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Read Only. Dated 21 February. Grace is training the one of horses she bought here. WC: 1274



★ ★ ★



In the world, there are leaders, and there are followers. The controllers and the controlled; the predators and their prey. Grace, for all of her belief in personal freedom and liberty, did not believe in absolute equality. Each pack had an alpha, and she respected the hierarchy. Similarly, there was an interspecies hierarchy - as a predator, there were creatures who were her prey, who were food. And, in a less extreme way, there were animals to whom she was superior. Horses were among these; while valuable and even personable, they possessed not the mind that a predator did. They simply couldn't.

That was not to disrespect them, of course - Grace would never dream of that. It was a matter of knowing one's place. Grace knew her place as a subordinate to her pack superiors, and similarly, she knew her place as a superior to her horses. They needed her to be sure of her place, so that they could be sure that they could trust her and follow her commands. They needed her strength, her self-assuredness, and her trust, not just in them, but in herself. If she didn't trust herself, why should they? Horses were smarter than wolves often gave them credit for. They were just smart in a subtle, instictive, knowing way. Layla knew things, Grace was sure of it. She just couldn't be sure exactly what, because they couldn't communicate as Grace could with other wolves. The same was true of Taj, although he was less subordinate to her than Layla, if only because he possessed greater inherent intellect. Layla understood instincts and directions; Taj understood ideas and concepts.

Layla had been a trick to train. A gentler beast, Grace had never found, but willful and impertinent, as well! Layla was not known for violent displays; rather, she was subtle and commanding. She had been the second-up in her harem when Grace had taken her, and she may have become the queen of the whole lot, after the older mare leading them had passed. She was strong and assured, and she took directions well, but it was clear that she had a mind of her own. She had, more than once, balked at a command Grace had given, and come to find out, she had noticed something that Grace had not - danger from a nearby predator, a slick rock by the shore, or a tumble of stones that would cause her to lose her footing and fall, injuring not only herself, but her mistress as well. The blonde girl was grateful for her horse; a better mount - and companion, too - she could not have asked for. She had meant to get a stallion, when she had set out to train a horse, but Layla had been most compelling. Now, with the arrival.. well, the purchase, really.. of new horses, it was time to see what the brown and white stallion, the only male of the group, could do. If he trained well, and he could play nicely with Layla and Taj, she might just have herself a second mount.

She rose before dawn to the soft caws of Taj's first alarm. Sometimes this didn't rouse her, but this morning, she was ready to get started. She dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved brown blouse with small teal beads and pale tan embroidery, and ran a comb through her mane. She tied it back with a leather thong at the base of her neck, keeping it away from her face, but keeping warmth to her. It was still winter, and chilly outside, even when not snowing. She shrugged on her tan suede jacket, lined with wool to keep her small frame warmer, and zipped it part of the way up. It would be open with half an hour, and off in twice as much time, but the first step outside was always the coldest, and it was too early to be trying to tough it out in the cold. She made her way to the stable, where she fed her horses. While she waited, she mucked their stalls and chit-chatted with Taj. "You think that girl was telling the truth, Taj? You think they're trained the way she said?" The crow tilted his head and gave a loud caw that sounded much like she might have cried, "Ha!" She laughed. "No, probably not. But we'll see."

She went to the stall wherein the stallion had finished eating, and opened the door. He came to her easily, and sniffed her hand, refreshing his memory of her. She smiled and stroked his nose briefly, then tried a halter on him. He was cooperative and friendly, and she rewarded him with a sugar clump. She then tried a saddle blanket, followed by a saddle. He put up no fuss, and she smiled. "By the Gods, Taj, she was telling the truth! About him, anyway." She looked at the stallion, brown with white, a pinto. He was an Arabian mix, but with none of the fine-boned build. She figured that it must be the Mustang in him. "He'll need a name..." she thought aloud, an open-ended statement that needed no response just yet. It would come to her eventually. She swapped the halter for a bitless bridle of her own design, which he accepted first with confusion, then seeming pleasure. It was a bridle, yes, but there was no uncomfortable metal bit. She was pleased with his acceptance, and led him outside. She started first with leading him around. He was slightly stubborn to begin with, but quickly responsive, and she rewarded him handsomely for his cooperation. It never hurt to compliment a horse.

After a while, he seemed bored, so she decided to see if she would let her mount him. The first try, he shook her off, snorting with disdain. She stood in front of him and gave him a stern look, and held a rope with balls of sugar and oats on it in front of his face. He tried for it; she was too fast for him. She gave the rope to Taj, and instructed him to keep it away from the horse, but within visual range, while she mounted. He complied, and this time, the stallion was more than happy to oblige. Taj flew along, leading the horse, and Grace used physical and verbal cues to match Taj's direction. This, she thought, would teach him to obey the cues as if the treat were still there. They did this for quite some time, with Grace occasionally instructing Taj to allow the horse to eat a ball of oats, and by the time the oats were gone, he responded to her easily. She was pleased with her training tactics, and her ability to include her feathered friend had made the exercises less boring for him, too. Usually, he left during horse training; now, even with his work finished, he stayed and watched for a while.

After they finished for the day, Grace rubbed the stallion down well, complimenting him in quiet, gentle tones. He clearly enjoyed the care, and she stayed with him for a little while after he was cared for, sitting up on the edge of the stall and playing the ney that Taj had retrieved for her. When she finished, she met her new horse's eye and smiled. "Your name should be Faris, I do think. It means that you are a brave warrior, in my mother's native tongue. Do you like it?" He neighed in agreement, as if he knew that, because she granted him a name, he had now become her friend.


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