And so the search is on (Amy [fleeing filly rp])

[.~.T.e.a.k.~.]

It was early when he parked the truck in the lot and cut the engine. He hadn’t a clue if he was the first student here or not, or even if the stables were opened to anyone but staff this early in the morn, as his watch read that it had just hit 6:30 AM… but his excitement and enthusiasm at the long stretch of day remaining, and the grin on his face and bounce in his walk… well, anyone who took a glance at him could see that he was beyond excited over something.

And he was. He was wired, keyed… The young man was dressed to ride today, to ride long and hard. Instead of his usual, more casual dress, he wore clothes that made it clear that he was planning on being gone for more than a few hours. He wore wrangler jeans, almost brand-new with a belt woven through the loops, and worn but well-kept brown chaps. His cowboy boots were, as usual, used-but-clean and his dark grey and black flannel shirt was long sleeved to protect his arms. The only things different about his clothes this time were the well-taken-care-of spurs that clinked and jangled as he walked and the worn, brown cowboy hat that was atop his head instead of his sunglasses. Normally, the hat was left at home, but on this occasion he’d decided to wear it to protect his face from sunburn. His sunshades had been left in the dash of the truck. As he walked briskly towards the stables, he sand softly under his breath the lyrics to random country songs, sometimes mixing lyrics from many different songs up and making his own version of the music.

Mikey had heard that a young horse was out on the land, and he’d been planning this day since he’d learned about the horse. A yearling Paint filly… he didn’t know who else was looking for the youngling, nor did he really want to know. He knew that he probably wouldn’t find the horse, but he was going to do his best. He’d given his own Paint stallion a rest over the past few days and knew that Cowboy was just as eager as he was to get out and ride. The Paint was the type of horse who absolutely hated having nothing to do… so he’d be more than eager to go out today, and riding through the brush and woods… there was nothing the big stallion enjoyed more.

The bay Paint heard him coming… by the time Mikey got to the stall, Cowboy was poking his large head over the top of the half-door, waiting impatiently. His thick foreleg banged against the door as he waited for his owner to grab the dark blue halter and matching lead. The stallion literally thrust his head into the halter for Mikey, ears flicking back and forth eagerly. Cowboy knew something was going on… his owner never wore spurs unless something important was up, and the sound of the metal jangling was making the horse even more excited and ready to go.

The stallion pranced out of the stall, dancing in circles around Mikey as the young man closed and relatched the half-door. Easy boy, take it easy… The boys voice was soft and commanding, though a hint of pleasure at the big horses actions could be heard. Oh yes, Cowboy was ready to go. Easy. He said one more time before turning and leading the horse towards the cross-ties and clipping them to the sides of the halter. Calm down, no use in getting all excited before we even get out. With those final words, he ran a hand down the horses side before walking around the stallion and into the tack room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forty minutes after he’d entered the tack room, Mikey was tightening the saddle up on Cowboy. The stallion was still wired, and if anything, he was even more eager to get out now. He’d had a very long, thorough brushing and his mane and tail were tangle-free, his coat shiny and slick. He chewed at the snaffle bit and stamped a hoof on the ground, shifting in annoyance at how long his owner was taking. Alright, alright… I’m ready if you are. Mikey said through a smile as he unclipped the cross-ties and grabbed the yearling halter and extra lead from where he’d dropped it earlier… just in case.

He led the big stallion away from the cross ties and debated momentarily about which way to go before finally turning Cowboy towards the wooded trails. Mikey placed himself in Cowboy’s mind and knew that if the stallion was loose, and didn’t know to go back to the barn, he’d head for the woods first before the open areas, therefore… the woods it was. The half blind teen held the prancing stallion still and swung lightly up into the saddle. He tied the halter and lead to the saddlehorn and glanced back to make sure the heavy-duty saddle/cantle bags were zipped shut before clicking to the horse, quickly urging Cowboy into a lope, then a run. They hit the trail at a run and Mikey looped the tied reins over the saddlehorn, letting the stallion run as he pleased for a while.

Finally slowing back down from their ‘wild’ run through the trail, Mikey turned the stallion off the trail and into the woods, sure that they were pretty far from the stables. They’d work their way back as the day progressed, he decided and stayed silent, thinking about the lost filly as Cowboy paused momentarily before continuing on slowly. The duo angled through the woods carefully, both horse and rider keeping an eye out for holes, covered ditches, and/or tree limbs. Mikey doing so because he wanted nothing to happen to the stallion, and the stallion doing it to protect his master, owner, and friend.

An hour ticked by, then another… the stallion’s neck was slick with sweat as the horse and rider duo pushed on, neither wanting or needing a break. Mikey had seen only one indication of the filly and nothing more… and he’d stopped quite often to get off the Paint and walk around, looking closer to ground. Each tree was studied, looking for any sign of the young equine… a few tail or mane hairs pulled out by rubbing, a hoofprint… anything. So far the only things that he’d found had been a small, single hoofprint in the mud and some slide marks that indicated that a horse had come running through the area and had slipped and slid a little (though for all Mikey knew, it could have been any horse)… nothing more, but Mikey wasn’t discouraged. He was enjoying himself too much to be discouraged, and looking at Cowboy, it was evident that the stallion was enjoying himself as well.

Mikey sighed as he walked back towards his horse after searching the small clearing in which they had stopped in. His watch now read close to noon. He fished around in the saddlebags and came out with a pair of hobbles, a canned Pepsi, and two apples in his hands. Come on bud, let’s take a break. There’s some water over there, it’s running, and should be good and cold… we’ve still got a few hours out here. He spoke just to hear something cut through the still, silent air, though Cowboy’s ears pricked upon catching the tone of his owners voice (and the two apples that Mikey held).

The stallion nickered, edging forwards, as he knew that one of the apples was for him. Mikey laughed and quickly took the bridle off the animal before offering the big green fruit out and scratching Cowboy on the forehead after the horse had grabbed the treat up. While the horse crunched on the treat, the young man stripped the saddle and hobbled the equine. Then Mikey moved across the clearing to sit down atop a fallen tree. He popped the lid on the soda and tilted it back, enjoying the refreshing taste of the carbonated drink. Cowboy moved across the clearing, hopping in his hobbles like he was trained, and dipped his muzzle into the stream, taking a long drink of the cold, clear water.

[<Amy>]

Fleeing Sweetheart

The brooding storm clouds overhead would be no good for any horse, always making them edgy or at least long for good shelter and fresh feed. The elusive Fleeing Sweetheart, was not only a horse but also a young horse, yearling to be precise. Her light chestnut and white form shivered as she flicked flies off her sides, snorting and looking around her at the wooded area she'd been running wild in. She didn't know where the humans had gone, just that she was glad they had stopped trying to put her in the small box with the stiff traveling boots that she had been prompt in kicking off once achieving freedom. Snorting, Sweetheart shook her neck before starting to graze.

She wasn't exactly full height yet but was nearing it, almost sixteen hands when she was grown but right now was roughly fifteen point two. She showed promise and her owners had always prided her since she'd been suckling at her mother's side. Needless to say Sweetheart liked attention. She flourished with it but the box had made her scared and the humans hadn't made her unscared. They had just pushed and pulled and now she was all alone with no one to tell her that she was pretty or sweet as sugar. It wasn't any fun.

Abandoning her graze, the mare started off in no particular direction until an angry clap of thunder threw her into a wild fright. Squealing in fear, Fleeing Sweetheart did what she did best and fled. The mare rocketed through the undergrowth, trampling brambles and bracken, flattening low growing bushes and weaving through the trees like a mad beast. The mare galloped out of the trees, splashing across a narrow creek, brown eyes rolling so her eyes were rimmed with white. Before she could break into a fully fledge hysteria, Sweetheart broke out of the woods into a clearing. She squealed and swerved to avoid colliding with a big brown and white horse and saw a human.

Her gallop was brought to a halt as the filly trotted in a flighty circle, eyes rolling, tossing her head and watching both human and adult horse. She snorted and half reared, nickering and shying sharply as thunder growled overhead. She was scared, so scared. Sweetheart looked at the human, shying again. What if he tried to put her in a box? Sweetheart whinnied helplessly, pacing in a frightened circle, flicking her tail and breathing heavily.