A new messager

A new messager

The morning was brisk and cold, they had been on the road for a long time. Both him and Lace. Their destination was his home as well, he didn't grow up here but none of them did. Everything about the place had been unfamiliar to all of those who lived there. By now it was home. He had brown hair that he wipped away with a swipe of his hand, soft blue eyes and brown leather armour to accompany it. Silently the two walked along as he patted her neck softly. The mare had been skittish at first. Lace is quite striking, her coat almost grey with an unmistakable chimera band of white with spots across her neck. She wasn't quick yet, but that was something they might change with hard work. They had started off days ago with their trek and the mare had been slightly unused to the new tasks and training, skittish of new objects. They had slowly been working on her stamina, taking it slow as they trekked along. Every meter of the path had been one where their bond slowly came to trust.

Aveshyr, the land of their ancestors, the land lost to time. They were traveling to one of the training outposts. The place many of the horses went to for training or shows, as such the fate of this Losenckas.

Luka could feel the tiredness in his bones as he finally came to where he could hitch Lace by the stables. He mentally made a note of the 3 horses nearby. A young foal further down the stables and 2 mares in the pasture. With a soft sigh he lifted his right leg over Lace’s rump while turning, his hands and arms supporting himself on the saddle. His weight glided off Lace as he dismounted before hitting the ground with a soft thud. A thud he would have sworn echoed in his bones. As if called, two stableboys came jogging, their youthful grins were at full display. A contest of who could offer their services first. One of the boys, a blond haired teen, reaches the new arrivals first. Formally halting at an appropriate distance and bowing. “Welcome Sir! May I take your steed?” He asks respectfully. His companion appears rather sulky that he lost the race, already having turned to return to mucking and other mundane tasks. Shaking his head to the teen, Luka absentmindedly answered: “No, I’ll do it myself. I am certain you have other tasks already.” The teen stopped momentarily at the declination attempting to hide the sulking expression before it appeared. “Of course, Sir. I’ll leave you to it.” the teen said respectfully, turning to join his friend as they ventured towards the nearby pasture where the two other mares were grazing.

Lace herself in the meantime let out a calm neigh as she greeted the two mares. Luka grabbed Lace’s reins, in order to keep her on track. Maise, a grey mare with a blue roan coat was standing in the paddock. Pandora, a dark coated mare with colourful butterfly patterns was snug beside her. For a moment, Luka stood there as Lace greeted the two Nordanner mares remaining idle. Luka ended up giving a ever so slight tug on the reins trying to get the mare's attention.

“Come on girl, let's get you some water and get that saddle off. I’m sure you will feel a great deal better.” Luka stated, perhaps mainly to himself or perhaps by some miracle, Lace understood his words. In a couple quick steps she bypassed him, the mare panted a slight bit extra as if to get a point across. A short chuckle escaped Luka, hurrying his own steps until he reached a post where he could hitch her.

Luka looped Lace’s reins over the hitching post and slid his hand beneath the girth, fingers working the buckle until the leather eased with a soft creak. Lace blew out a warm breath as the pressure loosened. He lifted the saddle, the blanket peeling away with a faint puff of wind. Setting the tack on the rail, he ran a rough cloth along her withers and down her shoulder, rubbing out the damp. “There we are,” he murmured, and Lace lowered her head. She had one ear tilted toward him as she waited patiently.

In the meantime, the two stableboys ventured into the paddock and placed halters on the two mares before guiding them both out, chatting eagerly with each other while the two mares snorted, seemingly dissatisfied with the lack of attention given by the teens. Yet their complaints seemed to fade with the wind as they were hitched next to the newly arrived mare. As the trio eagerly neighed towards each other in greeting, trying to sniff each other with their limited reach before the trio settled with a couple snorts to sort out their initial greetings.

Completely oblivious to the new arrival, a small foal put her nose in a metal bucket, tipping it onto the rim so it spun and rattled across the floorboards. Luka glanced up only long enough from the sound to note the bright wash of colour stars freckled through violet into green that marked the young foal Dally. Keeping him wondering as to why she was untied, he set his hands back to Lace’s girth and kept working. The bucket clinked again, the foal testing the noise with a light tap of a hoof, ears quick and curious. Dally skipped a step and let the handle ring, tipping it over and causing it to roll, pleased with the mischief. When the bucket rolled to a stop against the wall, the young foal stood over it as if guarding a prize.

Throughout the ruckus Lace breathed out at the noise, calm and unbothered by the noise familiar to Luka’s own bucket during the trip. Luka slipped the strap of the bridle over Lace’s head and let it rest against her neck while he loosened the girth. The mare blew out a warm breath as the pressure eased. With a careful lift he drew the saddle free and set it on the low rail, the saddle blanket following with a faint puff of steam from her back. “There we are,” he murmured, running his palm along the damp line of her withers and shoulder, rubbing out the sweat with a rough cloth. Lace moved a hind hoof and lowered her head, eyes half closed.

Once again the blond teen came to try his luck as he approached Lace. “May I, Sir?” the teen asked, already reaching for the brush at the fence. Luka gave a short, silent nod, and the teen called over his friend. Together they finished hitching Maise and Pandora and tied them by the fences. The teen began to brush in even circles over Maise’s grey blue-roan shoulder, lifting dust and old hair, then the stiff brush followed in long, confident strokes that sent a faint cloud drifting across the aisle. Maise flicked an ear and leaned into it, the blue roan speckles brightening as the dirt came away. Pandora, restless as a painted butterfly shadow, stamped once and then settled under the second teen’s hand. The teens kept up an easy chatter while they worked, their youth showing. After a while of brushing, Luka went to fetch a bucket of water to fill the trough with fresh, cold water. Lace turned her head at the sound of the water slopping.

As Luka emptied the bucket into the trough, Lace didn't need convincing, swiftly dipping her muzzle to drink while Luka counted the swallows, and eased her bridle off while she paused for breath. “Slowly,” he told her, though she hardly needed telling, and then he brought a second bucket for the others. Maise, taking the opportunity offered, drank with prim, tidy sips. Pandora plunged her muzzle deep and came up dripping, snorting at the cold on her tongue.

Dally the young foal down the hall reached for her bucket once more, small teeth finding the handle, and with a pleased little toss the foal set off at a jaunty trot along the grounds, the metal swinging back and forth so that each step sent a bright clink ahead of the next. One palm still steady on Lace’s neck, Luka smoothed the damp along her shoulder. The arc of the bucket went a touch wider on the turn, the handle slid in the foal’s mouth, and the bucket struck the nearest post with a hard, rolling clang that jumped through the timbers and came back again from the roof.

Lace lifted an ear and breathed out, calm as ever, seeking out Luka for certainty, but the young foal Dally startled in a tight spring of legs moving swiftly flew forward. Then the foal made straight for Pandora and tried at once to duck under her frame as if the wide, dark mare might hide all the world. Pandora threw her head and stamped once, shifting to keep her feet. Maise and the new arrival Lace only flicked their ears and watched as dust settled.

The bucket rolled in a wobble and came to rest against the wall, the handle ticking twice before it stilled, and Dally, pressed close to Pandora’s forelegs with sides quivering, peered out with one bright eye and blew a sharp, uncertain breath before she clacked her teeth to the three mares. Luka, shaking his head, slowly drew the cloth down Lace’s shoulder in one last even stroke, then looked over to the boys with the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “You boys have your hands full, I thought being a messenger was tiring.”

Both of the boys glowed a bright red before hurrying to catch up with the foal and put her fleeting chaos back into its place. Luka all the while patted Lace’s neck mentioning. “There we go, who knows. You might yet be cut out for this little lady.”