Fall fest show entry

7am and the sun had barely begun to peek over the horizon. It was dark, cold and rather quiet for what it was; the second day of a multi day show, but not many were awake just yet. 
Being given an early time slot bothered neither horse nor rider. Both were early birds and perfectly happy with cold mornings. 
The horses rider, Azura, was walking about with purpose- and in a thin turtleneck whichs arms had been cut off. She was carrying Scorchs tack, alongside a jacket shed wear during their run. A dress code was a dress code. She was humming a happy tune, finding herself looking forward to their round. 
Her stallion Scorch was outside in a paddock, eating away at a haynet. His black coat and silver mane were in pristine condition, shining like quality silk. He had remained nice and clean despite spending the night outside. 
Being stalled for longer periods of time did something to him. Some hours in his eyes would grow dim, eventually, empty and unseeing.
Azura remembered that look much to well. The memory of it occasionally returned.
Thankfull though, it was long past. Scorch was having a good morning. He might have looked stoic or aloof to some, but Azura knew him well enough to tell. She also knew hed love to run some barrels. A 18 hand tall baroque-ish horse wasnt neccessarily what one would picture as the perfect barrel horse, but Azura would have begged to differ. Scorch was incredibly agile and quick on his feet. Powerful too. And yet, a smooth and steady ride. His breeds beautiful gaits shone trough everytime. For Azura it was quite the elated feeling to whip around barrels with him, unlike any other western horse shed ridden before. Speed, strenght and the innate free flowing, confident moves of the Loshenka.