PHASE 2 - Still Learning

It had been raining all morning, the sky dark and heavy, the ground soaked through. The Loshenka Madeleine had rescued seemed restless in his stable, pacing and shifting with unease. Wanting to give him something to focus on, she decided to bring him into the indoor arena for a light session. Nothing intense, just a chance to stretch his legs and let him get used to the soft sound of rain tapping on the roof.

Everything felt calm. He was curious, alert. She hand-walked him first, letting him sniff the corners of the arena and explore at his own pace. He seemed eager to please, so Madeleine made the decision to mount. No tack, no pressure, just quiet steps and quiet trust.

His ears flicked back and forth, listening to her cues. They walked for a while and all was going well. She could feel the energy beneath her. He was alive, present, but not explosive.

Until he was.

In an instant, the horse bucked hard. Madeleine hit the ground before she could even process what had happened. A second buck sprayed sand into the air. She instinctively shielded her face as it rained down over her. The horse bolted to the far end of the arena, legs shaking, eyes wide with panic.

Madeleine lay there, stunned, winded, heart pounding. She took a moment before sitting up and calling to him gently, not daring to move too quickly. That’s when she spotted something, just barely visible in the sand.

A black, stick-like object.

A lunge whip.

Someone must have failed to tidy up after a lunging session. Madeleine hadn’t seen it. But he had.

She stood and picked it up. The moment it lifted from the sand, the horse began to stress, ears pinned, jig-jogging on the spot.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize it was there. It’s okay. I’m putting it away.”

She left the arena to return the whip to the equipment shed, giving him time to calm down. When she returned, he was standing at the door, waiting.

She reached up and stroked his neck, reassuring him, and maybe herself too. He leaned into her shoulder like he was saying sorry… or simply asking if she was still there.

She was.

He wasn’t bad. He was scared. And this was a learning curve for them both.

Back in the stable, she washed him down and brushed the sweat and sand from his coat. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re not being punished.”

Then she took out her phone and typed a quick message in the yard group chat:

"Friendly reminder to please put equipment back properly, especially after lunge sessions."