Flashback First Ride

[Aran Windblown]

45 Spring, 501AV

Aran tilted his face to the wind, praying to Zulrav, father of the Striders, that Anyalvis would cooperate for once. Not that the Strider didn’t cooperate—eventually—but it would be nice to not have to fight him to get something as simple as getting the yvas on done. Gods knew that Aran loved his Strider, and he knew Anyalvis loved him, but the Strider loved to constantly test his patience.

“All right, boy,” Aran said, approaching Anyalvis. The Strider and Drykas were in a pen, which was unusual—but Anyalvis had a more difficult time jumping over these poles than running away from Aran when he was feeling extra ornery. “C’mon, you’ve got to get used to this. I know you’re only two, but within the next few weeks, we’re going to have to start working on me actually riding you, and it will be a lot easier if you have already learned to put up with the yvas. I’m not a master at riding yet, you know.”

The claybank colt tossed his head and whickered, almost like he was making fun of Aran. The Drykas rolled his eyes. “Right, right, make fun of the thirteen-year-old,” he muttered. Aran picked the yvas up off of one of the rails, holding it up for Anyalvis’s inspection. “Our goal for today,” he said firmly, “is to get this on and off of you twice without fuss. We’re not leaving this pen until that happens.” While the Striders didn’t really understand Pavi, they were certainly more intelligent than most horses Aran had heard of, and it never hurt to state one’s goal allowed when working with horses—especially snarky Striders.

Anyalvis snorted, unimpressed. Aran raised one eyebrow, and approached the colt confidently, exuding the aura of a leader. That was the way horses—even Striders—worked. If he didn’t give off the air of a leader, then he would have a much harder time convincing Anyalvis to work with him. Without mutual respect, neither Drykas nor Strider would get very far. “All right,boy, easy does it,” he said as he lifted the yvas, one eye on the harness to make sure that nothing got tangled or misplaced, and one on Anyalvis’s ears, watching the way they flicked back and forth, watching for a sign that Anyalvis was going to pull one of his stunts.

The Strider didn’t disappoint. He tried several tricks he’d pulled before—ducking out from under the yvas, lunging forward, and rearing back—as well as some new ones, such as spinning away from the yvas. Aran barely managed to keep himself calm as he approached Anyalvis yet again. ”I can do this all day, buddy,” he said, careful to keep his voice calm. ”I can and will out-stubborn you.”

[Aran Windblown]

Anyalvis just snorted and pranced around the pen, his tail flagging. Aran rolled his eyes. ”Yes, yes, we all know you’re a very handsome fella,” he said impatiently. ”Just think, if you’d let me ride you, we could show off even more, and then all of the mares would be dying to have your foals.”

It took another chime, but finally Aran managed to get the yvas on Anyalvis’s back and secured. The colt ran around the pen once or twice, threw in a couple of bucks, and finally trotted over to Aran, exuding a petulant air. Aran laughed. ”It’s necessary and you know it,” he chortled, reaching up to scratch under the colt’s forelock. Anyalvis nodded his head up and down, encouraging Aran to scratch harder; Aran complied. After a moment, he moved around to the Strider’s side, fiddling with the yvas, shushing the colt when he made to shy away when Aran reached for the breast collar. After several moments of adjustment, Aran removed the yvas and returned it to its former place on the railing. “All right, now we have to do it again—think you can behave yourself this time?” He spent a moment smoothing out Anyalvis’s hair where the yvas had rubbed before picking up the harness once more. This time, it only took approximately thirty-seven chimes before Anyalvis stood still long enough for Aran to secure the yvas.

“Good boy,” Aran praised, rubbing and petting the colt. “Such a good boy; see, it’s not that bad.” Anyalvis just snorted.

[Aran Windblown]

66 Spring, 501AV

Aran continued working with Anyalvis for the next several weeks; a chime or two—sometimes three or four—every day. Eventually, Anyalvis accepted the yvas easily, though he still didn’t seem to be fond of it. Aran had talked to some of the older Drykas in his Pavilion, and in some of the others that belonged to the Amethyst Clan, and he found that it was not uncommon for Striders that had never been ridden, particularly colts that bonded with young boys, to be fractious and to constantly test their riders and handlers. They all assured Aran that the colt would settle down after his first ride.

Which was today.

Aran was more nervous now than he had been when Anyalvis first showed up—go figure, the colt had decided stalking down Aran’s tent in the middle of the night, huffing and snorting like some sort of predator was a good way to introduce himself to his rider—but he forced it down. Nervousness never did a rider any favors. Aran had often ridden his father’s Strider, so he knew the basics, and could manage to keep his seat fairly well already; Anyalvis, however, was much more energetic and playful than Kiran.

Anyalvis knew that something was up; he stood still while Aran settled the yvas over his withers(and boy, had it taken them a while to where Anyalvis would stand without constantly shifting around), though his tail swished and his ears flicked back and forth curiously. He turned to snuffle Aran’s shoulder, blowing out a hot breath.

”You’re okay,” Aran promised, scratching the colt’s neck. ”It’s me that’s nervous, though I know I shouldn’t be,” he confided, scratching at the soft spot behind Anylavis’s ear that made the colt stretch his neck out, eyes half-lidded and upper lip twitching in ecstasy. After double-checking one last time that the girth, pad, and breast collar were completely secure, but not too tight, he patted Anyalvis’s neck, leading the colt over to a small hillock; while Aran was rapidly approaching the six-foot mark, he wasn’t quite tall enough to vault onto Anyalvis, nor did he trust the colt to not try to bolt, just for the hell of it, on the first try. He wanted their first ride to be a pleasant experience.

”Okay,” Aran said mostly to himself. ”Okay. Stand, Anyalvis.” Placing one hand upon the top of the yvas and the other on top of Ayalvis’s back, Aran jumped in place once, twice, and then heaved himself onto Anyalvis’s back, swinging his right leg over smoothly and quickly settling into place behind the yvas. Anyalvis snorted and shied sideways at the motion, though it was more because this was the first time Aran had mounted Anyalvis than out of any sort of fear. Aran shushed the colt, rubbing his neck reassuringly. ”Easy, boy. You’re okay. We’re okay. I’m just on your back instead of standing next to you.” Aran grinned to himself as the reality of where he currently was sank in. ”I’m on your back; I’m riding you!”

[Aran Windblown]

Aran laughed again, and Anyalvis tossed his head, whickering. Aran gently nudged the Strider with his heels, ready to catch himself should Anyalvis take off-- but the colt didn't. For once, he happily followed Aran's lead, allowing the Drykas to direct him more through weight shifts and pressure from his knees than any other method. Once Aran was confident with walking, he tried trotting, gritting his teeth as he quickly tried to figure out the rhythm; certain parts of his anatomy would become very uncomfortable if he didn't. Anyalvis's stride was long and flowing, with a bit of a bounce to it, just enough to lift Aran off of his back slightly. Soon enough, however the Drykas had managed to conquer the rhythm, moving with Anyalvis's movement instead of trying to do everything on his own. He let the bouncing from Anyalvis's trot toss him up, and he used his thighs to keep his weight from sliding down; it was more a simple swinging of his hips than anything else. Once Aran had the trot, he hesitated; should he push his luck, try for a canter?

Glancing around, Aran saw that there was no one else around his area. He could still see the rest of the tents not too far away, but off to his side stretched the near-endless Sea of Grass. Now that he could ride his Strider...

Just a quick canter, and no gallop, Aran decided. He didn't want to stress Anyalvis's joints, in any case. The Strider was of good, hardy stock, but he was still only two and a half years old-- just old enough to be ridden, but not old enough, nor developed enough, to do any hard riding.

Aran slid one leg back so that if a line was drawn perpendicular to his left ankle, his right foot would be behind that line. Then, he squeezed lightly with both feet, clucking encouragingly to Anyalvis, who pricked his ears before lunging forward into the canter. Aran had been expecting this, and had already grabbed two handfuls of Anyalvis's mane to keep himself from sliding off of the colt's back.

Moving with the canter was much easier than moving with the trot; the rocking three-beat gait was soothing, covered a lot of ground, but was very smooth. Aran had only to lean slightly one way or the other for Anyalvis to get the hint and turn in that direction, and Aran laughed his praise to the gods for the wondrous breed of horse his people had been blessed with.

After only a few bells, however, Aran forced himself to coax Anyalvis back down to a trot, then a walk, and finally to a halt, where he slid down carefully, mindful of how long it had been since he was on a horse for that long; his legs felt weird, walking on the grass instead of clinging to a horse. Aran led Anyalvis back to the spot they'd started from, where Aran had left some brushes. After removing the equipment, Aran brushed Anyalvis, checking for any hotness or tenderness in the colt's limbs and joints; he didn't find any, and Anyalvis wasn't even breathing hard, which was a good sign. With a grin, Aran straightened, running a hand down the colt's neck.

"Can't wait to do that again."

[Taylani]

XP Award!

Alia Beaudouin:

XP Award:

• +1 horsemanship
• +2 riding
  

Lore:

• Anyalvis: Snarky Strider
  

Notes:The use of the underlining to delineate speech from action is unnecessary since “ “ do that. People often use color to do that, particularly if their character uses multiple language but with the underlining it got a little difficult when the speech and action was in the same paragraph. Just something to think on.

Bells = Hours In your second post you said it took 37 Bells to put the Yvas on again. I assume you meant Chimes = minutes. Ticks = Seconds 
If, in fact, you did mean that it took another day and half to get the horse back into a Yvas a note about it being another day or two later is needed to give the reader a sense of time.

Comments :

Short and sweet. Please feel free to pm me any concerns about your grade. Don’t forget to delete or edit your grade request,.

TAYLANI