He Moves Like a Dancer [Cass]

Today was presenting itself to be wonderful. Warm, but not too warm; clear skies, with an occasional drifter; and most importantly, Ira planned to start breaking in her colt. She had been breaking for a few years now and she almost enjoyed the new battle scars each horse left her with. Of course, those scars rarely lasted long enough to see the new year but they were interesting while they lasted. This year Ira had a strong colt to deal with; while she boasted about her 'battle scars', rarely more than bruises, a fear was born inside of her that this stud could truly hurt her. But was that likely? Probably not.

Ira walked to the corral her colt was waiting for her in and a grin flashed across her face. For her nothing could quite compare to the joy of getting on a fresh, even green, horse. "Hey there, pretty boy," Ira cooed to the stud. Indeed he was pretty, with his sorrel coat that let him sparkle in the sun but with his beauty came a sense of strength. Under his deceiving peaceful coat his muscles twitched in anticipation and a spark flared in his eye.

Thrown across the corral gate was a makeshift bridle she had constructed. Truly it was just a long rope which she tied into knots. She made a long section of it connect to the headpiece on each side, this would serve as her reins. First step, check the knots. Ira's knots never came undone, but that wouldn't stop her from checking them. Imagine being atop a horse, never ridden before, and having your only control break. Not so fun now, is it?

Once sure the knots were fitted, Ira entered the corral with the colt. Ira smiled at the curious look on his face as she approached him with the halter. Of course he had already been trained to allow a halter on his head so he calmly allowed her to place it over his head. She led him over to the corral's fence and maneuvered him until he was standing parallel to the fence. Slowly, she put her weight on the bottom rail, testing its ability to hold her weight. When it held strong she hoisted her other leg up to the rail and stared at the horse before her.

Deep, slow breaths. This was the most nerve wracking part of the process, except being dumped. As Ira lifted her right leg and set it on the colt she watched him carefully. She was waiting for the horse to take off, do something. Instead, he twisted his neck around and looked at Ira expectantly. That has to be a good sign... Right? Ira breathed out a sigh as she pushed her weight away from the fence and was finally sitting upon the colts back.

He didn't take a step forward but Ira could feel his muscles twitching under her. She clicked to him and laid her leg on his left side. He still didn't move. Apparently the colt didn't much like Ira's leg because when she applied pressure again his head twisted around and tried to sink his teeth into her calf. I don't think so, Ira's mouth set and she kicked him in the side. In response, he stepped to the right quickly and reached back to grab her calf again. Ira jerked his head away from her leg and kicked him forward with both legs.

She couldn't have been on him for more than two minutes when he'd had enough. The muscles in Ira's legs clamped down trying to prepare herself for what the colt was about to throw at her. One, two, three bucks. Ira stayed on but the colt wasn't done with her yet. He was flying straight for the corral fence, bucking the whole way down. Nearly a foot before he could bust through the fence, the threw his head to the ground and hit the skids.

Obscenities left Ira's mouth as she flew over the colts head and out of the corral. Instinctively she put her hands out in front of her to keep the impact from hitting her face. If she was going to break something it was going to be her hand, not her face. Turned out to be a good choice too. Her hands slammed into the ground inches in front of her face and felt at least one of her fingers give under the pressure.

Maybe the top of her body stopped moving when it hit the ground, maybe it didn't. All Ira knew was that she ended up a good six feet from the corral with a mouthful of dirt, possibly a broken finger or two, and a nice cut on her arm. Where did that come from? Ira wondered as she tried to sit up. Her head throbbed a bit and Ira spit out the dirt that found its way into her mouth. She would be fine, just needed a minute to collect herself. A good throw like that hadn't rocked her in a year or so.