1st day (Tim Malark & Caprico)

[Maggie]

Weather: Cold with few snow flakes falling.

Indoor/outdoor: Indoor

Limit: You have two days to complete your post, if you do not make the limit you will be disqualified from the event.

Course: Dressage Test

Tips: You may add in flying lead changes pirrowets and so forth to earn judges attention. Make post longer than 150 words.

[ThePhantomStallion]

The air was cold, dry, cutting. You would tense at the sound of gusting in the trees, knowing you were about to be hit by a wintery blast, and snow swirled in intricate patterns from the overcast skies. Tim shook, as usual, mouth pursed and scowling slightly. But he was incredibly calm beneath his pale skin, and he sat erect and his breathing was slow and even. Capricio was alert and curious, but benefited from the excellent demeanor of his rider. He stood square and in frame at the gate, foaming slightly around the double bit in his mouth.

Tim drew breath quietly, readjusted himself, and asked for Capricio to walk, and he responded quickly, placing his steps silently and in perfect time. His head nodded to an invisible beat. Tim's slate gray eyes shot from side to side, waiting for that ideal moment when the thoroughbred's feet would align with B and E exactly. He closed his fingers and ever so slightly pressured the curb rein, and Capricio slowed to a halt, squaring himself by training. Tim swept his hat from his head, nodding to each judge. Readjusting it on his head, you could slightly see his shake.

He took the reins back into each hand, and Capricio turned his ears back, keen to listen for a command. Tim gently pushed his heel into the bay gelding's side, taking a feel on the right rein, and using an indirect rein. Capricio bended his slender body and pranced across the diagonal, his neck an elegant curve. He reached the end and appropriated his bend to the angle of the curve, following through with a flexible haunch. Tim ever so slightly tightened on the rein again, and Capricio pricked his ears, knowing a change in gait was coming.

With the slightest pressure from Tim's spur, he melted into a brisk trot, his flashy high knee action accented. Tim simply was along for the ride, in essence, it seemed as though he were a mere extension of the gelding's back. As they went down the diagonal, Capricio began to strike out even more, his knees nigh up to his chin. As they rounded the corner his gait gathered a bit, keeping a nice, round frame.

At A, Tim tightened his pinkie a bit so the curb felt pressure, and the suspended trot flowed into an elegant, aristocratic walk. The thoroughbred had long, swinging strides that covered ground and lots of energy and impulsion behind each step. Sweat broke out on the geld's neck, and his mouth dripped white, sticky foam from both sides. He was still alert and focused, though the snow now fell heavily outside.

Tim, however, was freezing cold. He almost seized under his thin shirt and coat, his already pale skin was nearly an ivory color now, his shagged brown hair laying around his aristocratic face. His deep overcast eyes were rather dark, flat, and focused. Practiced hands and control made his limbs relax, and he guided the bay boy into his flouncing trot, cutting across to M and sloping gently to fall alongside the rail again.

Then came the important part, where control was crucial; the canter. He tightened his hold on the reins and pressed the blunt spurs into the ribs of the horse, his gait gliding from a flowing trot to a rocking-horse canter. His balance was well back, his frame collected. The thoroughbred leaned hard against the pressure on his mouth, fighting to break loose and run. Tim took on a look a quiet scolding on his face, but didn't move a muscle in his body. He just gelled with the even tempo of the canter.

When it was time for the pirouette, instead of his usual nervousness, Tim experienced elation. He was brimming with pride for his horse, which he had so meticulously trained, and was dying to show the judges. He gathered the horse's forward movement and channeled it into a sideways motion, using his heels to figure his body into a bend. The horse crossed his legs as his front end traveled sideways, suspended in forward motion. When they were to go straight again, the same 1, 2, 3, was kept, except the forward impulsion was again put to use.

At C the pair floated into the trot, swinging down the center line in the same flamboyant trot they started with. the slightest touch brought Capricio back to an elegant swagger, then to a square halt, neck arched in perfect style. Tim's hands were stiff from having to hold the frisky thoroughbred back, but it was worth it. He swept his hat off and nodded again to the judges.

Success.

Tim gave his young geld a hearty slap on the neck, releasing the reins and rubbing his short black mane once they left the ring. The feeling was like nothing else. Like attending your kid's graduation from Harvard. Like petting a happy puppy. He smiled broadly, forgetting the cold and celebrating the effort with his boy Captain, who likewise, pricked his ears, eyes shining, celebrated a tandem self-victory.