I'm back from camp, and I'm sorry this took so long, but thanks for waiting. Similarly, thank you for continuing to read! :D
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- TAAF_
Song: R Shot Alive by Marco Beltrami & Buck Sanders
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"Dad!" I shouted, stumbling into the house, only a little blood still flowing fresh from my hands. Most of it had stopped.
I was fairly certain I'd left a trail of the crimson fluid on my sprint back.
"Yeah?" My father replied from the living room, I saw his head pivot.
"We-- we need to get Ophelia and Gingko into the b-barn." I wheezed, ready to collapse on the floor of my kitchen.
"What? What happened?"
"T-there's a bear out there." I gasped deeply, practically tripping over my own feet as I shakily picked up a cloth from the sink. "I climbed a tree to get away, it left after a while-- but that wasn't very far from here."
"The bear didn't do that to you--" Dad said warily, gesturing to the scratch-like marks on my hands.
"No, I tripped on the end of a barbed wire fence."
"Jeez--" Dad scoffed, taking hold of my wrist to examine my cuts.
As a surgeon, he definitely wasn't shy around wounds.
"I don't know why anyone would use barbed wire fencing out here."
"I don't either." I agreed, ignoring the sharp stinging in my palms. "Can you help me get the horses inside?"
"Yep." Dad said, turning away. "Rosie?!"
My fourteen-year-old sister came trotting out at our dad's call, her blonde hair up in a messy bun.
Rosie was already in her light blue pyjamas, shorts and a t-shirt, looking ready to go to bed.
"What's up?"
"Get your shoes on, we need to put Ophelia and Gingko in the barn."
"Why?"
"I ran into a bear on my run, don't want to take any chances." I explained, finally getting some of my wind back.
"Oh. How'd you--"
"Barbed wire." I huffed, deeming my hands okay enough to go get my horse. "I'm fine."
...
By the time the three of us got outside, the sun was down; the sky was stained with purple clouds.
I whistled to Ophelia, the dapple-grey horse grazing with Rosie's red horse Gingko, out in the lush field.
Ophelia was so placid, not a care in the world as she munched away next to Gingko, though she raised her head when I whistled two tones: one high, one low, the signal to come.
With that, her muscles under her smooth coat rippling, Ophelia picked up a languid canter across the grass, dew staining her legs. Ginkgo followed in suit, her hooves hitting the ground slower than Ophelia's had up to the fence.
As the younger horse, Ginkgo was more mischievous and less willing to follow instructions, much like her owner, Rosie.
On Ginkgo's reddish forehead, there was a white marking that looked a bit like a gingko leaf. At least, that's what Rosie said a couple years before when we got the horse.
Ophelia on the other hand, was a rescue horse.
When I first met her she was terrified of everything, and rightly so.
Dad and I rescued her from ridiculously abusive owners when she was still a yearling, four years before.
The family that owned her previously neglected her and starved her to the point of being able to count every single one of her ribs from forty feet away. When the did actually take her out for 'training' they whipped her so that it cut her skin, not the way a whip was supposed to be used with horses, and she still had faint scars around her dappled hind.
After she recovered from physical trauma, I spent solids months "bomb-proofing" her, making her unafraid of almost anything she could possibly encounter.
I finally managed to get Ophelia to a place where she'd let me on her back, and I think that's when I fully discovered what an amazing animal she was.
And man, she was fast.
For a fairly large horse, usually her breed of Irish Draught-Thoroughbred was used for jumping, she loved to run and was probably the fastest horse I'd ever ridden. After measuring her top speed with a speedometer, it was revealed she could gallop at fifty-one kilometres an hour with me on her back.
"I'll take O first." I murmured, gripping the smooth strap of her leather halter, striding out of the paddock once the iron gate creaked open.
Together, Ophelia's hooves clip-clopping against the gravel driveway, we meandered over to the wooden sliding-door of the barn that was already open. The barn that was once my grandfather's, was old and worn from wind and weather, but I loved it nonetheless.
All of a sudden, the moment my foot touched the concrete floor of the building, Ophelia stiffened like a board and halted.
I was thrown a little off balance, wobbling where I stood, before glancing over my shoulder into Ophelia's eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked, fully aware my horse couldn't speak back with words. "C'mere, let's go sweetheart."
Ophelia wouldn't budge, quite out of character for my horse, keeping her dark hooves planted.
I clicked my tongue against the back of my teeth, the clear noise making O's ears perk toward me.
"It's okay," I murmured, advancing to scratch her muscly neck, exhaling deeply.
I moved forward again, confidently making strides forward. Ophelia followed the first few steps before stopping dead in her tracks, just before the entrance.
Ophelia flared her large nostrils, as she wrenched her head high, letting out an unhappy neigh.
"What's going on with you, huh?" I questioned, moving back to her shoulder again, patting it. "Look, it's all good in there."
I gestured to the horses already in the barn, calmly in their stalls, horses that used to be my grandpa's.
Magellan, a massive coal black gelding, who was in the first stall, looked especially chill, dozing upright.
"See?"
Ophelia's brown eyes were still opened relatively wide, eyeing her new home uncertainly.
"Dad, can you hold her please?"
Dad agreed before taking my place at O's side.
Next, I slowly backed away, my eyes locked on Ophelia's, watching her watch me step inside the stall ready for her.
There wasn't anything to be afraid of in the barn, I had no idea why my spooks-at-nothing horse wouldn't want to go inside.
"See?" I called to the proud animal, waving gently before returning to her side. "It's not so scary."
Just as I turned, a gust of wind billowed through the barn towards us, swooshing my deep blonde hair back.
Ophelia let out a loud, guttural neigh, wrenching me forward as she jumped away from the stable.
"Easy, O!" I tried to keep my grip on the lead, but it was me playing tug-of-war against a thousand pound animal. "Settle down!"
It was no use, for Ophelia reared back onto her hind legs, but I was determined not to let her go.
"Ophelia!" I called as clearly as I could, dropping my stance to one that was much more stable, staring the horse straight in the eyes as her hooves hit the ground with a thud.
Rosie made a noise of concern, but stayed with Ginkgo, knowing I could handle my horse.
As I stared into her eyes, I could feel her fear, as though it was my own when I was running from the bear.
"I know you're scared," I murmured, touching my forehead to hers. "But I need you to do this for me, okay? We'll do it together."
Keeping my eyes locked, I stepped backwards into the barn once more, willing Ophelia to follow.
I smiled widely when I heard her first horseshoe clack against the concrete, grinning widely at the little victory, patting O's shoulder firmly.
"Good girl." I whispered, leading her into her stall, fresh wood shavings making a tan and fluffy blanket on the floor.
The tarnished silver latch clanged as I slid it open, guiding the door open before escorting my horse inside. Over my shoulder, I watched Rosie lead a stressed-out looking Gingko, into the stall across from Ophelia's.
"Are you okay? Hm?" I cooed to my horse, my best friend, wrapping my arms around her powerful neck. Her chest heaved a great breath, swaying my stance a bit, before exhaling deeply. "It's alright, everything's okay now."