Post by Thomas Tawney on Nov 29, 2022 22:51:03 GMT
words • tagged Emily Davenport • credits Thomas's friends all knew him as a great loved and judge of horses. Whether it was looking at sturdy farm horses, a new hunter, a carriage horse, or even just a flashy riding horse, the earl had spent his life becoming an expert on what made a horse good. But since his return to England, he hadn't quite settled on a new horse for himself. He'd been trying out various animals, but none of them had quite the same connection he felt with his old horse. There was a steadiness that he missed and a feeling of trust that his horse would know which path to pick in uncertain ground. For now, he was astride a bright coppery chestnut Arabian. She was a bit smaller than the Thoroughbreds he usually rode, and it felt like he was almost touching her head as they cantered. The reins were short, and her head was up. He could sense she was a flighty creature, and her gait was choppy with the canter feeling more like a trot than a smooth rocking horse motion. The evening air was warm with a light cooling breeze. it was perfect weather by all accounts. The park still had wide stretches of open space away from the main paths, and Thomas was happy to let his horse gallop to her heart's content. She kicked out from excitement, and Thomas had a steady seat to ride through the small hops and bucks. But ever the hot and nervous horse that she was, it didn't take long for something to set her off. A small flock of swans took flight from where they were standing near a lake. She wheeled to the side, and the once controlled gallop became a bolt. Thomas clung to the mare's neck, and he was already thrown half way out of the saddle. Hooves tore up the grass, and the whites of her eyes were visible even from a distance. The reins were slack as the earl fought to stay on and push himself back upright. Ahead, there was a main path, and the mare showed no signs of slowing down. |
| Please save for me some gallantry that will echo when I'm gone |
