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Post by Magdalene DeFoe on Aug 26, 2010 20:11:12 GMT -5
Mag stuck her foot in the stirrup of the black dressage saddle and swung her leg over the sixteen-hand Friesian stallion, gathering the reins as she got situated. Bracken's ears tipped back as he took in her movement, shifting his weight to comfortably take her own. Mag leaned forward and ran her hand up and down Bracken's neck under his thick, partially braided mane, lowering her eyes forward as she mentally ran over just what she was going to work on with Bracken. She tugged gently back and forth at each rein to ask the stallion to get on the bit, which he easily obliged, dropping his muzzle so it was level with his chest, rounding his neck and softening his mouth on the bit. Without a sound, Mag gently nudged her heels into Bracken's sides, asking him for a collected walk. His gait was smoothe, elegant. This went on for about five minutes before she urged him forward into a trot.
It amazed Mag just how athletic Bracken was. She performed figure eights with the stallion, serpentines, asked him to leg yield and side-pass. He performed a near perfect pirouette, and when she straightened him out at the canter he performed a beautiful set of tempi-changes when asked. Mag asked him for a piaffe and the stallion elegantly obliged. Every second he took in her request, ears tilted toward her, listening to every movement she made. They were a team, it was clear. |
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