No Pain, No Gain (open)

[Sonya Williams]

The all-around arena was open and classes were over for the day which left Blake Monroe itching to get into the stables. A new thoroughbred rescue had been delivered already, standing haughtily in her stall in all her glory was Rhythm is a Dancer. Nearly seventeen hands, Dancer was a haughty little filly with a big attitude to match her impressive height. Nearly three years old, she was in her prime and Blake couldn't wait to mount up and ride her. Of course he proceeded with caution, stroking her muzzle and talking softly to her like he had when he'd gone to look her over two weeks ago. Dancer snuffled at him but otherwise seemed thoroughly unimpressed with her new rider. That attitude though, was exactly what Blake liked about thoroughbreds.,

Tacking Dancer was relatively easy though she did try to puff out her stomach when he saddled her. Apart from that though, Dancer tacked well enough. Blake left her halter on, layering the bridle overtop the green nylon restraint. He chose a typical English style saddle since he was darn near certain Dancer had never been ridden western and he wasn't going to race her quite yet.

Just as her name described, Dancer, well, danced once she was tacked. Shifting her weight, stomping her hooves, swishing her tail, watching him impatiently as he unbolted the stall door and led her out. Blake smirked as the bay filly tugged her allowed lead when he led her toward the ring. Dancer tried to steer him toward the trails but Blake kept a firm lead on her, going to the enclosed arena regardless of his new mount's desire to gallop off like a wild animal. Grudgingly, Dancer followed along though she did tug experimentally several times before they got into the shady arena. Making sure all of the gates to outdoor rings were closed and bolted, Blake boosted himself up into the saddle.

Dancer started to prance in place but a sharp tug on the reins stilled her. Blake shook his head, she was going to be an antsy one but hopefully she'd settle down.

"Come on girl, show me what you can do" Blake said, patting Dancer's neck.

Clicking his tongue and tapping her side with his heel, Blake paced her around the perimeter of the arena at a walk before building to a trot. Dancer was exactly like her name, steps very fluid and easy, the stride well balanced. Blake was mildly surprised the tracks wouldn't jump at a mare with her height and easy stride. Oh well, it was their loss.

Before Blake could pace her faster though, something moved near the arena entrance. Dancer planted her feet and bowed her head, snorting and shaking her head, startled by the unexpected movement. Blake leaned back in the saddle but before he could do anything further, the filly flung herself up in a rear. Taken by surprise, Blake found himself flung from the saddle, landing in the packed sand lining the arena bottom. Dancer set off toward the opposite side of the arena at a canter, pacing nervously and snorting.

Grumbling, Blake pushed his torso up with his elbows and looked toward the arena entrance, glaring at whoever had spooked his mare and ignoring the dust in his hair and covering his back now.