Post by charlottehawley on Sept 18, 2010 13:53:52 GMT -8
Living might mean taking chances, but they're worth taking.
The navy blue ford truck seemed to rattle on the gravel as it moved slowly down the drive of the farm, the sides covered in a film of dust and grime from the drive; it had been a long drive at that considering it was from Virginia all the way to Addison in Texas. The trailer that followed the small truck (well it was smaller than those made in more recent years) was silver on the bottom half and red on the top half, with a red stripe diving the two colors. It too was also covered in a brown film, the colors less appealing to the eye. Not to mention the dents; it hadn’t exactly been an easy ride for horse or driver. With ever shift of the trailer there was a loud sound of disapproval within, and every so often there was an echo of a clash or bang of hoof against metal. It sounded chaotic and violent, because it was. The tall bay thoroughbred inside was frightened, and after many days of travel was even less cooperative and more stressed than usual. It certainly didn’t make such a trip easy to handle.
In the late summer afternoon the heat was begin to slowly dissipate from the dry air, while the smaller truck finally began to roll to a stop with breaks that screeched; it seemed it wasn’t an easy trip on anything or anyone. The woman in the driver’s seat put the truck in park before grasping the wheel with desperate hands. She let out a long sigh before running a small hand in her long curly blond hair that hung haphazardly around her face. Quickly she pulled the strands together and using her blue scrunchie created a sloppy bun. It wasn’t the style of a model, but it would keep it out of her face while she attempted the daunting task in front of her. Her soft green eyes moved to the small arena often used for lunge work, and knew it would be good temporary placement for the gelding until she could get his permanent housing in the barn set up. Opening the car door she stepped the short distance down to the ground, and smiled a small smile in relief in reaching her destination. Her dark blue jeans covered her blue and white sneakers, while still showing off her toned lower half. Her navy blue v-neck was simplistic, but helped play up her smaller bust; not that she cared of such things, but she certainly did not want to show up and give anyone the assumption she was a bum. No, not at all.
While she walked around behind the truck she grabbed a green lead rope from the truck bed before preceding to the trailer it was easy to read the apprehensive expression on her features as she moved to the trailer’s door. Inside it seemed quiet until her hand grasped the handle and turned it; at that moment there was a sudden burst of energy from the gelding who kicked out and attempted to rear and lash out with his forelegs. Her heart broke when she saw the fear in his dark brown eyes, as he desperately tried to increase the distance between the two of them; though he was trapped in the trailer and that was when he would lash out. She understood the basic concept behind that, but she did not know enough about horses to help him. She could repair the damage that had been done to him, and that was what had brought her to Crossfire Farm. Charlotte was intent on finding someone who could help her help the poor gelding, if not anything else. She cooed softly to him as she clipped the second led rope in place. Moving to the back of the trailer she unlocked and slowly lowered the ramp.
There was a sudden kick from the gelding, his hind leg reaching towards her to connect his hoof to her side. The fine edge of his hoof grazed her, luckily not putting his whole hoof or his full power into the kick, which would certainly leave a bruise, but she had been expecting an unpleasant reaction on the gelding’s part and had moved far enough out of the way to avoid any serious injury. Still, from the sudden pain she stumbled backwards, and stood doubled over for a few minutes to catch her breath. “Shit.” She mumbled as she looked in the direction of the gelding, who thankfully appeared to be alright, at least physically. But it didn’t mean he was ok. It was clear to anyone with the smallest amount of common sense the poor equine was far from being ‘ok’. “Oh DC, why won’t you let me help you.” She said sadly as she straightened up her posture.
Charlotte then lifted her shirt and could already see a bruise forming just over her hip on her side. It ached when she took in a breath, and was obviously tender to the touch. She lowered her shirt and then held her arm around her side, trying to hide her discomfort. She had been kicked one other time already on the trip, and had avoided injury a few other times before. In a way she felt lucky, though she imagined to some people that would seem ridiculous. Trying to stand straight she looked around and wondered if there was anyone who was willing to give her hand. “I could just use a little help.” She said as she looked to the sky briefly before she walked slowly to the side of the trailer, leaning against it to take a moment before she would attempt to back him out of the trailer once more. I wish I knew what to do...
Words; 966
Tags; Skyler Bane
Notes; Sorry it took me so long, and I know it sucks...I'm a little rusty[/size]
