I give all of my favorite characters horses. Deal with it. This is my excuse to not work on homework.
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He remembered the first time Nikkie had brought him out to this place. He had shunned it; refusing to cooperate in any way. And indeed, he succeeded...at least for a while. He was ordered by Pamala to let Nikkie bring back out to that smelly place over and over and over again to ride these dumb beasts known as an Equine. He hated it with every fiber of his being. It was a tremendous waste of his time. There was nothing he could find to benefit anything he did.
But then one day, after he had been told to retrieve his horse from the pasture, he found it waiting at the gate for him. It was just staring at him. No expression; just placid. Kirill ignored it and an hour of boring, useless riding later, kicked it back outside. On his way out, Kirill glanced back to be sure everything was in it's proper place and saw the horse still at the gate, watching him leave. But this time the horse's ears were drooped a little and it's head hung low.
Kirill was never harmfully rough with the horse, (the other lady with him and Nikkie had told him off for that on the first day), but he certainly didn't care about anything the horse was doing. He simply didn't want to be there. In his mind, the horse had better cooperate, or hell and high water would go down. Often the horse was obedient, and when it wasn't Kirill would manhandle the animal back into line. He was undisputed master and the horse was the undisputed slave. No exceptions, no mercy, no talk back allowed. The process was working and Kirill had achieved what he thought was dominance.
But on the next ride, it seemed that the horse was fit to be tied with Kirill's attitude. It stepped out of line, almost asking to be corrected. When Kirill did, the horse gave Krill a piece of it's mind. Needless to say, after bucking, rearing and a general clash of the titans, Kirill was defeated and ended up on his back in the arena sand with the horse standing over him with one of those sarcastic "how did you get down there?" looks in a way only a horse can do. Rage and disdain flooded Kirill's body, but Nikkie stepped between him and the horse, assuring the horse's safety.
Kirill was told to get back on the horse. He refused and stalked out of the arena, but he felt the horse's gaze burning into his back. Krill stayed in his apartment for a while after that encounter. There was no way he was going back. That horse, that animal had stripped away the Kirill's prided strength. For once, Krill was outmatched. He had been bumped down the totem pole and it was, quite frankly, embarrassing.
However, the thing that surprised Kirill more was the production of fear. That horse had instilled fear into Kirill's mind. The horse was big: 17 hands tall and weighing in at 1,300 pounds...but it had never before exercised it's potential power until that day. Now the illusion of a gentle giant was gone and Kirill suddenly had thoughts of all 1,300 lbs coming down on his chest. But, somehow, through coaxing and appeals to his honor, Nikkie got Kirill back out to the stable...and there was that horse still waiting for him at the gate. He immediately told the animal that he hated it, but he was wary about what he did physically with the horse. He didn't yank on it's bit, or repeatedly kick it's sides with spurs or keep a tight rein for fear that he would once again provoke it's wrath.
Kirill no longer had the idea that he could be stronger than this animal...so how did he get the horse to do what he wanted then? Throughout the following two hours, the horse taught him things of gentleness, a firm but patient hand, and true leadership. Kirill walked away stunned; a feeling of connection with the horse had risen in his chest. It was suddenly becoming difficult to walk away from the horse staring at him from the gate after he was done riding.
He now looked forward to the next session, though he didn't show this eagerness. The horse was, like always, waiting for him, but this time with a slight expression of warmth. Kirill told it he hated it, but this insult was laced with fondness. That day, he rode for upwards of three hours, only stopping because he was getting extensively fatigued. Real riding was a workout! Having to be constantly in tune with the horse physically took much more than his hands simply holding the reins. Every part of his body needed to be in sync to send cues and signals through his fingers and lower legs to direct the horse. His core muscles kept him balanced, but had to work separately from his feet in the stirrups, which he found were not used for balance. And yet all of this was subtle and gentle. He now marveled at those who did olympic jumping or real cattle work with these animals.
But what tired his body was giving life to his emotions, mind, and soul. Kirill found that he was being changed by the horse; his harsh demeanor was giving way to a more reasonable, sturdy way of thinking. His loneliness was starting to melt, his lack of direction was fading; this horse was effecting every aspect of his life. Now Kirill fully looked forward to spending time with what was quickly becoming his own horse. He was now glad to see that dark grey beast, with ears pricked forward waiting for him at the gate. Each day they were able to work longer and harder. The two had formed a strong bond and Kirill was learning to truly love this horse whom he started calling "друг" (pronounced 'drook') meaning "friend" or "buddy".
He never told anyone what the name meant, for he said it in his native tongue. He had a reputation to protect, after all. But those at the stable could clearly see that Kirill and друг wouldn't be separated, and if they were, hell and high water would go down real, real fast.