A young boy, about thirteen, reluctantly tore himself away from his perch beside a pine tree. He padded towards the woman, presumably his grandmother, and entered the small tepee with her. He'd been so interested in the blue roan mare that had been caught yesterday. She was a beautiful creature, and so odd. Parts of her were silver and shiny, and felt cold or hot depending on the environment, unlike the normal warmth of all mammals. His brother had gave the mare a very fitting name, for such an appearance.
Little Hawk glanced back over his shoulder, blinking in the sunlight. "I don't know, Gramma, Shining Brook seems special."
"Indeed," his grandmother said softly. "She does seem quite...unusual."
And then they turned towards their work.
Our heroine, now to be christened Shining Brook for this point in the tale, was standing dolefully next to a tree she'd been tied to for fear of her making a grand escape. She snorted. Now, she'd been here for three days, getting adjusted to her surroundings. They'd moved every day after her capture, traveling father north. She could not, for the life of her, figure out why. She seemed to be living in a haze, and felt ill sometimes as well, though it wasn't happening too much.
The Indian approached. The one that had caught her. He always led her around on these treks. Apparently, he was going to make use of this afternoon where they decided to settle in a hidden cove. He walked towards the mare with the side-ways smile of his, his eyes half-closed. He pat the mare's muzzle, and she didn't resist or retaliate. She'd gotten used to this petting as a display of fondness, like a nuzzle, back at the laboratory. "It's time, Brook, to learn how to be ridden."
And thus began an extensive training that would either make or break a horse. It all started with a blanket that was made heavy by soaking with water. It was then shaken about her. She was frightened of the object that spat water and billowed about noisily at first. But then she grew calm and even managed to ignore the dreadful thing. Twisted Leaf then chuckled. Good. She could stand the presence of the blanket.
The next step was a bit more spooky. He took the blanket and flopped it onto her back. Instantly, Shining Brook shrieked with terror and bucked about, the blanket flapping weakly on her back, sticking a little due to the dampness, and then it was flipped off and into the dirt. The boy nodded. The normal reaction. If she hadn't bucked, he'd of been quite suspicious.
The process of putting on the wet material on her back continued for about two more hours before she would stand utterly still and let it stay there, finally tired out and deciding it wasn't all that intolerable. She whiffed at Twisted Leaf, blinking dully and shifting herself about. "That's enough for today, Shiny. We'll continue more when the tribe stops again," the red man said, petting her again.
They traveled for one day this time, and he came back in the night with the blanket, this time dry. She put it on her back. She looked back at it curiously, but did not resist. Twisted Leaf smiled at her. "Good girl," he praised her, twirling her forelock about his finger. "Let's try the next step, now."
He placed his hands flat over the blanket saddle on her back and then swung himself on in one smooth movement. He had one second to grasp her mane before Shining Brook let out a scream of outrage and began bucking and raging for all her worth. She whirled, twirled, and thrashed about. Eventually, he was thrown and landed with a thump.
Almost instantly, she quieted and stood calmly, as though the wild, monstrous whirlwind of before had not existed. The Native American scratched his head, dusted himself off and rubbed at his ribs. He'd been a bit bruised, but none the worse for wear. And thus, he began to try, try again. Ever time, she twisted and twirled through the air, throwing her back up and falling down with a scream.
After many tries, she finally stood, tired and overwhelmed, and her rider appeared just as exhausted. "You put up a good fight, Shiny," he panted to the mare, stroking her neck and smiling. "But you're my mount now."
And that was how she became almost, but not quite, broken. Every time she was mounted, she would twist for all her worth. One had to hold on for dear life for at least ten seconds before she finally stopped. Twisted Leaf seemed to enjoy her spirit. It was good to see her with spirit. As you might note, his people did not use reins for their horses.
Instead, he disciplined Shining Brook by using her mane to order her about. She was a swift learning, and in two weeks he had taught his mare how to be a good mount.
They'd been traveling for about a week now, and Shining Brook took pride in always being ridden by Twisted Leaf.
"He always rides the new horses just after they're broken," chuckled a dun stallion that was another steed of the boy's. This deflated her ego a bit, but she still was pleased at being ridden. Never before had she carried a human, and she enjoyed it. It was something that Kougar had sometimes talked about.
How odd. She realized she was starting to think less and less about Kougar. Shining Brook felt a pang of guilt and regret. She dearly did miss that stallion whom had helped teach her, but this would was so interesting as well.
She trotted down the path among the flock of other horses, the majority of them being ridden, the others being led behind. She trotted confidently, using her riders guidance to be maneuvered to the front of the herd.
Then the world erupted around her.