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Frosty Mornings

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

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Head down, the grey mare snorts at the frozen grass, tiny, crystalline droplets chilled to a degree that they make her teeth ache. The ground will warm through the day, so it is of little concern to her, however, as she picks her way over to the pile of hay, carefully laid within a large, metal tub so as not to allow it to be blown away by the wind. She, once again, snorts her quiet appreciation of the sustenance and dips her dark muzzle down, nosing through the forage for the choicest bits.

A mare, after all, must be treated with the quality she deserves.

The field is cool and suited, sectioned down the middle with electric tape. The fence isn't switched on, but she knows where she's meant to stay and spends her time moving, letting the movement of her own body warm her on a frosty, January morning.

Although the cold nips at her coat, she doesn't seem bothered by the chill, a trace clip running along the line of her body beneath her thick rug, suited to the weather. Her thicker grey coat hid her natural dapples, but they were still there, waiting to be fully revealed in the glory of her summer coat. But summer was a long way off yet and the bite of the worst part of winter was still to be endured.

Trees rustling softly overhead in a crisp, fresh breeze, she twitched one ear to them, but otherwise relaxed, muscles soft as she finds the best bit of hay and groans in appreciation. It wasn't a bad place she was at, oh no - not by a long shot. And she liked being able to mooch around the field as she pleased, stretching her legs and that sore shoulder that she'd much rather favour when asked to work. It moved better now and she was less crooked too. That meant little to the grey mare, except that she was more comfortable than before. And that was a good thing too.

The black and white gelding over the fence gave her a funny look, flapping his lips as if he was after her hay, but she pinned her ears and turned her hindquarters to him. There's enough distance between them that the action isn't really all that threatening, but he gets the message either way and moves off to continue his grazing, head down. She snorts at him and moves off down the field, the gentle gradient guiding her hooves down onto lusher pastures, kept in the lee of the hill so that they did not chill quite so much.

There, she relaxes, tail flicking against the remembered bustle of flies in summer, the warm times now nearly forgotten. It is quieter where she is too and different, but she was often taken to nice, busy places too, so that was interesting. It was good to go out and good to see different things. And, oh, she'd gotten to see so many new things, wonderful things. So many things to keep her attention and keep her mind active. She lipped at the grass thoughtfully. But peace and quiet was nice too. That meant more time for dozing under the trees or tucked up in a nice, thick bed of straw in the stable.

But there is more to her life now - daily attention. And, oh, how she liked that attention, a groom every day and far more fuss than could be allowed in a quick muck out and feed. Human contact had not been as much as she liked before, even if she was well cared for amongst all the other horses, never wanting for anything. She hadn't realised how much she enjoyed it until it was laid out before her like a treat waiting to be devoured.

Shaking her head, she flips her pulled, black mane back and forth, enjoying the light feel of it on her neck without the neck of the rug hoisted up to her ears. They left her neck free of the admittedly warm, comfortable rug when the weather was brighter and it meant she could rub and scratch and itch to her heart's content, soaking her mane in the grass when it was nice and long. Her last mom hadn't let her do that.

If a horse could have smiled, she would have done so.

Yes, life was good. A different kind of good, but one where she could stretch her legs more and enjoy more attention - double attention, even. She would be brushed all day long and stand there dozily, resting a hind leg as her bottom lip drooped and quivered. They knew all her itchy spots and what would make her shiver with pleasure, pushing into the hands that could reach all the spots that she simply could not, no matter how many times she rubbed and rolled.

Lip wobbling, she thought that she would not mind a scratch right now. But where were they? They were late! The day was getting on, didn't they know!

Ah, right on time. The rumble of the old vehicle growled up to the drive alongside the stables, heralding their approach. It was hard to miss and a sound she listened out to, daily, when the time was just right. Like any other equine, she liked her routine too.

Lifting her head, she whinnies to the vehicle, loud and rumbling, pulling up at the gate and breaks into a trot, clattering noisily onto the hard standing. The geldings on the other side of the fence pay her little mind, though they have an interest in those set on disturbance the equine peace too and keep one eye on the duo as they approach.

But the mare is wiser than them and bobs her head over the fence, curling her upper lip back from her teeth and shaking her floppy ears in the most endearing way she can imagine. Well, she doesn't know it's endearing, but she knows that making a pretty face gets her good things - many good things. And those people are good too, giving her scratches in all the right places and, above all, they deliver one important thing.

Those people mean treats.