The air was thick with moisture and Morgana felt like she was swimming through the oxygen. Fortunately it wasn't excessively hot today, just humid. As usual for riding Morgana's hair was pulled back in a low pony tail, the slight curls falling in a river down the small of her back. Even though it had been sunny lately, Morgana was still as pale as ever. That was normal for her though, she rarely got tan. In fact, she never really had gotten tan. Today, since she was feeling spunky, her hazel eyes were hidden by her blue contacts, creating strange color that was a mix of bright blue and a brown hazel. Since Morgana was slightly insecure, she felt as if is hid her true "identity" so to speak.

As Morgana approached the stables, she felt more at home. Around the barn she was a completely different person - outgoing, particularly nice, and talkative. And most of all, in the stable, she was more open to people and less independent - she enjoyed another person's company, or her horse's. Whichever one was in reach. (Usually her mare's, Hope.)

Small little Morgana approached the stable doors, which were open at the moment. It was noon, and people led horses in and out of the bustling barn. A smile spread its way across her small little face, and she walked through the aisle. As she reached the far end of the barn she heard a warm little nicker erupt from Hope's stall. As Morgana approached the stall, Hope's white blaze stood out from the dark dusty stall. All worries were lost when Morgana saw her adored black mare. The Irish Sport Horse mare whinnied quietly to Morgana who slid open the door. Her grooming bucket hung on the door along with Hope's lead rope and halter. Morgana patted the charcoal mare's forehead affectionately, and in return, Hope reached out and lipped Morgana's blue tank-top.

A smile spread across Morgana's face and she slipped on the mare's halter. The black saddle that was Morgana's was left in the tack room so she slid the door closed and ran to grab her eventing tack - polo wraps and boots, Hope's bridle and girth, her martingale, her silver saddle pad and black saddle. As Morgana skittered back towards the stall with her arms overflowing with tack a horse in a nearby stall nickered to her. Morgana plopped the endless piles of tack next to Hope's stall and opened the door to view her horse. She wasn't too dirty, so Morgana just did a once-over with a soft brush and picked out her hooves.

Hope pranced anxiously as Morgana slipped on her saddle pad and saddle. Worried, Morgana went to pet Hope's head. She didn't want her breaking a sweat in her stall. Hope never got anxious or feisty in her box stall. After a few minutes of endless cooing and petting, Hope quieted down and relaxed in the shavings of the large stall. Relieved, Morgana slipped the martingale around Hope's neck, grabbed her bridle and slipped it on Hope's head, who at first refused the bit, but eventually gave in. After clipping everything together she checked all of the buckles and clips, just to make sure. Once she was absolutely sure everything was set she grabbed her eventing vest, slipped it on, grabbed her riding crop, grabbed Hope's reins and led her out of the barn to the cross country course.

Morgana hadn't really planned too much out for the day. Really she only wanted to work on a log jump, a couple ditches, and maybe one water jump. Once the course came into view Hope pranced, excited. She was always excited to work, even if it was dressage. Morgana hopped up into the saddle, adjusted her stirrups, and set Hope out at a walk to make sure her girth was okay. When she was sure she pushed Hope into a trot, tapping the mare with her crop every now and then. A simple log jump came into view and she set Hope off at a canter at first. Then, turning and steering her mare towards the jump, Morgana pushed the mare into a slow gallop, praising her with words and telling her she was okay. This was necessary when you rode Hope - she needed verbal praise to raise her spirits. Hope took off for the log jump with the encouragement from Morgana and cleared it, but a little short. Morgana let the mare gallop a few more strides before slowing her down to a walk.

She leaned over the mare and patted her neck and told her what a good job she had done. Beaming, she set Hope back to a trot and turned, facing the log again.

words: 795
notes: ehh...my first post, not the best, but whatever
muse: not the best
music: Black Eyed Peas - "I Gotta Feeling"
tags: open
credits: Post Header (C) me
Lyrics on Post Header (C) Black Eyed Peas