highway but not on a highway

Rian traced the bell ribbon in his pocket for what must have been the hundredth time. The light was fading from the sky far faster than he would have liked, taking with it his chances of bonding with a pony. He let out a frustrated sigh; this would be his third unsuccessful Ponikotes this year, and it was getting harder and harder to watch his friends all begin to bond with and train their new ponies back at the Academy stables.

He'd heard that sometimes, when an Eight wasn't able to find a pony to bond with, they'd be assigned a school pony for the rest of the year to continue their horsemanship studies. Unsuccessful Eights would get a chance the next year as a Nine. He hated the idea with every fibre of his being; how embarrassing, to have to go back the year after and compete against the Eights! In addition, he'd miss out on a full year of training a new pony, and while the teachers kept harping on about how important groundwork and training was, even with a school horse, he found the notion abhorrent. He didn't want some pre-trained school pony- he wanted to prove himself!

Just as the thought occurred to him, he heard a rustle from the copse of trees and a small black pony emerged. He couldn't have been much taller than Rian's chest, but he carried himself with confidence and stood at the edge of the forest with his ears pricked towards the boy. The stallion's nostrils flared, scenting Rian from a few dozen metres away, before he decided the boy was no threat to him and lowered his head to graze by the edge of the pond.

Rian's heart began to race. This was his last chance today - if he failed to tie the bell ribbon into the pony's hair, or if the ribbon fell out, he'd be assigned a school horse. He'd have to make absolutely sure that the pony came home with him. Assessing the little creature, he saw the stallion's mane was too short to braid into. He spared a brief moment to wonder how the semi-feral pony could possibly have a roached mane, but pushed the thought away quickly; now was not the time to worry about such things!

He stepped forward towards the pony, murmuring under his breath as not to startle him. The stallion raised his head, looking curiously at Rian, and that's when the boy pulled the treats from his pocket. To Rian's surprise, the stallion let out a nicker and started towards him. These apple muffins must just smell that good, Rian thought to himself. He'd baked the treats with the rest of the Eights in their home economics class; the whole group had been eager to make as many treats as possible, and had each focused on a flavour to then swap with the other students. The teachers had been impressed with their ingenuity, if not with the black market treat trade that seemed to follow the next day.