Confetti c:

The hills glistened as the sun emerged over the pastures, illuminating the cold morning dew. Large groups of ponies grazed leisurely on the hillsides, their thick winter fur fluttering in the crisp breeze. Svea and her young cousin Estrid had arrived in the morning but the faint sound of jingling bells echoed from the woods nearby, hinting that others had arrived early to partake in the long-standing claiming tradition.

 

Nine-year-old Estrid’s boots squished in the dewy grass as she darted ahead, the ends of her long coat flapping behind her like a banner in the wind. She stopped on top of a hill and turned back to Svea, who was approaching at a slower pace with their bag of ribbons in hand.

 

“There, look!” Estrid exclaimed, pointing enthusiastically at a pony that stood a little apart from the group. “Look, Svea, the one with the spots! It has to be him!”

 

Svea narrowed her eyes against the sun. There he was, a wide-eyed gelding whose coat resembled splattered paint, patches of bay-speckled ticking in his tobiano pattern. His mane was long, thick and messy, the kind that a committed pair of hands might struggle with for a whole hour. From this distance, Svea guessed him to be about 130 cm tall, relatively large for a Teddy.

 

“That’s him,” Svea confirmed with a smirk. “The Confetti pony... Let's try putting a bell ribbon on him then!"

 

They recognised him easily after seeing him in the breeder’s herd photo album about two weeks earlier. He looked as though he had been showered in bits of confetti and he had immediately caught their attention. Estrid had picked him out as “the one” before she had even finished looking through the whole album; Svea could do nothing to convince the girl otherwise.

 

“He’s perfect,” Estrid sighed and fell to her knees dramatically. “But how can we get close?”

 

Svea glanced at the ribbons in her grip, they jingled softly in the bag.

 

“Very carefully,” Svea replied, nudging Estrid gently on the shoulder as she stood back up. “We don’t want to startle them. Remember our talk earlier?”

 

“Don’t run, don’t yell, no sudden moves,” Estrid recounted quickly, already whispering despite her excitement. “Use my soft voice and let him sniff me first.”

 

“And if he decides to walk away?”

 

Estrid scrunched up her nose and frowned. “We wait. Or try again.”

 

“Exactly.” Svea smiled, proud of her younger cousin’s patience and focus. “This has to remain in his mane for a long time, remember. He has to learn to trust us first, otherwise he won't stand still for us to braid his mane.”

 

The two made their way slowly down the hill, their boots softly padding on the wet ground. Confetti raised his head as they got closer, his forelock tangled into a long troll braid between his fuzzy ears. For a brief moment, he simply observed them, his ears perked forward and his nostrils flaring as he smelled the air.

 

Estrid led the way, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a carrot and a slice of an apple. She crouched low, extending her hand, and breathed calmly. After a minute, Confetti took two steps forward and then paused before taking one more. At last, he approached the girl and pressed his muzzle into her palm. Svea held her breath until the gelding closed his eyes and leaned in, not for the carrot or apple, but for a gentle nudge of his forehead against Estrid’s chest; right where her heart was beating, steadily and kind. His way of saying "Hello. I’ll listen."

 

Estrid giggled softly as Confetti looked her in the eyes. “He wants ear scratches,” she said knowingly, using her free hand to gently scratch behind his left ear. His head tilted immediately, his lower lip quivering in delight.

 

Svea moved in quietly, extending the ribbon. “Ready to braid?”

 

Estrid nodded. “Can we do it together?”

 

Between the two of them, Estrid carefully guiding the mane and Svea intertwining the colours tightly, the ribbon found its place on Confetti’s neck. The bell chimed softly as he turned his head, seemingly unbothered by the sound.

 

“Do you think it’ll stay until the roundup?” Estrid asked, a sudden flicker of concern showing on her face.

 

Svea knelt beside her and gave her a gentle hug. “I'll be honest, anything could happen, but we're going to be patient and hope for the best outcome right?"

 

Estrid’s eyes glimmered, and she beamed softly as Confetti nudged her for more affection. They stayed together for a bit longer, observing as Confetti eventually made his way back to the herd. The gentle ring of the bell signalled his return among the others. He cast one last glance over his shoulder before bending down to graze, completely at ease.

 

Estrid sighed gently, her breath forming a small cloud in the chilly air. "I hope he remembers us," she remarked.

 

"He will," Svea replied, tucking a loose curl of hair behind Estrid's ear. "Horses are smart, especially Teddy Cobs, and he knows you were kind to him."

 

They turned in unison and began the slow ascent back up the hill, the moist grass squishing beneath their feet as the sun climbed higher. Behind them, the herds of ponies could be heard galloping and their bells jingling. Svea watched as Estrid walked a bit ahead, her vibrant coat swaying with each careful step. There was a quiet resolve in her stance now; the girl seemed content with her effort but also impatient. As they approached the car parked beneath a tree, Estrid stopped, looking back at the pasture one last time.

 

“I really, really hope the ribbon stays in", her tone hopeful yet tinged with concern.

 

Svea opened the car door and offered her a comforting smile. “I believe that if anyone can keep a ribbon, it’s Confetti.”

 

Estrid nodded, satisfied with that response. As they got inside and fastened their seatbelts, the heater kicked in with a gentle hum, warming their chilly fingers.