blue

“…and when the little creatures come forth from the hills, some accompanied by the bells lovingly braided into their hair and others without, fret not if your pony does not retain theirs. That simply says it was not meant to be.” – Rósza Lakatos, “The Pony Grandmother”

 

It was this poetic little phrase from the Complete Guide To Teddy Cobs chapter on bonding that Eve repeated to herself as the herd were driven into the pen. The black-and-white stallion she’d lured to her side with Thin Mints was somewhere in the middle of the herd, and she could see his little black bobtail bouncing as he trotted. The herd slowed and began to mill around, some ponies sniffing at the ground and others going straight for the large round haybale in the middle of the enclosure.

 

Eve strained her eyes for the sight of the blue ribbon she’d tied into his mane. The stallion was, rather unhelpfully, facing the other way, and it took some time before he turned so that she could see the cascade of white hair on his other side. Several bells remained tied into his mane - but hers wasn’t one of them. It simply wasn’t meant to be, she thought to herself, and turned for the hills again.

 

—- 

 

Eve was a firm believer in the majority of what the Guide said. Written by the Pony Grandmother herself, the Guide covered everything one needed to know about the gentle Hungarian ponies. It wasn’t that Eve wouldn’t have wanted to try bonding with the stallion again - it was that she knew, deep down, that if the bell hadn’t stayed in, it wasn’t the pony she was meant to have. Others, of course, took a different view; they saw it as a challenge, or at the very least a further opportunity to spend time with the pony in the wild before trying again. With so many bells left in his mane, she knew the stallion would go to a good home - it was time to find her own pony.

 

She walked even-paced up the knoll, breathing the crisp, cool air deep into her lungs. It was quiet now on the hillside, the hubbub from the sale grounds dying away first to a murmur, then nothing at all; the only sound now was the soft swish of her hiking boots through the grass. Her frustration from her first attempts at bonding with a pony had died away to leave a serenity rarely found in those hunting through the hills. If it was meant to be, it would be. It might not even be today, but there were other Pónikötés in the near future, and her decision to try and get a cob hadn't been a hasty one. She'd known upfront the potential effort it would take to find a pony to bond with.

 

It occurred to her that perhaps all the ponies had been driven down into the sales grounds - after all, how were people to know whether their pony had retained their bell if the pony wasn't even there? Feeling silly, she stopped at the top of the knoll to think. It was a good a place as any to rest; the hill offered a good view of the surrounding wilderness, so if there were any ponies relatively nearby, she'd have a good chance of spotting it. 

 

It was as this thought entered her mind that she felt a strong shove from behind her and she lost her balance, stumbling forward and whirling around to face her aggressor. Her indignance changed quickly to amusement as she saw who had pushed her - a small blue roan mare stood behind her, head cocked to one side as if to say, 'want to play?' Eve let out a chuckle. Naturally, just as she'd been thinking there wouldn't be any ponies about, one had found her. If there was meant to be a sign from the universe that she was meant to try and bond with a specific pony, it couldn't get any clearer than this.

 

"Hello, you," Eve said softly, holding a hand out for the pony to sniff. It was young, maybe two years old at best, and was clearly unafraid of her. It hadn't been Eve's plan to take on such a young horse, but there was something about this filly that drew her to it.

 

The filly stepped forward willingly, lipping at Eve's hand, and Eve dropped her other hand into her pocket and drew out a treat.