~ Lover's Inspection

The sky had traded fire for water, as rain had come sometime in the night, not in a dramatic storm, but in a slow, steady drizzle that softened the earth and left the air smelling of wet grass and turned soil. Clouds hung low over the field, smudging the horizon, and every surface glistened with a thin sheen of water. Gone was the heatwave that had turned the inspection grounds into a furnace the day before, where sunburnt shoulders glistened and the air shimmered like pavement in a mirage. Today, in the early morning, the sky hung low and heavy, painted in muted tones of silver and slate as the  soft drizzle from the night continued to float down just enough to cling to skin and dampen hair. Taylor stood besides the trailer, her rain jacket zipped up to her chin, boots damp and caked with mud around the soles, and the coffee in her thermos had already cooled, but she sipped it anyway, watching the mist curl around the trailers and flutter through the open awnings like ghosts with nowhere to settle. Around her, the grounds were quiet in a way they hadn't been the day before; there was no buzz of sun-drunk tension, no sharp calls over megaphones: just the gentle tap of rain on canvas and the occasional whicker from a nearby stall.

Today, it was Lover's turn to earn her breeding certificate. THis cob was the kind of mare who turned heads not with flash or fire, like Taylor's mares Delicate or Nightmare did, but with quiet beauty and a soul-deep softness that drew people in before they even realized it. Her coat, a unique red dun roan, shimmered like soft clay brushed with stardust; pale strawberry hues swirled with ghostly dapples and undercut by that telltale dun stripe running down her spine as flecks of light roan dusted her shoulders and flanks like frost, giving her the look of something dreamt up rather than born. Her legs faded into darker cinnamon below the knee, and a faint zebra striping curled around them in places, subtle but striking. Her lovely small face was clean, expressive, and with kind, thoughtful eyes that always seemed to be watching everyone around her. But, perhaps, what caught the eye most - especially on days like today - were her braids. Taylor had taken her time that morning, weaving the mare's mane and tail into delicate loops that twisted into little hearts, each one secured with a thin ribbon of twine. The soft alloy of Lover's mane and tail contrasted beautifully with the warmth of her coat, and the careful braiding turned her into a quiet work of art. The mare, quite tall for a cob, stood tied calmly beside the trailer, her head lowered slightly, eyes half-lidded in a state of quiet contentment. Her coat now gleamed under the soft light, every muscle beneath it relaxed. Where Delicate had strutted and sparked with electricity, Lover radiated something entirely different; something akin to a peacefulness that seemed to slow the world around her.

The young woman ran a hand down the mare's neck, feeling the warmth under the damp coat. "Are you ready, sweet girl?", she murmured, and Lover blinked slowly as she leaned her head toward the blonde's shoulder, brushing it lightly in acknowledgment. Taylor nodded and led her from the trailer, her boots and the cob's hooves squishing in the soft mud. The air was cool and damp, and a few others moved about the grounds with similar quietness; adjusting their tack, checking important paperwork, or whispering to their horses. No one was in a rush, and even the judges under their pop-up canopy looked a little subdued as they comfortably sat wrapped in layers, their clipboards protected by plastic sleeves. The roan walked beside her like a shadow, hooves placing themselves with quiet precision, her ears gently swiveling to catch the distant sounds of soft chatter, flapping flags, and the rhythmic plop of rain from the edges of tents.

When they reached the ring, the same steward from the day before stepped forward. He perked up, seemingly recognizing the blonde. "Ah, you must be Taylor then.", he mumbled, glancing back down at his clipboard, "With... Cruel Summer?"

Taylor nodded, a thin grin on her lips as she glanced over at her mare before meeting the steward's stern gaze, "Yep yep, that's us. Irritating weather, am I right?"

The steward didn't respond, and only offered a polite smile in return, "You're next."

Taylor exhaled sharply before taking a deep breath, giving the mare's pink-and-red-lead rope a light twitch, before stepping into the ring. Lover followed with serene ease, as if she were strolling into a meadow rather than a place of scrutiny. Today, the inspection ring looked different in the rain. The white rails were speckled with droplets, and the footing darker and softer. The sky above them was a solid sheet of gray, offering no shadows, and no warmth. The blonde halted Lover in the center of the ring and gave her a gentle cue to square up. The mare responded without hesitation, placing her feet just so, standing in a perfect rectangle of patience. The judges then, just like the day before, began their approach. Taylor could already hear it in the soft exhale of one of them: the subtle shift in tone from professional neutrality to gentle admiration. Lover didn't bat an eye as one judge began his circle. She simply stood, ears relaxed, her tail occasionally flicking at a fly, and when a hand touched her flank, she turned her head slightly; not even in protest, but more in polite acknowledgment, and then she stood still again.

"Aw, she's got a wonderful expression.", one judge noted.

Taylor nodded, flashing the judge a proud smile. "She's got a wonderful heart.", the woman replied, loosening her grip on the cob's lead rope for a moment. Another judge then passed in front of the mare. Lover lowered her head slightly, almost bowing, and let out a low, rumbling breath which felt like a sigh, albeit a contented one.

"Wow. She's so calm, so relaxed.", the second judge murmured, jotting something on her clipboard, "You  really don't see that every day."

Taylor let the quiet pride settle in her chest, warm and steady. She knew Lover didn’t shine with explosive charisma, knew that the mare didn't dazzle. No no, Lover endured, and she gave, and more importantly - she loved. Then, at the steward's signal, Taylor led the roan to the trot-out lane, where they moved as one: the soft thud of hooves in damp footing, the rhythm of their strides perfectly in sync. Lover's gait was smooth, controlled, with a kind of flowing softness that didn't demand attention but earned it anyway. She didn't toss her head or flare her nostrils, like Delicate - she just trotted; honestly, and beautifully. Finally, at the turn, they pivoted, and Lover mirrored Taylor's body effortlessly. On the return, her tail swayed lightly, and a few droplets flew off her back as her muscles flexed beneath the wet coat. Back in the center of the ring, Lover settled again into her square. This time, her ears turned slightly toward Taylor, as if to check, Did I do it right? The blonde reached out and gave her a reassuring stroke, "You did well, sweetheart." The judges conferred quietly, then nodded their thanks. The blonde then led Lover from the ring, her boots pressing softly into the damp earth as the drizzle thickened into a steady fall. The quiet hush of rain blurred the edges of the world, softening the outlines of the inspection grounds until everything looked painted in watercolor. The trailers faded into mist, figures moved like shadows, and the white rails of the ring disappeared into the grey beyond.

The mare walked at her side without a tug, without hesitation, her head low, and her steps steady. As they passed beneath the arch of an awning, the mare nudged Taylor's arm with her nose, gentle and insistent. The woman chuckled under her breath, "You want your treat now, don't you? Yes yes, you'll get it. Be pateint." And the cob didn't answer (of course not, it's a horse) but her ears perked forward, and she gave another soft bump against Taylor's elbow, this time with a little more purpose. Back at her trailer, Taylor unbuckled the halter and slipped it off, the metal clip clinking dully against the side of the trailer. Lover shook her head once, raindrops scattering from the braided strands of her forelock. Her little heart-shaped braids had loosened slightly in the moisture, but they still held their shape. The woman grabbed a towel and began drying her off in wide, slow circles, working the rain from her sides and haunches. The mare stood still under her hands, shifting her weight now and then, her breath steady, her eyes half-lidded. And every now and then, she let out a soft exhale, almost like a sigh.  "You really don’t mind the rain, huh?", Taylor mumbled, kneeling to wipe down Lover's legs. Mud clung to her fetlocks and pasterns, but the mare didn't fidget, no, she simply stood, letting Taylor fuss over her. Once the toweling was done, the blonde reached for a soft-bristled brush and began working through the damp coat in long, even strokes. Lover's red dun roan coat coloring looked richer when wet, like earth and flame and morning mist all blended into one, and she smelled like rain and hay and warmth.

Finally, Taylor moved to her mane. She tugged her hood back and let the rain hit her face as she slowly worked her fingers through the damp, braided strands, tightening the loose loops where she could, smoothing the little hearts back into shape. "You were perfect, baby.", she whispered, "Not that you ever need to try." Lover flicked an ear, turning her head slightly, and nudged Taylor again - less for affection this time, and more of a subtle, polite reminder. Taylor grinned., "Okay, okay. I get it. You earned your treat." She pulled a sugar cube from her jacket pocket and offered it up. Lover took it with care, lips brushing over Taylor's palm like velvet, and crunched softly. "Enjoy, baby. You've earned it."