Mu-tes

If there was one thing Vincent was good at, other than hunting, it was breaking in horses. Receiving a new colt, old enough to train, he began work straight away. The black horse often threw bitch fights against the male, but he didn't care. He was patient and gentle. Never did he lay an angry hand on the horse, even when it gave him a harsh nip on the biceps. Now a purple and blue bruise, the male kept going. Months and months of training and gentle, soothing words, he was in the saddle, running through the paces with the horse, rider and beast bonding and finding out how each other move and work. Vincent concluded that the horse had an easy mouth, gentle touch and easy to manipulate. He also noted the fight still in him, though, he would soon work that out of him. His beats with his trots and canter were smooth and even. He was pleased with this. Now, there was one more thing he wanted to do and that was gallop him.

A few weeks after Vincent was comfortable riding the horse bareback, he grabbed a single rope, able to tie this into a halter when he wanted to. Hooking it over his head so it sat on one shoulder and across his head, he moved out, whistling for the horse to come. The long legs of the thoroughbred carried the horse swiftly, his tail risen in a sort of prideful stance. Vincent moved, opening the gate and standing at the entrance, the horse slowing to a mere halt in front of him. He smiled, whispering soft words of praise. Moving to the left side, he vaulted easily onto the horses back, no saddle, no reins. This was the easiest way to ride a horse. He moved the horse out of the ring and began to walk him, using his legs to steer the horse, and holding onto his mane.

Receiving permission half an hour later to use the towns racing track used for racing both horses and greyhounds, Vincent moved his horse onto the track, tossing the rope on a fence post. He then walked the horse around the track, a hand under the animals cheek bones. He walked the horse because he wanted the colt to know where he had to run, know it was okay. After he did the lap, he got on the horse, clicking it into a canter to warm up. Another lap down. When he was close to the start, he kicked the horse into a gallop.

Leaping forward, the horses stroke was strong and swift. Vincent laid low along the horses back, using his knees in the horses shoulder instead of sitting on the horses back to give efficiency. The horse flew across the ground, Vincent's azure eyes focused on the track, his fingers entwined into his mane. Together, as man and beast, they looked like a majestic show.