[Phase 1] An arrival and a green eyed mare

The air was crisp when the lean stallion slowly walked out of the trailer with careful steps. Once his four hooves, some overgrown, stood on the ground again, he looked around. Ears perked forward as he took in his new environment. With a soft nicker, the horse shook his head as if approving of this new place. 

The man handling the horse gazed around. Where was the owner of this facility? When the stallion suddenly looked backwards, the man did so too, wondering what the Loshenka had heard. It took a few moments, but then he saw the slightly older woman walking towards them. Behind her followed a younger lady whose brown eyes had a spark in them. Her skin was slightly tanned, and her black ponytail bounced with her movements. She must be in her twenties, the man would say if he were asked to guess her age. A grin spread on her face when she saw the stallion, its coat gleaming in the sunlight.

“So this the makeover project, madre?” she asked, cocking her head a bit to the right. The older woman nodded in confirmation, her grey hair moving along with the gesture.

“Papaya Rules,” she said.

“Papaya Rules?” the other repeated.

“That’s his registered name, Isabel.”

“His coat does have an orange shade.” The older woman only sighed softly in response. 

“I’m sorry to disturb the little talk, but the documents still need to be signed,” the man of the transportation remarked. Eyebrows slightly raised as he looked at the older woman who obviously was the owner of the grounds. She nodded and requested that the man give the leadrope to her daughter. Isabel had already stepped forward, her arm slightly outstretched as she took the leIsabel watched her mother and the man walk away. Laying a hand on the shoulder of the horse as she took him in. The coat looked alright, the manes on his tail were nicely cut, his eyes stood interested, and his ears curious. The only thing that was off was the length of his hooves. Especially those of his hindlegs. He surely would not be able to walk comfortably, or gracefully, for that matter. Riding this makeover project of theirs would have to wait a bit longer than she had estimated before. First, they would have to work on those hooves and the movements and balance that must have affected.

When her mother came back and the trailer was out of sight again, Isabel turned to her ‘Madre’. Asking if the man had said something about their project, who now chewed on a treat he had received. Her mother shook her grey head.

“He has not, not much at least. He did say we must be careful with removing the boots for traveling. Said he had some problems.” 

Isabel frowned at that. Staying quiet for a moment to think.

“Should we groom him to check if everything is alright and then put him in the pasture so he can get rid of his trailer-legs?” She proposed. Earning a nod from her mother, who then turned around to walk to the stables. Isabel followed her, Papaya Rules, who definitely needed a better barn name, obediently fell in line next to her. Poking his nose in her side.

Did that friendly young female human have more trSadly, she did not have more treats. At least, not ones which she would give to the tobiano stallion. After a few more gentle nudges, he gave up. One ear was pinned forward and one pointed towards his new handler as they walked next to a large row of stables. All with the upper half of the door open so they could look outside. There were horses in most of the stables. Horses who looked up from their hay and observed the new arrival. One horse, whose dark brown hair fell over her head all the way down to the bridge of her nose, nickered softly and stretched her neck towards the woman handling him. This resulted in a pet and a treat for the equine. Apparently, the woman did have some treats left. The mare then turned her neck to look at him. Her green eyes had a curious but friendly spark in them. The woman handling him turned down a corner, robbing him of the opportunity to look at that seemingly sweet mare anymore.Isabel halted the young stallion in the grooming spot. Her madre was already moving to grab a brush and some ties so they could braid his tail. Experience had taught the two equestrian Loshenka tails had a tendency to get dirty and get tangles in them. A lot.

“Did they mention he had a barn name?” Isabel asked. Calling him Papaya Rules would be a bit of a mouthful. There must be a better option.

“They did not. The only name they gave us was Papaya Rules. They did say it referred to that Formula One team.”

“McLaren?”

“I think so. Those are the orange ones, not?” Was her Madre’ss answer. She had never watched the sport as much as her son did.

“Mhm, they are. Though McLaren would make for a good barn name, his head marking even looks like their logo. Ánd if we need something shorter, we could always call him Larry,” Isabel said with a smirk. The name was a bit funky, but it did seem to fit the stallion well. Her madre only nodded, telling her to call the youngster as she pleased. It'd be her project after all.

With that, the name of this new arrival was settled.

“Should we switch, madre? Then you have his leadrope and I will brush him and tie his tail. We don't want to overwork your joints.” Isabel's mother only huffed at the proposition, but, as her daughter had a point, made to take McLarens leadrope and let Isabel do the grooming.

The soft brush in Isabel’s hand went over the golden-like coat from McLaren. The dirt on the tobiano patches was more noticeable, but nothing major. 

“Watch it with his hindlegs, Iza!” Isabel’s madre warned as soon as she saw the stallion’s ears turn bIsabel looked up, saw it, and waited for a moment. He had been fine with the grooming session until now, had even seemed to enjoy it. When her mother told her to continue, but watch out, she did so. Slowly brushing his legs. She stopped as soon as McLaren raised his leg when she reached his knee. With care, she tried to go a bit lower but needed to jump back in order to dodge a kick.

“Thát is something we will have to work on,” Isabel muttered, deciding not to challenge him anymore. She would grab a comb and detangle the tailIsabel looked at her mother after they had put McLaren in a small pasture. Her mother’s green eyes were still on the young stallion, who had ran away in a canter. He had come to a full stop where the apple trees stood, still he grazed there. Biting his teeth down on a red apple.

“Madre,’ her daughter softly had to call out in order to get the attention of the older woman, “why do you think McLaren is so sensitive with his hindlegs? We need to get rid of the kicking, but there might be an underlying issue to work on first, not?’

Her mother nodded in agreement. ‘There must be. Email the organisation makeover if they know who the previous owner is. Maybe one of them knows more.”

Now it was Isabel’s turn to nod. She would write a few emails and do some research into possible causes.

“It is a lovely young horse, though.”

Again, Isabel could only agree. “And very energetic”

“And that."