Phase 2 | Past and Present

     “Y’know, you’re really living up to the stereotypes,” I grumbled, dusting off my knees before slowly standing back to my feet. Firewatch let out an unamused snort as she watched me from the fenceline, her sides gently heaving with each breath she took. She was caked in dried mud, and my best efforts to catch her today were not well met.

     It’d been three weeks since we started her new diet, and she was still as pissed as day one. The vet didn’t find any severe lameness from the laminitis, which was a blessing, but her weight was a big issue. Pun intended. I still hadn’t received any additional paperwork from her previous owners, and with no idea what they were feeding her, it’d been hard to determine our best course of action.

     For the first two weeks, I had decided to keep her in the dry lot. Celina had finally started warming up to her by the end of it - a miracle, considering how absolutely rotten Fire’s attitude still was - and the decision was made to pasture the two of them together. With a grazing muzzle on Fire, of course. 

     She snorted at me once more, her ears flicking forward as I began slowly approaching again. Dry lot at night, pasture during the day. Except, today, she really had no interest in letting me catch her. Halter in hand, I approached once more, extending my arm out with a handful of hay, hoping to entice her just enough to get the rope around her neck.

     She reached forward, keeping her hooves planted, and sniffed loudly at the forage. Before I could even take another step closer, she let out a shrill whinny, spun around and trotted off around the edge of the pen, tail held high.

     She was actually enjoying this. At least I wasn’t on my ass in the dirt again.

     Every few times, she’d let me get close enough, just to get the lead rope around her neck, and then bolt, sending me flying down to the ground. Fortunately, the schedule was working, and she was definitely losing weight. She looked better, moved a little easier. She was still as pissy as ever, though.

     Hay in the morning, hay at night. Always fed with Celina in the other pen. Shoving her face into a hay net was the only time I’d ever seen her truly relax and seem content with life. We’d been trying to work on building a more positive bond - I wouldn’t let anyone else feed her, in hopes she’d like me more with me being the only source of food. Some days were better than others, but most days were still not great.

     I moved my focus down to her legs as she trotted along the edge of the fenceline. No lameness still. Thank god for that. 

     Another shrill whinny erupted from her as she called out to Celina, who was already happily enjoying her pasture time, and I stifled a small laugh.

     “How about we skip the groom? Just the muzzle and you can go join your friend,” I crooned, swinging my arms as I slowly made my way towards her again. She turned her head to look back at me and paused, watching me as I walked. I slowed just a little as I approached, extending my hand still clutching my peace offering, and she sniffed once more, contemplating accepting it.

     She nudged my hand this time, a sign of good faith, before lipping at the hay between my fingers. A wave of relief flooded over me as I dropped the hay, slipping the lead rope around her neck as she lowered her head to her snack. I waited until she lifted her head back to me once more and slipped the grazing muzzle over her head, smiling wide at my success.

     “Try not to drag me this time, you cow.”

     She snorted, shaking her head in response as I led her towards the gate. Throughout the last three weeks, I’d learned that, on her good days, she had impeccable ground manners. I at least knew she’d been ridden before, but it’d be a while before we got anywhere near testing that out.

     Plans for the future, at least. Now that she was losing some of her extra fat, her true build was finally coming out. She was solid, a little stocky but no obvious extreme conformation flaws. She had good feet, which was a blessing so far considering how explosive she could be. 

     Nothing really seemed to set her off, besides being grumpy about her food, and I’d finally decided to chalk it up to a bad attitude. She likely always got her way, and she definitely acted like a bit of a boss mare when we tried her in a larger group, so only time would tell if some time without that status would change her tune. 

     She walked quietly as we made our way to the paddock, her gaze focused on her friend who seemed oblivious to our arrival. As we reached the gate and I undid the chain, Celina’s head finally shot up, her ears perked forwards at us. She let out a low, chuffy neigh as she realized who was with me, and she took a few steps towards us. Not that it made a difference - she was halfway across the paddock already, lost in a grass-filled trance.

     After I swung the gate open, I turned my attention back to Firewatch once more, petting the flat of her forehead for a moment before reaching under her chin to unclip her lead rope. She dipped her head as she started walking, only making it a few steps before breaking into a trot, then a canter, eager to get to her friend. The air was still a little crisp, dew still settling on the grass with a slight fog just at the horses' hocks. Sunlight filtered through the trees above them, rays of light illuminating the whites in both of their coats and glinting off of their tails as the swished them at the morning flies. 

     I smiled to myself as I pulled the gate back towards me, barely looking away from the two to close the gate latch. I leaned forward against the railing, resting my arms along the top, and laid my head against my arms as I watched her excitement burst out as she reached her friend. She hopped a little, tossing her head to the side as she spun in the air before prancing around to Celina’s other side. The grey mare had warmed up to her quite well - still a little timid when Firewatch got overly excited, but her loud personality seemed to bring out some normalcy in Celina. 

     Just like every other day, she finally lowered her head to the ground in an attempt to graze. I watched her annoyance build as she tried to nip through the slats in the muzzle, until she let out a frustrated, shrill whinny and stomped at the ground where she’d just been trying to graze. Her head lifted and her eyes immediately found me at the gate, and she stood still for a moment before lowering her head to the ground once more, repeating the cycle again.