Enjoying the Morning

I've been doing absolutely nothing but sketches on Tumblr lately, and never completing anything -- so it's nice to see this completed. A bit weak, but completed. All I have to do on Tiger's show entry is get his background done and then he's good to go I'm so excited for these two!

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Percy had grown to have a definitive routine laid out for himself in the mornings. Hang his head out his stall door when he heard the multiple footsteps and occasional too-early yawn of the staff as they prepared to feed. Wait patiently (well, almost; he couldn't help but nicker and fuss whenever he smelled it) for his feed to be dropped in his bin. Eat, let it sit in his pleased gut for about ten minutes and watch the activity of the barn slowly rise. They'd always have to bring Daisy in from the field because she couldn't stand the stalls for over an hour. Riddler would pace constantly and slam the stall door with his body, ears pinned and impatient for food. The young grey always discovered something new as he watched, and while the information of the morning was never all that necessary, he liked to learn. So he watched.

The season of Summer had already arrived, and with it the heat. Already, even before the sun had risen over the far-away tree tops, the sun had begun to heat up the land. During the middle of the day little work was done; the lack of an indoor arena prevented much productivity, and even the yearlings had taken to the shade of the trees when they could. Percy missed the winters; he could race Marty down the long side of the fence and kick up his heels whenever a sudden gust of wind would excite him. The heat was more bearable to him than most of the other horses, whom had dark and heat-absorbing coats, but not by much.

"Alright, kiddo," He heard the familiar jingle of his halter and his ears perked as he turned his head, watching with a greeting rumble at the back of his throat as Lyn approached him. "Let's get out there before the sun beats us to it, yeah?"

He was patient as she slid the door open and slipped it on, eager to move from being in the box all night. But, of course, manners were manners, so he managed to still his energy with mild jigging as she led him out of the stall and down the isle. As they passed the wash rack, she gently raised a hand and patted him when he tried to halt. No work? No work? This was definitely odd, indeed. "Not you today, Perce," Lyn commented, clicking her tongue to get him moving forward again. "You've deserved a few days off. Get to watch your buddy make an idiot of himself."

Buddy. Ah. Percy gave Marty a sideways glance as he passed the brindle's stall, but it was not returned. The stocky Waler still had his head dipped down and was too busy making more noise and ruckus than actually getting food into his mouth. He would never deny that he was not attached to his paddock mate, but he would not defend the other stallion's stupidity. The grey was nearing six years of age, finally maturing and settling down from the insane abundance of energy his young mind gave him for use, but it appeared as though Marty's fourth birthday would be considered as his first. Alaura, the other familiar two-legged, had sworn and shouted at him more than any other horse. In fact, most of the HH staff were always yelling at him for something. He was far fetched from his gentle-natured dam, even farther from his prim and proper yet alcoholic half-sister. If nothing, the paddocks would receive an incredibly interesting show.

The temperature was gentle on his back as they stepped out into the rising light. A breeze had picked up, hushing the oncoming heat as it ruffled his mane and braided tail. "Maybe it won't be so bad.." Lyn commented, talking to herself more than to her companion, but he touched her shoulder with his muzzle in recognition. The breeze was nice to have so early in the morning, but he had little doubt the herds would be driven to the shade of the trees at some point.

He nickered gently as she led him through the gate, hearing the cluckcluckcluck of the several chickens within the coop that had been built especially for Marty. It had been some sort of joke when they were little, he thinks. He still remembered Marty trying to coerce him into running after a chicken, who had looked like it had been put through too much "fun" for one day. But of course, Marty kept finding wild hens, and then to further boost his entitlement the staff had bought him several. Personally, Percy thought he was way too attached to the strange birds, but they did him no harm and so he left the other stallion and his small hen harem well alone. 

With a gentle shake of his head to slip out of the halter, he hopped upwards in a short display of freedom before retiring to a long-strided trot to his favorite tree. Whenever he could, he always liked to simply stand under it's shade and watch the others work, permitting Marty did not bite him or shove into him. That was the thing; he loved to watch and take in things, but Marty was never happy standing around. He had to move in some way, or be occupied with his precious feathered creatures. But Percy...no, Percy found more satisfaction seeing the world around him rather than busying himself with chickens. It was also the reason Percy was at a far more advanced level than his companion, who still refused keeping up any sort of decent mannerisms in the ring. He still claimed a kick of his heels was more flashy than a square halt. 

Sure enough, there he was -- looking grumpy already, presumably by not being allowed to lick his bucket clean, being led by Alaura. Percy's head raised and he watched, giving a mild swish of his tail (which was completely pointless in his opinion, as his tail bag was a poor threat to flies). Already he could tell that this ride would not be much better than the others -- A was easily unhappy, and underneath her Marty was already gnawing on the bit as if he could chew right through it. This should be interesting, Percy thought to himself, watching. Let the ride begin.

-

Percy had just begun to doze when the creak of the gate and the sudden thundering of hooves alerted him. He opened his half-lidded eyes, but did not bother moving his cocked hind leg or greeting his friend. Marty was already surging over, still damp from his hose-off, ears perked and tail flagged in utter excitement. Although his chickens could not keep up with his quick stride, they sure tried, collectively chasing after him several lengths behind. 

Did you see? Marty asked, clearly proud of his accomplishment as he dug his hooves into the sand and sprayed it across Percy's white legs. His nostrils flared and with each blow came a small hrr in greeting, one which Percy did not bother to repeat. He was not amused.

Yes, I did. You actually threw her today. He replied, his tone flat and annoyed. It killed Marty's excitement like a snap of the neck. Don't make her hate you too much. You're going to end up like Riddler if you don't watch yourself.

Apparently, it didn't kill it completely. Psh. I will not. Riddler was an idiot.

Marty feinted injury, reaching his head over and nipping at Percy's shoulder. The grey's leg picked up in a warning, but it was an empty threat and the brindle took no notice. Ouch. You're all heart this morning.

Of course, the chickens had now reached him and demanded his attention, clucking and making all sorts of unruly and loud noises that he was never going to ignore. They milled about his feet, searching for something to eat, further disturbing Percy's peaceful morning. You're such a filly. Go dry off in the sun before I kick one of them.

You wouldn't, Marty threatened, his ears pinning as he made to bite his paddock mate's rump in an attempt to get him to play, but Percy actually struck out at him. His hoof landed snugly on Marty's chest, which emitted a squeal from the other stallion and scattered his feathered harem, but it was enough to get the hint. Yeah, yeah, you nag. With a defeated swish of his tail he turned and padded back out into the sunlight, dipping his head to graze and leaving Percy to enjoy the morning.

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Woops I tried a new perspective of writing