Sphinx Claim attempt

Another day, another try. To be fair, it will be first time I try to tame that mare I saw a week ago. Ever since then, we have gotten record-breaking amounts of snow fall, at least 5 inches just overnight for some days! While it was pretty outside, the snow coating the trees and roofs of the barns and stalls creating a nice accent to the dark colors of both objects, it was not worth the sheer hassle that snow is. Every time winter comes along, I get both happy and estatic by the sights but saddened by how much of a burden it will be. It was even a struggle to go outside and stall the horses, I was stuck wading through snow; and that worked up quite a sweat, my discomfort made even more obvious when I felt my sweat dry and only leave chills in their absence. Obviously, me and my uncle could not try to even go out and see and befriend the mare. But, today, the snow has calmed itself down and it was the first night where there was not any snowfall. 

So, it was a nice morning. I estatically called over my uncle about the lack of snow, in some ironic twist of a Christmas movie. He grumbled about how it might be dangerous to drive up still, but I countered with how it was not warm enough for black ice to form on the roads. My uncle, as he always does with all of my horse related ideas, eventually relented due to his own love of horses. So now, I was sat comfily in his old, beat up truck with a miraculously working heater as he prepared the customary bell that all Teddy Cobs are presented with. A blue ribbon hangs off of it this time, a nice complimentary color for the nice tan color the mare had. 

The drive up to the valley was longer than usual, thanks to some parts of the road not being fully cleared of snow yet. But, after some tricky manuvering and hopes we would not swerve off into the road, we made it to where we last saw the mare. The entire week me and my uncle were essentially forced to be cooped up in our farm I was thinking about her and how exciting it would be to finally meet her and try to see what her personality was like. It would only be great if she was agreeable. The truck came to a stop and brought me out of my reflective state. My uncle was already calling to get out of the truck and I savored the last of the warmth that could only be found within enclosed walls before being forced to face the biting chill of winter. The thing I do for horses. 

With my hands shuffled in my pockets and a handwarmer my uncle had the foresight of bringing, we started the longest and most excruciating part of all: waiting. We came to the valley in the morning, and usually we can both wait it out until twilight, but the cold might be halting us in our tracks. But, maybe hope can make us push through. Hours passed by, but as soon as me nad my uncle were about to pack it up, a buckskin horse stuck out in the white expanse of valley. And there she was. 

The same mare I saw that last week, who has been running around in my mind, was right in front of both us. While still curious enough to sniff the area around us and linger there to begin with, she seemed much shyer than someone like Bear, who was immediately friendly. She kept a cautious distance and her stance screamed that she was able to bolt at a moment's notice. But, the fact that she even came to see us to begin with is promising. Even the shyest Teddy Cob still innately have a draw towards humans. Me and my uncle were careful not to move, scared that we might startle her before she got a good impression of us and her surroundings. But, the moment she sniffed the bell we had lying on the ground, me and my uncle both knew how this would play out. And before we could grab the bell and take it away, she nudged it with her nose and a tiny jingling noise was made. The mare reared up in shock, her ears pinned flat against her head and her legs flailing in any and all directions, whinnying as me and my uncle scrambled away to get out of her range of attack.  She ran away as soon as all 4 of her feet were planted onto the snow, leaving behind the bell and our wits. My uncle ushered me into the truck as we drove all the way back to the barn. Both of us were still shaken, trying to process what had just happened. Even my uncle was silent on the way down, no reassuring words or remarks or grumbles or anything. I guess it was to be expected that not all horses would be calm or bombproof.