~ Aimee - Trail

During Taylor’s Western Pleasure class with Nightmare, just behind the barn row, Aarya was preparing a different kind of competitor. Aimee, the prettiest grullo mare in Taylor’s herd - at least, according to Aarya - stood tethered quietly beneath the shade of a canvas awning. Her soft mouse-gray coat shimmered with hints of silver and steel, her dark points accenting her expressive, doe-like eyes and black-tipped ears. A long, old scar ran down the length of her right hind leg, a relic of an injury that had once threatened her riding future. But now, healed and cared for, Aimee was still able to be ridden, even if she had to take things slower these days. She wouldn’t be in the Western Pleasure ring, that wasn’t her pace anymore. Instead, she and Aarya were headed for the trail class - a more thoughtful, measured event that asked for trust and partnership over speed or flash. Aimee excelled at those quiet moments: walking over a gently wobbling bridge, backing through an L-shaped pole, or pushing open a gate without hesitation. Aarya brushed the mare down with slow, steady strokes, humming softly under her breath as she worked. The mare sighed, her lower lip loosening, eyes half-closed with contentment.

“Aw, yes, you’re such a good girl-“, Aarya murmured, running the brush down Aimee’s flanks, pausing carefully near the sca, “We’re gonna have a lovely little stroll today, you and me.” She combed out the thick, wavy strands of Aimee’s mane, then ran a cloth over her hooves before slipping on a simple, well-fitted Western saddle. Every buckle was checked twice, nothing too flashy, just functional and comfortable - exactly how Aimee liked it. By the time the mare was fully tacked, she was practically dozing, one hind leg cocked and her ears turned gently towards the soft sounds of the show. Aarya smiled and kissed the top of her neck, “Let’s go show them how a trail queen walks.” And together, calm and collected, the two made their way towards the quieter ring where precision was really the only things that mattered. The trail course was set up in a quieter corner of the Colorado Horse Park, tucked between a row of shady trees and a low ridge that caught the wind just enough to keep the dust swirling gently in the air. Colorful flags fluttered along the fenceline, and a cluster of spectators gathered on hay bales and benches near the entrance, watching as one pair of horse and rider after another made their way through the challenges.

Some obstacles were straightforward: a wooden bridge, a narrow chute marked with cones. Others were more complex; wind-blown tarps, a mailbox with a flag that had to be raised, and a labyrinth of poles arranged to test a horse’s precision and a rider’s focus. Aarya guided Aimee through the entry gate with the reins loose, her body relaxed. The grullo mare’s ears were alert but soft, swiveling to take in the sounds around her. Her hooves made soft, deliberate contact with the ground, and her every step looked like it had been rehearsed a hundred times before - well, maybe because it had. They paused just beyond the welcome marker, and Aarya let Aimee breathe, giving her a gentle pat on the neck, seconds before the announcer called their number, a light cheer rising from the small crowd. The first obstacle was a ground pole fan: six poles arranged like the ribs of a fan that required careful placement of hooves to avoid knocking them. Aimee walked in without hesitation, her steps slow and methodica, adjusting her stride without needing much cue, her body responding to the slightest shift in Aarya’s seat, clearing the fan flawlessly.

Next came a bridge - a wide wooden platform with brightly painted slats and a slight rattle to it. Aimee flicked an ear at the sound as she stepped on, but she didn’t hesitate. Her stride never wavered as she went up and over, clean and steady, her hooves tapping softly like a lullaby. The third obstacle was then more challenging: a row of fluttering pool noodles suspended from a frame, forming a soft curtain they had to walk through. Aimee slowed for half a heartbeat, her eyes narrowing, her nostrils flaring. Aarya leaned forward slightly, whispered a calm, “You’re okay, sweet girl-“, and gave her a gentle nudge. Finally, Aimee stepped forward. The noodles brushed against her neck, her shoulders, her flanks and the mare blinked but didn’t spook. One ear stayed locked on Aarya the entire time before they eventually emerged on the other side to soft applause. Then came the back-through; a narrow chute formed with poles, requiring Aimee to reverse between them with precision. Aarya gathered the reins slightly, shifting her weight just enough to signal the change. Aimee’s hindquarters engaged, and she began to back - straight, square, without touching a single pole, every single motion of hers was controlled.

A mailbox stood near the next turn, with a small red flag. Aarya reached out to lift the lid, placed a folded paper inside, and flicked the flag up with practiced ease. Aimee stood perfectly still through it all, one hind hoof cocked, relaxed. But then came the tarp. It rippled in the wind, the edges snapping softly. A bright blue rectangle laid flat across the arena floor, but it might as well have been water to some of the horses who had refused it earlier. Aarya breathed in, “Let’s go.” Aimee took one step, then another. Her hoof touched the tarp and it crinkled. The mare paused, flicked her ears… and walked on. Straight across it. Smooth, even strides, no tension in her neck, no stutter in her pace. The last challenge was a gate; a real one, hinged and latched, designed to simulate working conditions. Aarya reached down, unlatched the gate, and maneuvered Aimee through in a perfect side-pass, never letting the gate swing too wide, closing it behind them with ease. As they exited the course, the announcer called out their completion time, followed by a murmur of approval from the judges’ booth. Aimee gave a soft huff and stretched her neck out, clearly satisfied with herself, and Aarya laughed and rubbed her neck, “Ahh, Aimee my girl, you are my favorite for a reason!”