~ Willow - Western Pleasure

Taylor led Nightmare out of the show ring, her heart still humming from the high of the class even as the mare strutted beside her like a living thundercloud; her tail swishing excitedly, her head held high and proud, utterly unimpressed with the world but undeniably pleased with herself. The blonde gave her a fond pat as they reached the trailer, loosening the girth and slipping the reins over her head. “You were a menace, as always.”, she murmured, “But a gorgeous one. And you know it, you little Nightmare.” The dunskin flicked an ear and gave Taylor’s shoulder a gentle bump before letting out a dramatic sigh as if to say, Finally, we’re done. Now leave me alone.

Taylor unsaddled her quickly and wiped her down with a cool cloth, brushing sweat off her flanks and checking each hoof for packed dirt. Nightmare stood mostly still, though she did give a pointed tail swish at a fly and tried once to nip at a passing rider who got too close. Once she was settled back into her trailer spot with a hay net and a bucket of fresh water, the woman turned her attention to her next mount: Willow, her belted grullo tobiano mare, was already standing tied beneath the awning, watching the activity with calm, curious eyes. Her coat was a vision of smoky grey and shadow, with a bold white striping around her barrel that made her look like she wore a sash of clouds. Her mane was a wild mix of black and silver, cascading in thick curls over her elegant neck.

Compared to Nightmare’s sharp edges, Willow was all grace and patience. She lowered her head slightly when Taylor approached, her ears pricked forward in quiet greeting. “Alrighty, baby-“, Taylor hummed, unclipping her lead rope and running a hand along her smooth neck, “Your turn to shine. Are you excited? I’m excited.” The woman brushed her down once more, though Willow barely had a speck of dust on her since her coat was naturally clean and cool, her legs strong and sure. She stood like a statue, breathing slow and steady, even as the distant sound of the announcer calling out the next class echoed from the ring. The green Western saddle fit her like a glove, the soft leather molding perfectly to her back. Taylor adjusted the cinch and checked her bridle, slipping the bit into her mouth with a practiced ease and Willow accepted everything without fuss, her large eyes soft while her tail was swaying gently.

Finally, Taylor took a deep breath and stepped back to admire her. Willow looked like the embodiment of poise - quietly dazzling, the kind of mare who didn’t need to make a scene to be noticed. “I’m nervous, but you’re gonna be perfect.”, the woman whispered, “I know you will.” With one final check of her stirrups and tack, she gathered the reins and led Willow towards the warm-up ring, ready to ride again and confident that this round would be just as beautiful as the last. The same spectators from the earlier classes were still perched on folding chairs and leaning on the rails, murmuring softly even as the next round of competitors made their entrance.

Amongst them, Taylor guided Willow through the gate with quiet encouragement, the mare stepping forwards with cautious elegance. Her coat glowed like silver smoke, the bold white sash around her middle gleaming beneath the light, and she could feel dozens of eyes on her. The blonde understood why; Willow was indeed one of the prettiest mares she had ever laid her own eyes on. It was clear from the start that Willow was still green under saddle: her walk had a slight hesitation to it, a thoughtful pause with each step as if she were double-checking her footing. Her head bobbed slightly out of frame now and then, and her ears flicked between Taylor and the crowd, unsure of where to focus, but she tried.

Taylor sat deep in the saddle, her posture steady and her hands gentle on the reins, giving Willow a soft nudge, when the announcer called for a jog. The mare didn’t respond right away, so the blonde gave her another subtle cue, and Willow picked up the pace with a soft bounce in her step. It wasn’t as fluid or collected as Nightmare’s earlier round, and it lacked the slow, polished rhythm Cowboy had shown earlier in the day, but it was something. It was honest, and her transitions were obedient, even if they lacked finesse. At the lope, she offered a beautiful lead but struggled to maintain it through the corners, her balance faltering slightly as she adjusted. Taylor whispered gentle reassurances, guiding her through the uneven spots with patient hands and a centered seat.

Willow’s nerves never tipped into misbehavior, just a little tension in her back, a few head tosses, and an occasional tail flick when she wasn’t quite sure what was being asked. But each time, she listened, and recovered, and she kept moving forward. By the time they reversed direction and repeated the patterns, Willow had found a more comfortable rhythm. Her jog became steadier, her lope more coordinated as her ears settled forward, no longer swiveling with every sound. When they halted for the back-up, Taylor took a breath, gathered the reins, and shifted her weight ever so slightly. Willow hesitated only for a beat.

Then she backed, a little uneven, but careful, every hoof placed with effort, and as they finally lined up with the other competitors and waited for the judges to make their notes, Taylor reached forward and gave Willow a soft rub on the neck. “Ah, you did so good, sweetheart.”, she murmured, “You really did. That was an amazing first competition.” Maybe Willoe wouldn’t receive a ribbon, but that was okay, she didn’t necessarily need a ribbon to prove it. Nightmare had dazzled, yes; and Cowboy - as always - had performed with textbook perfection, the little grullo mare had shown a willingness to learn, a trust in her rider and the heart to try even when it was all a little overwhelming.