~ Grace's Inspection

The sun was just beginning to melt the haze off the fields when Taylor pulled into the inspection grounds with Grace in tow. The early hour cast everything in gold, soft beams illuminating the dew-laced grass and glinting off truck mirrors like fireflies in daylight. It was going to be a long day - again - but at least for now, the breeze was cool, and the skies looked promising. Grace shifted in the trailer behind her, letting out a muffled whinny that the blonde could feel more than hear, her hooves shifting against the padded floor. "Alright, sweetheart-", the woman muttered, stepping out and stretching her back with a groan, "Let's get you polished up." The liver red roan tobiano mare stepped off the ramp with her usual unhurried elegance, her coat gleaming even in the pale morning light; that deep, rich liver red swirling with roaning that made her look like she was carved from burnished mahogany. Her white markings swept in smooth, artistic patches across her body, her tail dipped half in red, half in cream. But her most charming feature, by far, were her ears: short, curved, and teddy bear–like, with little tufts of soft fuzz that made everyone smile the first time they saw her.

Taylor had braided a small silver charm into her mane that morning - a tiny horseshoe dangling against the line of her neck - and now she smoothed it flat with her palm. Grace leaned into the touch, lips twitching slightly. Despite her queenly looks, the mare had always been sweet-tempered and soft-eyed, extremely fond of children and carrots and long grooming sessions that lasted well past necessity; but she also had a streak, unpredictable like a hiccup in a lullaby. The blonde groomed her in long, methodical strokes, brushing out her feathers, reapplying hoof oil, double-checking every detail while Grace stood still through it all, dozing a little in the rising warmth. A few onlookers walked past and stopped to stare at the mare's rich coloring, and someone even whispered that she looked like a painting.

By the time their number was called, Grace was shining like a star. Taylor finally led her towards the ring, her heart beating slow and steady. This wasn't her first inspection, not by a long shot, but it never got old: that build-up, the breath before the leap. The mare walked like a lady beside her; her head up, neck arched just slightly, her curly tail swinging with natural rhythm. They stepped into the conformation ring, and Grace squared up without being asked. Taylor gave a silent thanks to the hours of ground training that had shaped her into such a natural presenter. As always, the judges began their circuit. One man with a thick mustache knelt to examine her hooves. Another, a woman in a slate-gray coat, ran her hands along Grace's shoulder, back, and hip. "Good top line.", one of them murmured. The mare tolerated the attention with a queen's indifference, her ears staying perked, her stance rock-solid. Only once did she flick her tail, but even then more out of boredom than annoyance.

Then came the moment Taylor had rehearsed in her head since morning: the trot-up. She turned Grace towards the lane, took a breath, and gave the cue and then they set off at a light jog. The red roan's trot was beautiful: cadenced and elastic, her hooves clicking like soft applause on the packed earth while her neck arched gently, her body moving in flawless synchronization with the woman's pace... until it wasn't. Taylor didn't see the bee. Grace did. Or, rather, felt it. The moment it landed near the base of her tail, her whole body tensed like a violin string being pulled tight. One swat of her tail, then a twitch... and then a squeal before Grace bolted; kicking out once with a hind leg, tossing her head, and surging forward with a burst of momentum that nearly yanked Taylor off her feet, "WHOA - Grace!" The judges scattered. One - mustache guy - leapt sideways like a cat, nearly dropping his clipboard, and the slate-coated woman yelped as the mare's hip skimmed a little too close for comfort.

Taylor dug her heels in and called the mare's name sharply, "GRACE!" She halted, just like that: stopped cold, and looked around like she couldn't possibly understand why everyone was so worked up. The bee, presumably, had flown off in terror. The blonde's breath came hard, but she walked her back slowly, keeping her tone calm, reassuring. Grace's ears flicked, her eyes still wide with offense. "Jesus, girl-", Taylor mumbled, "It's okay. You're okay. It was just a stupid bee.", and brought her back to the starting point.

One of the judges, now flushed and clearly startled, waved a hand as he cleared his throat, "Um... try again when you're ready."

This time, Taylor whispered softly as they set off again, "Okay. Just trot, please.", and this time, Grace obeyed. Her second trot-out was every bit as perfect as the first had been, if not more so. She seemed determined to prove herself this time, her legs lifting in beautiful rhythm, every step landing with purpose, with her tail held just high enough to bounce like a flag behind her. By the time they returned, Taylor could feel the silent buzz from the sidelines. Whispers, maybe a few chuckles, but also admiration, because even with the outburst, Grace had recovered with grace (pun fully intended).

The woman then led Grace out of the arena with a gentle hand, one that trembled only slightly from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. The mare's outburst had startled everyone - Taylor included - but she couldn't help the small laugh that slipped from her lips as they crossed the grass back towards the trailer. "Gosh, you drama queen-", she muttered fondly, reaching up to scratch just behind one of Grace's impossibly fuzzy ears, "All that because of a bee?" The mare let out a satisfied snort, as though she had personally vanquished some great evil, walking with that same floaty gait she'd shown in the ring, her ears flicked back lazily, as if she hadn't nearly run over a judge twenty minutes earlier. Back at the trailer, the woman unclipped the lead and began unbuckling the leather halter slowly. A few horses nearby tossed their heads and fidgeted in their ties, but Grace stood as still as a statue, letting the blonde remove the braids from her mane and rub down the sweat marks behind her ears.

Taylor spoke softly as she worked, "You really made an impression in there. Not the impression I thought you'd make, but hey... drama's still memorable, right?" The mare swiveled an ear. "I bet they'll write something like, excellent conformation, fluid gaits, catastrophic bee incident in the notes.", she shook her head and laughed, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. Truthfully, Taylor didn’t care if the notes were a little messy. Once Grace was cooled down and tied comfortably under the shade of the trailer's awning, the blonde sat down on the edge of the tack trunk and cracked open a water bottle. She was covered in dust, sweat drying on her neck, and her boots felt like bricks, watching Grace munch hay contentedly, completely at ease now. A soft ping on her phone alerted her to a message and she pulled it from her pocket - an update from the inspection steward: preliminary feedback would be posted within the hour. She leaned back, smiling to herself, "No matter what they say, you did good." Grace turned her head slightly and blew a warm breath across Taylor's arm. "Don't let it go to your head.", she teased, "You almost flattened a judge."