~ Opalite's Inspection

The day had broken crisp and quiet, sunlight slanting through a cloud-dappled sky as Taylor pulled into the inspection grounds with her trailer in tow. After a week of mud and mist, today felt like a gift; it was dry enough to wear proper boots, cool enough for ponies to stay fresh, yet warm enough to banish the shivers of early fall. Birds flitted through the fenceposts, and in the distance, the hum of other trailers arriving could be heard through the wide, open fields. The blonde parked along the southern fence line and climbed out, brushing some crumbs from the pastry she ate a few hours ago from her lap and cracking her back with a satisfied groan. The name on the inspection sheet made her heart leap a little: Opalite. Finally it was her turn. The woman had been looking forward to this for a while now.

The trailer door creaked open, and a soft whicker greeted her. The mare's gentle eyes peeked through the open slats, pale and glimmering, ringed in long lashes, curious as always. "Good morning, showstopper." Taylor murmured, stepping inside. Opalite was already at the front of her stall, waiting calmly, her thick curls tumbling down her neck like spun glass. She was pale as moonlight; an opalescent darkish cream-and-white greying tobiano with faint greying across her neck and shoulders, like the ghost of an aurora borealis. Her tail was an extravagant waterfall of curls, and her mane had been carefully detangled and brushed into ringlets that bounced as she moved. This mare moved like she knew she was beautiful. The woman clipped the lead rope gently to her halter and backed her out, the mare stepping down with dainty precision, curling her nose toward Taylor's coat pockets.

"No treats yet, baby.", Taylor laughed, "Let's get you show-ready first." Despite her delicate appearance, Opalite was not a dainty personality. She was clever, so clever, and always curious; sniffing everything, exploring anything, and winning over even the grumpiest grooms with her quiet patience and bright-eyed joy. Today, she was positively humming with energy, but in her, it never turned to nerves. The young woman tied her to the trailer and began the finishing touches, Opalite standing patiently while the blonde ran a soft brush down her already-clean legs, wiping a bit of dust from her glossy haunches, and reapplying a curl balm to a stubborn kink of mane. A few people walked past, slowing their pace as they passed the mare.

"Wow, look at her mane.", someone whispered. It made Taylor smile. She, too, would be jealous seeing a mare like Opalite in someone's trailer but her own. Opalite flicked one ear towards the compliments but remained focused on the trailer window, peering inside like she expected breakfast to appear magically. By the time their number was eventually called, Taylor had re-braided a few small pieces of forelock with tiny silver bands, then clipped on a leather show lead. "Alright, sweetheart.", she mumbled, patting her shoulder, "Let's show them what opal looks like in motion." They walked towards the ring, the mare's steps rhythmic and proud as the curls of her mane bounced with every step, catching the light like polished silk. Her ears flicked from bird to breeze, but she never hesitated. She liked the noise, liked the people, and especially liked being seen, much like her mother, Babe.

In the conformation ring, Taylor finally halted her square, and Opalite settled like she'd practiced it all morning - which, well, in truth, she had. The mare stretched her neck ever-so-slightly forward, her nostrils flaring to take in the new scents, but otherwise stood perfectly still. The judges circled her slowly. One man crouched to examine her hooves, another took measurements, and a woman stepped up to run a hand along her spine, her shoulder, then her croup. Opalite stood like a statue, only blinking and swishing her tail now and then, turning her head to gently sniff a clipboard, causing one of the judges to chuckle. Taylor bit back a smile. "Curious, aren't you?", she murmured under her breath.

Then came the trot-up. The blonde turned her smoothly and gave the soft cue and Opalite lifted into motion like she was floating. Her trot was all grace with high, springy steps, each one light but deliberate. Her neck arched with natural carriage, and her mane lifted on the breeze like streamers at a parade. Her legs moved with such coordination that Taylor barely needed to glance at her; the rhythm was already in sync. A soft gasp came from the judges' end of the lane and one of them leaned in to murmur to another. Taylor kept her eyes forward but couldn't hide her satisfaction. On the way back, the mare once again didn't miss a beat, maintaining tempo and balance even as the breeze picked up, her tail streaming behind her like a silken banner. Back in the center, Taylor halted her cleanly, and Opalite turned her head to nuzzle Taylor's sleeve. "Good girl.", she whispered, "You nailed it."

The judge in the slate jacket gave a small nod and scribbled something into her notebook, and then came the free jump. The woman handed over the lead and moved to the far edge of the arena, where the jumps had been set; modest in height, nothing flashy, but spaced for a test of power and flexibility. Opalite stood calmly as the handlers guided her toward sthe chute. When released, she trotted a few paces, her ears pricked. The moment she spotted the first jump, her stride extended, clearing it easily, her front knees tight and her hooves slicing clean air. The second one was higher, with a ground pole set slightly back, but Opalite adjusted on her own. She lifted - a beat of stillness in the air, her curls trailing behind like ribbons - and landed with barely a sound. Then came the third, which she took like a dancer mid-leap, collecting herself beautifully, landing balanced and proud. Her tail whipped once, her eyes bright, as if to ask, Did they see that?

THe judges murmured, one of them clapped and Taylor was beaming. Opalite finally returned to the middle of the ring, her head held high. When she reached the blonde, Taylor instantly offered a treat from her pocket, which the mare accepted gently. Yes, she had earned that.