Bloodless Day

In Which stuff Happens

Life consists of moments that change you forever. Your first steps. That day in school you realized who your friends were. A quote, a book, a thought, a whisper. Yet we so rarely recognize the importance of a moment until it's too late, because we're so stuck on the past, focused on the future, that when those moments happen, the rare clarity of now amidst the fuzz of the then and when, we don't realize their importance until we're back in the fuzz.

Being with Bloodless Day was a bit like that. He was unpredictable. A fire glittered in his eyes, his hooves flint against steel shoes. He wove through shadows, spinning them into his own prison, but now I had the key. Only I could draw him from his jailed life. And free, uncornered, he embraced in everything I had to give him.

There was no time to dwell on the past. When I was with him, he steadied me in the present. And when I wasn't, I was focused on the future.

Slowly I healed.

It was a week after our breakdown. 454 days since It happened, but also 8 days since Her birthday and an entirely unexpected It. Bloodless Day still threw his tantrums, twisting and rearing. A groom suffered a fractured wrist and his breakable leather halter was replaced with stiff, cheap, non-stretchy nylon, which he promptly tore. Derek threatened to sell him. Lilac still ignored me in class.

Yet in secret I continued working the stallion.

He was getting better at leading. We could make it all the way to his pasture without a tantrum, and he was amiable about turning as long as I didn't tug- the rope had to be loose, but he got irritated if it was loose enough to swing.

There were other little things about him that were unexplainable. If I wanted to pick his feet, I had to do his back hooves first. Then his front. He couldn't tolerate any brush except for the soft face brush, and his favorite scratchy place was midway up his neck on the left side.

Oh, and if I entered his stall smelling like another horse, that would be the end of life as I knew it.

Saturday morning I rushed through my chores, scrubbing water buckets and grooming my charges. My Girl needed work on leading- she learned fast, but I taught slowly- and Holiday Break developed an abscess that I needed to soak. It was a busy day, and yet I finished before the sun reached its zenith. Eager to get to work with Bloodless Day, I washed my hands of any scent of other horses and took off my sweatshirt, which smelled of Shamrock and My Girl and Epsom salts.

BD sniffed me suspiciously as I entered the stall, then accepted the halter in approval. I led him from the stable, angling towards that fateful paddock. Doing some research during the school week, I'd discovered something called join up. It sounded a lot like what had happened last week, and I was curious to see if I could replicate the results.

As soon as I let the stallion's halter slip from his face, he was off, cantering around the paddock. Muscles rippled under a newly clipped coat, and his recently pulled mane flopped softly against his neck, both results of several hours, a bloody nose, and bribery involving an itchy neck and copious amounts of carrots. It was easy to see why the grooms had let his appearance deteriorate into the shaggy, unkempt creature he had been.

Had.

Now he turned into me, ears pricked and steps confident. I shook my lead rope at him. "No! Go on!"

Confused, Bloodless Day flicked his ears and paused. As I shook the rope again though, he got the hint, turning and running off. But somehow his turn was in the motion of running, rather than a turn to run. Everything he did was seamless, easy. He'd be an amazing athlete.

Will be, I corrected myself.

Tirelessly the stallion loped on, one ear turned towards me after a lap. I watched closely, but he didn't try slowing again. After five minutes, his head dropped. Both of these were signs of join-up. There was one more sign, but I suddenly could not remember it, so I took a step back and turned away from Bloodless Day.