Getting the Perfect Distance [ Bellarke AU ]

Oxers and Verticles

"Easy, Mist," Clarke Griffin murmured as she felt the horse's body tense beneath her. After a smooth corner, Mystique Elm spotted the second to last jump in the hunter course. It was a gaudy looking fence covered in vibrant flowers, potted plants and bright rails. This particular course designer, Mark Stanton, was more well-known for his flamboyant decorating skills than difficulty setting. Mist's ears pricked instantly and Clarke could feel her grabbing at the bit.

She gave her a firm squeeze, allowing the large dappled warmblood to gallop forwards while remaining perfectly collected. Now, all Clarke had to do was to remain relaxed and keep her hands light. She had been moving up in the jumper divisions lately, leaving the hunter classes occasionally for the timed and fast-paced courses. And even though those classes weren't judged on style and performance, Clarke still had to make the ride look effortless - like a trained monkey could hop on and win.

However, in this class, she had to do just that.

The takeoff spot was there, a perfect distance - it was staring her right in the face. Clarke clucked, urging her horse faster and closing the distance. One, two, three...

Mystique had other ideas; her anxious energy could be felt through the saddle. Her stride opened and she rushed forwards despite Clarke's steady pressure on the reins. The mare spurted past the perfect distance - the horse stubbornly refusing all cues. Damn.

Clarke had to recover and salvage what was left of the fence. She sunk down into her heels and put weight against Mist's mouth systematically, a half-halt. Normally, this was her specialty, remaining cool in the face of adversary. Making it work. Getting through the course without a horse losing its mind and revealing to the judge its flaws.

Not this time.

Mist had her own opinions. They took off way to close to the jump and chipped. Clarke grimaced, having to round her back and throw her hands forward just to stay with the mare. The jump was awkward and not even Mist's spectacular form could save the course now.

When they landed, Clarke pushed the negative thoughts from her mind hard and fast. So their shots at placing were gone, but that didn't mean that they had to humiliate themselves. Although she was competing for fifteenth place at this point, Clarke wasn't going to give up and accept less. Why come all this way if you weren't there to play?

The next fence was an airy oxer and Clarke didn't plan on having her ass wind up in the dirt. She had to be patient and patience worked for Mist. She stayed cool and collected, waiting for the distance to appear. Mist's canter stride didn't change despite the chip, and it only took the littlest of urging to coax her to the right spot. She flew over the oxer in a perfect arc, knees squared and neck rounded.

Clarke smiled.

. . .

"Nice recovery there Clarke." Thelonious Jaha said as she exited the arena and dismounted. He was leaning against the railing and studying her.

Clarke unbuckled the chin strap of her GPA helmet. "Shouldn't have happened. I know she doesn't like those colored fences."

"Okay, well next time you know you have to steady her earlier." Jaha rarely ever argued with Clarke when she was this hard on herself. He knew there was little point. His dark eyes wandered past her and towards the weather-beaten man hurrying towards them. "Let Wick take Mist back to the barn. I need you in the schooling ring at three riding Bravado - someone's coming to look at him."

"Who?"

But Jaha was already gone, sprinting off towards the other ring to teach lessons for the younger riders. How he kept himself sane was beyond Clarke. Running an entire stables and managing his own show barn was stressful at best. His son Wells, however, helped supervise the business side of things and kept the establishment from falling apart.

"Ready for me to take him, Clarke?" Wick asked, one of Jaha's best grooms.

She reached over and gave Mist a pat on the neck and a peppermint from her pocket. Mist eagerly licked the palm of her deerskin glove, leaving a trail of foamy slobber behind. Clarke then handed the reins over to the groom.

"Thanks, Wick," she said. "Don't forget to give her extra oats tonight."

"How could I forget with her reminding me all the time?" He replied, smiling.

Clarke grinned and gave Mist one last pat before her and Wick parted ways. As she passed the hunter arena, heading over towards the blue and black temporary stalls, she noticed a couple of younger junior riders from one of the bigger Vermont barns. They were leaning against the rail, unbuckled Charles Own helmets covering perfect hunter hair. They watched Clarke as walked by. She couldn't guess their names, but they probably knew hers. Everyone knew who Clarke was whether she liked it or not.

"Hi," she said politely as she passed them.

"Hey," the shorter one replied, while the taller one remained silent.

As Clarke turned the corner next to the judge's booth, she realized the laces of her boots had come undone and bent over to retie them. She was a perfectionist and all her friends knew it. In class, they playfully teased her about her organization skills and manners.

"I don't know what she's so happy about." A sarcastic voice drifted from around the corner as Clarke straightened her back. It was one of the girls she had just walked by. "If I chipped in the way she did, I'd be using some of Daddy's money to take a vacation very far away."

"Yea, especially riding a horse like Mystique Elm. I'm sure my boyfriend can ride that horse - blindfolded."

Clarke stiffened and her heart began to race, though she was careful not to express it. No matter how many times she heard the same shit, it never hurt any less. Who needs to learn how to ride when her father owns half of Washington D.C? If I could ride the horses she did, I would win all the time.

If only they only knew how fresh Mist could be on an early Saturday morning or how frisky she got after good jump. If they could only see her wrangling with one of Jaha's temperamental ponies before an afternoon lesson; perhaps they wouldn't think she bought her way to the top of the show circuit.

Clarke swallowed a lump in her throat and pushed away the bitterness. She couldn't waste her time thinking about people like that. Right now, she had a job to do.