New Strides || Canterwood Crest || Book 19

3 ↬ three, two, one, whoah!

Atticus, a tall, sleek chestnut gelding pranced beside me, nostrils flaring. He was the same gorgeous colour as Charm, my horse back at Canterwood, but didn't have any markings.

"Whoa, boy. It's okay." I tried to calm Atticus as I tightened his girth and adjusted the stirrups before mounting. Although we hadn't even begun our ride, Atticus was already in a light sweat. Thankfully, he stood still for a few moments; enough time for me to pull myself into the saddle.

Just like I had done previously, I began to move Atticus around the ring at walk, trot, and canter. He was the exact opposite of Dunlop. Dunlop did not want to move. Atticus wanted to take off at a gallop. See what I mean?

A good majority of my ride on Atticus involved me constantly fearing for my life.

"Whoa," I said aloud to him, as we approached the final combination of our course. Lyssa had changed around the jumps while I was getting Atticus ready. He was at a near gallop, which was way too fast for the triple combo looming before us. I half-halted, trying to slow him down. With each stride, we moved closer to the jumps, Atticus pulling the reins from my grip. I sat deeper in the saddle, and pulled on the reins. If we went into the jumps with this canter, I could guarantee that we would hit the rails, or worse, crash into a jump. In one last desperate attempt to slow down, I shortened my reins and pulled harder. Three, two, one, WHOA!

It was too late.

Excited, Atticus left the ground too early, landing too close to the other side. The first rail tumbled down behind us, but there was to time to worry about that. He took the second jump erratically, hitting the black rail with his front legs. I knew that the last oxer was going down before we left the ground. Atticus took off with one leg in front of the other, and didn't lift his hind end off the ground far enough. All four rails on the oxer tumbled to the ground. I managed to turn Atticus into a circle, which forced him to slow down. Eventually, he broke to the trot, then walk.

I cautiously gave Atticus more rein as he strode towards the centre of the arena. Sweat glistened on his darkened neck. Lyssa approached us first.

"He is way too much horse for me." I panted, exhausted from the physical effort it had taken to hold Atticus back.

Lyssa nodded. "Don't take it personally. He is very hot-blooded."

Although I had only ridden two horses so far, I felt defeated as I dismounted; like I might never find the perfect horse. As if she read my mind, Lyssa put a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry Sasha. We're going to find you the right match."