Post by Sarah Brightman on Mar 29, 2009 14:57:02 GMT -5
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Sarah pulled her dark metallic blue Range Rover up the gravel pathway of the barn, a silver two-horse slant-load in tow. She parked the SUV and turned the engine off, getting out. Clad in jeans and a black t-shirt, her long brown hair wrung back in a messy bun with sunglasses shielding her grey-blue eyes, Sarah went around to the back of the trailer to open it. She heard pawing; or more so the clang of a hoof against the aluminum wall of the trailer, and she had no doubt that it was Aamira.
"Quit that," Sarah growled at the two-year-old warningly as she hurried to get the door open. Her two Arabs were side-by-side. Aamira had been the closest to the door so she was the last to load and she'd be the first one out. Chromaggia, affectionately known as Mag, Sarah's black Arab mare, was on the far side, watching patiently over the divider. Aamira, the chestnut filly, had seen the door open and was now staring with wide brown eyes and childlike curiousity through a thick mass off forelock.
"I know, Lovey, we're here," Sarah crooned, pulling the leadrope through the ring it was looped through, faking the filly out that it was tied, but was a safety precaution if incase Aamira decided to pull back. She wouldn't take the whole wall with her. Sarah backed her out of the trailer, watching as Aamira tiptoed daintily backwards off the foot-high drop onto the ground from the trailer. Sarah knew she could leave Mag in there for an extra two minutes while she stuck Aamira in the stall she was assigned, then get Mag. The black mare, as moody as she could be, was relatively patient.
Digging the piece of paper out of her back pocket that she had scrawled notes on where the barn was, and where her horses were going to be kept, Sarah led Aamira to the directed area and into one of the two stalls that neighbored each other. Once Aamira was in, Sarah went to get Mag.