Walking Frey forward, as we passed through the small path from the backyard to head out to the town proper, I realized that the elevation of the front porch was perfect for me to get up on Frey. Eager to get started, Frey was intelligent enough to know that he needed to stand still for me to get up onto his back. Sometimes it really paid to have a clever horse.
Once I was in place, the prancing resumed, as did the ground pawing and his nickered entreaties to gallop. I hoped Frey wouldn’t give me a hard time, adding a few bucks and rears to his routine. He wouldn’t throw me off. My seat was firm, but it wouldn’t do my hands any favors if I had to argue with a horse determined to let out a bit of his wildness.
I simmered him down with words and soft tones. He was listening. His ears were doing their flick flack of attention: forward as he took note of his surroundings and back towards me, as he attended to my words and, hopefully, the point I was trying to make.
The day was beautiful, not too hot or cold. I was wearing only a tee shirt, and it felt just right. My long pants were thick enough for good protection from the chaffing I would get if I’d worn short pants (or a dress.) I wished for a hat, but I hadn’t grabbed my riding hat when I’d escaped from the village and rushed to gather essentials at my hut. The sun on my face would burn my tender skin if I stayed exposed too long, but, Beggars can’t be selective, as Old Mother used to say. Since neither of us were beggars, I’m not sure why she harped on that. I guessed that reduced circumstances had kind of been the equivalent of beggars in her eyes.
Frey and I had hit mid-town and were walking along the street through the main section when a couple of boys dashed out, almost in front of us.
“Where’d you get that horse?” they jeered at me.
I was quite familiar with the sometime burgeoning antagonism of preteens. These two seemed well on their way to full bully status.
“He belongs to me,” I said, hoping that would suffice to make them back away, but, even though Frey, feeling the maliciousness of the two, was doing his fancy dance of I want to get away from these people, the boys continued to push their nasty act.
“Yeah? Prove it,” the smaller of the two boys said.
“Get out of the way. I don’t want my horse to run you down,” I said.
“You threatening us, little girl?” the bigger one sneered.