HOME | DD

Description
Nothing is as sacred as the bond between a horse and a rider.
No other creature can become so emotionally close to a human as a
horse.
When a horse dies, the memory lives on because and enormous
amount of his owner's heart, soul, and their very existance dies also.

- Stephanie M. Thorn

Just a picture I did of Kalib and Blackbird as they go up to the mountains to see the full moon.

It was dark and cold. Kalib’s bare feet smacking on the cold tarmac as he jogged up the path from his house, towards the main barn. The time was just past midnight, and an eerie silver glow made the fields and mountains look like they’d been covered with a thin, slightly transparent, silver sheet.
Kalib sighed, pulling himself up at the gate and tugging on his riding boots and chaps, and regretting not donning a jacket before he left.
The moon was full that night, as it was every month, and, as a routine, Kalib was about to take his stallion, Blackbird, out for a ride in the mountains.

Black was standing tall and proud, as he did every time the silver glow poured in through the window in his stall and illuminated the familiar photo taken when he and Kalib were competing at dressage. The stallion’s neck and head were flecked with the sweat of his anticipation and he let out a shrill whinny as he heard the barn doors being pried open.
“Black,” Kalib whispered, just loud enough for the great horse to hear, and Black’s ears pricked and he nickered a reply, just as his master came up to him and rubbed his crown. “It’s the full moon,” he remarked with a smirk, and Blackbird gave a little squeal of recognition, his ears pinned forward. “Alright, boy,” Kalib said softly, taking three paces to the side and grabbing the small rope halter from the hook. He slipped it on the stallion’s head gently, before opening the doors and leading Black out into the gangway, clipping on a pair of make-shift reins as he went.
Blackbird squealed again and rose into a half-rear for a second, before trotting on the spot as Kalib swung himself effortlessly onto his back. “Calm down,” he hushed, dropping his weight down into the groove on Blackbird’s back, and the stallion obeyed his training instantly and hushed into obedience.

They first walked, and then trotted down the track from the barn, towards the track that led up into the mountains.
Black was quiet, as he was whenever he was ridden, but he was excited, and it was easy to see as he jumped on his hooves every time he took a faster step and his head was high and arched.
The moon was brighter as they climbed higher over the rocks and hills, up until all around them were thousand-foot drops off the side of a cliff, and you could barely walk a hundred yards straight since the earth was so uneven. Both Kalib and Black had their heads raised to the bright silver orb, and both were no less fascinated by it.

It was near two hours later that the mountains turned into plateaus, and grass stretched out hundreds of yards in every direction, and above the man and his horse were only rocky tors of stone.
They broken into a gallop as they turned off a path and up to a grassy stretch.
Black kicked into a full-throttle run, his head bowed and then stretched out, his hooves drumming rhythmically as he sprinted for the sheer exhilaration and Kalib grasped the reins and his mane and was made suddenly aware of his lack of a saddle, since the stallion’s back was slick with sweat.
Blackbird whinnied out, flicking his marvellous black and silver tail up in the moonlight and he neighed as loud as his lungs would allow him.
”WA-HOO!!” Kalib whooped, throwing a fist in the air and grinning as wide as he could.
It was in these moments with his one true best friend, that he felt true, complete, and utter happiness.

Art + Beaumont Stables ©: =Baringa-of-the-Wind

I do not appreciate critique unless I request it!
Please keep your own opinions to yourself unless I ask for it - I will not be happy to hear you bashing my work.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's forbidden to copy, transmit, distribute, display, reproduce, sell, heavily reference, claim, trace, reuse, license or anything else, without my written permission, capiche? All rights are reserved!

Description
Nothing is as sacred as the bond between a horse and a rider.
No other creature can become so emotionally close to a human as a
horse.
When a horse dies, the memory lives on because and enormous
amount of his owner's heart, soul, and their very existance dies also.

- Stephanie M. Thorn

Just a picture I did of Kalib and Blackbird as they go up to the mountains to see the full moon.

It was dark and cold. Kalib’s bare feet smacking on the cold tarmac as he jogged up the path from his house, towards the main barn. The time was just past midnight, and an eerie silver glow made the fields and mountains look like they’d been covered with a thin, slightly transparent, silver sheet.
Kalib sighed, pulling himself up at the gate and tugging on his riding boots and chaps, and regretting not donning a jacket before he left.
The moon was full that night, as it was every month, and, as a routine, Kalib was about to take his stallion, Blackbird, out for a ride in the mountains.

Black was standing tall and proud, as he did every time the silver glow poured in through the window in his stall and illuminated the familiar photo taken when he and Kalib were competing at dressage. The stallion’s neck and head were flecked with the sweat of his anticipation and he let out a shrill whinny as he heard the barn doors being pried open.
“Black,” Kalib whispered, just loud enough for the great horse to hear, and Black’s ears pricked and he nickered a reply, just as his master came up to him and rubbed his crown. “It’s the full moon,” he remarked with a smirk, and Blackbird gave a little squeal of recognition, his ears pinned forward. “Alright, boy,” Kalib said softly, taking three paces to the side and grabbing the small rope halter from the hook. He slipped it on the stallion’s head gently, before opening the doors and leading Black out into the gangway, clipping on a pair of make-shift reins as he went.
Blackbird squealed again and rose into a half-rear for a second, before trotting on the spot as Kalib swung himself effortlessly onto his back. “Calm down,” he hushed, dropping his weight down into the groove on Blackbird’s back, and the stallion obeyed his training instantly and hushed into obedience.

They first walked, and then trotted down the track from the barn, towards the track that led up into the mountains.
Black was quiet, as he was whenever he was ridden, but he was excited, and it was easy to see as he jumped on his hooves every time he took a faster step and his head was high and arched.
The moon was brighter as they climbed higher over the rocks and hills, up until all around them were thousand-foot drops off the side of a cliff, and you could barely walk a hundred yards straight since the earth was so uneven. Both Kalib and Black had their heads raised to the bright silver orb, and both were no less fascinated by it.

It was near two hours later that the mountains turned into plateaus, and grass stretched out hundreds of yards in every direction, and above the man and his horse were only rocky tors of stone.
They broken into a gallop as they turned off a path and up to a grassy stretch.
Black kicked into a full-throttle run, his head bowed and then stretched out, his hooves drumming rhythmically as he sprinted for the sheer exhilaration and Kalib grasped the reins and his mane and was made suddenly aware of his lack of a saddle, since the stallion’s back was slick with sweat.
Blackbird whinnied out, flicking his marvellous black and silver tail up in the moonlight and he neighed as loud as his lungs would allow him.
”WA-HOO!!” Kalib whooped, throwing a fist in the air and grinning as wide as he could.
It was in these moments with his one true best friend, that he felt true, complete, and utter happiness.

Art + Beaumont Stables ©: =Baringa-of-the-Wind

I do not appreciate critique unless I request it!
Please keep your own opinions to yourself unless I ask for it - I will not be happy to hear you bashing my work.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's forbidden to copy, transmit, distribute, display, reproduce, sell, heavily reference, claim, trace, reuse, license or anything else, without my written permission, capiche? All rights are reserved!