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Description

#070-A
Rider’s Name: Chris Davies
Horse’s Name: CS Angel Dust (Dusty)

Dog's Name: Sunshine (Sunny)
Stable's Location: Glenorchy, New Zealand

Tribe: Raccoon

1) Souvenir Photo

2) Location, Location, Location

3) Teepee Troubles

Chris stared down at the jumble of sticks and cloth at his feet, ignoring the light pattering of rain against his head and shoulders. What the hell was this? I mean yeah, he'd gone camping before -- loads of times actually -- and he'd pitched many a stubborn tent. He'd even done it completely off his arse drunk more times than he cared to consider (seven times. Uni had been fun. Accountants were surprisingly rambunctious party pals) But this? This was sticks and paper! How was this a tent?

"How hard could this possibly be?" Chris asked Sunny, who was laying on her belly in the grass, head between her paws as she stared at the occasionally rustling teepee cover, daring it to make the first move. She whimpered a bit and her tail swished back and forth once before going completely, unblinkingly still once more.

He glanced around at his fellow tribesmen. Several of them were well on their way to setting up camp, with their sticks all in a cluster on top, and the more capable of them were just starting to move on to painting. "Hey, let's do that," he told Sunny, who wiggled her tail once more and let out a playful whining growl. The bloke a few plots ahead of him seemed to have this whole exercise down. Or maybe it just seemed that way when he compared the other's semi-erect steeple to his own bunch of forlorn pick up sticks.

Chris tried to do what the other did, mimicking the way his sticks protruded at angle, all bunching up against each other in the middle-- but alas, gravity was not a forgiving mistress and his teepee was just not meant to be, it decided as it came tumbling back down before he managed to have even two sticks set up.

"I've gotta be doing this wrong," he mused to himself as Sunny finally pounced on a pole and started chewing on it. "Sunny, leave it be! We've gotta live in that," he told her, but all he got in response was an innocent look of insistence: 'who, me?' it asked as Sunny gnawed contentedly at the stick.

"Okay, okay, enough, stop it," he told her, shew-ing her away with his moccasin clad foot and sending her scrambling across the grass towards the fence. He scratched his head contemplatively before picking up two sticks at once and trying to balance them off each other. For one glorious moment, the he had the beginnings of a teepee - and then all his hopes came crashing down with the poles. "This is hopeless," he told himself, catching a flaxen figure meandering over the grass beside him. He looked over at the chestnut mare and frowned. "Didn't I leave you in a pasture somewhere?" he asked her. Dusty only looked at him, as though saying 'I have absolutely NO idea what you're talking about,' before returning to her ever so arduous grazing. "You're a buncha wise guys, you know that?" he told the girls, receiving no acknowledgement from either. "Back to the tent then," he muttered to himself, staring down at his stick pile as though if he tried hard enough, he could activate his latent Jedi powers and assemble it very impressively with the force. Nothing happened.

What now? He decided it might be best to try copying someone in front of him, and it was ten minutes (and a partially erect teepee later) that he realised... they had instructions. They had instructions?! Why didn't he have instructions?! He glanced over at a girl a few plots away, who was pulling out her paints and staring admiringly at her completed work. Chris skipped over to her, leaping the fence that blocked in his own plot and knelt down to pick up a large piece of paper with several diagrams on it. "Hey, can I borrow this?" he asked her, examining the pictures and the short lines of instruction.

She nodded distractedly at him as she dipped her brush into some bright green paint. "Sure! I'm done with it," she replied, tracing the beginnings of a tree onto her house.

"Awesome, thanks," Chris replied, folding up the paper and giving her a wave. "I owe you one!"

He turned and trotted back to his own plot; a splash of bright blue caught his eye and his face dropped. "Oh no," he muttered to himself. "No guys! No!" He leapt over the fence once again as his eyes took in the horror of the scene in front of him. Dusty's tail was dripping with bright yellow paint, her hooves coated in blue as, leaving flicking swish markings on his partially assembled tent. Sunny's feet were covered in red paint, which had spilled all over the grass, and carried on in little paw prints over the side of the canvas. Chris groaned. "Guys!" he exclaimed exasperatedly. "Wait a minute -- Sunny DON'T EAT THE STICK!" he shouted, hurling himself at the Alsatian. He yanked the stick, but Sunny held fast, growling and wagging her tail as though they were playing tug-of-war.

"Sunny, leave it!" Chris instructed, and with a whine she let the tent pole drop. Chris straightened and took in a deep breath. "Don't. Touch. ANYTHING," he told them both, leaning the pole against his shoulder as he carried it back toward his 'artistically decorated' teepee.

Sunny... I could not... she looks like.... T-T Pretend she looks like an Alsatian and not like a demented Aussie Cattle Dog. Also I changed Chris' hoody! Because I have NO idea what the other one was! xD AND I forgot everyone's feathers. Let's just say they got blown out by the wind.

Description

#070-A
Rider’s Name: Chris Davies
Horse’s Name: CS Angel Dust (Dusty)

Dog's Name: Sunshine (Sunny)
Stable's Location: Glenorchy, New Zealand

Tribe: Raccoon

1) Souvenir Photo

2) Location, Location, Location

3) Teepee Troubles

Chris stared down at the jumble of sticks and cloth at his feet, ignoring the light pattering of rain against his head and shoulders. What the hell was this? I mean yeah, he'd gone camping before -- loads of times actually -- and he'd pitched many a stubborn tent. He'd even done it completely off his arse drunk more times than he cared to consider (seven times. Uni had been fun. Accountants were surprisingly rambunctious party pals) But this? This was sticks and paper! How was this a tent?

"How hard could this possibly be?" Chris asked Sunny, who was laying on her belly in the grass, head between her paws as she stared at the occasionally rustling teepee cover, daring it to make the first move. She whimpered a bit and her tail swished back and forth once before going completely, unblinkingly still once more.

He glanced around at his fellow tribesmen. Several of them were well on their way to setting up camp, with their sticks all in a cluster on top, and the more capable of them were just starting to move on to painting. "Hey, let's do that," he told Sunny, who wiggled her tail once more and let out a playful whining growl. The bloke a few plots ahead of him seemed to have this whole exercise down. Or maybe it just seemed that way when he compared the other's semi-erect steeple to his own bunch of forlorn pick up sticks.

Chris tried to do what the other did, mimicking the way his sticks protruded at angle, all bunching up against each other in the middle-- but alas, gravity was not a forgiving mistress and his teepee was just not meant to be, it decided as it came tumbling back down before he managed to have even two sticks set up.

"I've gotta be doing this wrong," he mused to himself as Sunny finally pounced on a pole and started chewing on it. "Sunny, leave it be! We've gotta live in that," he told her, but all he got in response was an innocent look of insistence: 'who, me?' it asked as Sunny gnawed contentedly at the stick.

"Okay, okay, enough, stop it," he told her, shew-ing her away with his moccasin clad foot and sending her scrambling across the grass towards the fence. He scratched his head contemplatively before picking up two sticks at once and trying to balance them off each other. For one glorious moment, the he had the beginnings of a teepee - and then all his hopes came crashing down with the poles. "This is hopeless," he told himself, catching a flaxen figure meandering over the grass beside him. He looked over at the chestnut mare and frowned. "Didn't I leave you in a pasture somewhere?" he asked her. Dusty only looked at him, as though saying 'I have absolutely NO idea what you're talking about,' before returning to her ever so arduous grazing. "You're a buncha wise guys, you know that?" he told the girls, receiving no acknowledgement from either. "Back to the tent then," he muttered to himself, staring down at his stick pile as though if he tried hard enough, he could activate his latent Jedi powers and assemble it very impressively with the force. Nothing happened.

What now? He decided it might be best to try copying someone in front of him, and it was ten minutes (and a partially erect teepee later) that he realised... they had instructions. They had instructions?! Why didn't he have instructions?! He glanced over at a girl a few plots away, who was pulling out her paints and staring admiringly at her completed work. Chris skipped over to her, leaping the fence that blocked in his own plot and knelt down to pick up a large piece of paper with several diagrams on it. "Hey, can I borrow this?" he asked her, examining the pictures and the short lines of instruction.

She nodded distractedly at him as she dipped her brush into some bright green paint. "Sure! I'm done with it," she replied, tracing the beginnings of a tree onto her house.

"Awesome, thanks," Chris replied, folding up the paper and giving her a wave. "I owe you one!"

He turned and trotted back to his own plot; a splash of bright blue caught his eye and his face dropped. "Oh no," he muttered to himself. "No guys! No!" He leapt over the fence once again as his eyes took in the horror of the scene in front of him. Dusty's tail was dripping with bright yellow paint, her hooves coated in blue as, leaving flicking swish markings on his partially assembled tent. Sunny's feet were covered in red paint, which had spilled all over the grass, and carried on in little paw prints over the side of the canvas. Chris groaned. "Guys!" he exclaimed exasperatedly. "Wait a minute -- Sunny DON'T EAT THE STICK!" he shouted, hurling himself at the Alsatian. He yanked the stick, but Sunny held fast, growling and wagging her tail as though they were playing tug-of-war.

"Sunny, leave it!" Chris instructed, and with a whine she let the tent pole drop. Chris straightened and took in a deep breath. "Don't. Touch. ANYTHING," he told them both, leaning the pole against his shoulder as he carried it back toward his 'artistically decorated' teepee.

Sunny... I could not... she looks like.... T-T Pretend she looks like an Alsatian and not like a demented Aussie Cattle Dog. Also I changed Chris' hoody! Because I have NO idea what the other one was! xD AND I forgot everyone's feathers. Let's just say they got blown out by the wind.