Rosier in the roses
Evan's footsteps were heavy with reluctance as he trailed behind Alexi, flanked by Barty, toward the imposing structure of the big stables. There was an undeniable air of resistance that clung to him, a sentiment he knew was shared silently among his peers. They had been corralled into this experience by their parents under the guise of enhancing their horsemanship – a thinly veiled attempt at shaping them into their version of ideal heirs. And of course, there was Sirius, whose presence only amplified Evan's discomfort. The longing for his own horse, Bastien – an absurd name he hadn't chosen – gnawed at him.
As they halted in front of a stable, Evan’s gaze lifted, momentarily captivated by the horse within. Its majestic presence was undeniable. His eyes drifted to the nameplate, revealing a lineage that spoke of prestige – a direct descendant of Jazz, the renowned Dutch Warmblood stallion. The revelation stirred a mix of respect and apprehension within him.
“This one is yours,” Alexi announced, handing Barty a halter. Barty’s discomfort was palpable, his usual confidence faltering at the mention of the horse’s esteemed heritage. Evan knew too well that behind Barty’s bravado lay a cautiousness, born from past falls and injuries. The fiery temperament of Jazz’s descendants was well-known in equestrian circles, a trait that demanded both skill and nerve.
Alexi's response was characteristically blunt. "You can switch after the first ride if you don't get along with him. If you've got a big mouth, you need to have the balls to match it, dumpster diver." Her words, sharp as they were, carried a strange undercurrent of respect, a challenge rather than a dismissal. To Evan's surprise, she gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, an unexpected gesture that momentarily bridged the gap between them.
The horse leaned over the stable door, nudging Barty in a friendly gesture that belied its reputed intensity. "He's very friendly in the stable and he should be manageable under the saddle. James' parents wouldn't allow him in the camps if he wasn't," Alexi added, her voice carrying back to them as she walked away.
Barty grimaced, sharing a look with Evan that spoke volumes. In that brief exchange, Evan felt a flicker of solidarity. Despite their differing facades, there was an underlying understanding between them – a shared experience of being thrust into situations beyond their control, shaped by expectations and legacies they didn’t always embrace.
Evan followed Alexi to meet his own horse, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He was here under duress, yet part of him wondered if there was something to be gained from this experience. Beneath his exterior of indifference and occasional arrogance, Evan was searching, albeit reluctantly, for a path that was truly his own, one that might diverge from the rigid expectations set by his father.
Evan's journey to the stable housing his assigned horse, Scar, was a contemplative one. His thoughts were a muddled mix of reluctance and curiosity, shadowed by the pressures of his family's expectations. As Alexi paused in front of a stable, she introduced Scar, a gelding whose most striking feature was an unmistakable scar. “This is Scar. He's yours,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of empathy.
Evan’s eyes met the curious gaze of the gelding, its ears perking up in interest. The origin of the horse’s name was self-evident – a prominent scar ran across its coat, a reminder of a past trauma. “He fell into a fence with barbed wire when he was a foal,” Alexi explained, responding to the unspoken question in Evan’s eyes. Touching the scar gently, Evan felt a momentary connection, a shared understanding of bearing visible and invisible scars.
As Alexi spoke of the camp’s resources, Evan's attention was only partly with her, his thoughts veering off course. His gaze drifted to where she was now talking with two middle-aged people. The familial resemblance to James was striking. Observing their warm interaction, Evan felt an unexpected pang – not quite envy, but a subtle recognition of something he lacked in his own life.
Observing Alexi's relaxed demeanor with them, a contrast to her more guarded interactions with him, Evan couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. Her humor and directness, traits that reminded him faintly of Barty and even Sirius, intrigued him in a way he couldn’t quite define.
Yet, as he watched her interact with ease, a subtle realization dawned on him. There was something about Alexi that challenged his usual perceptions, something refreshingly unpretentious. It was a quality he quietly admired, even if he wasn't fully ready to acknowledge the depth of this interest.
About forty-five minutes later, Evan walked alongside Scar, feeling the rhythm of the gelding's steps syncing with his own. They approached the arena, pausing behind Regulus, who was mounted on a stunning palomino. Evan waited patiently for his turn, his thoughts interrupted by the sound of hooves from behind. Turning, he saw Barty, tension etched on his face, beside the imposing figure of T-rex.
"You'll survive," Evan remarked, trying to offer some reassurance amidst the mounting tension.
Barty managed a nervous chuckle, his attempt at humor a thin veil over his anxiety. "Just make sure my funeral isn’t boring. If my dad has his way, it’ll be a snooze fest. I want a Kahoot about who knew me best."
Evan's response was cut short as Scar decided Evan's shoulder was the perfect scratching post. The sudden, rough movement caught Evan off-balance, and before he knew it, he was tumbling into the rose bushes beside the arena. Barty's laughter rang out, unrestrained and filled with genuine amusement.
Even Regulus, usually more reserved, couldn't hide a small smirk at the sight. "Imagine falling into the bush your lastname is named after," he commented dryly, clearly pleased with his own wit.
Struggling to regain his composure, Evan was about to retort when James stepped in, offering a hand to help him up. Meanwhile, Barty was still reveling in the moment, his laughter echoing around them.
"Oh, Rosier in the roses, that's golden!" Barty exclaimed, his grin wide as he savored the humor in the situation.
Evan, brushing off petals and leaves, couldn't help but join in the laughter, despite the embarrassment. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him, and he acknowledged it with a good-natured shake of his head.
As the group assembled, each rider and their horse added a unique touch to the scene. Evan, astride his tall bay gelding, looked focused and composed. Barty, on his imposing black gelding, appeared slightly tense but determined. Regulus, riding the beautiful golden palomino mare, seemed at ease, a natural fit. Sirius, humorously mismatched on a short, fat, coldblooded liver chestnut pony, couldn’t suppress a grin. Mary, elegant atop her dark bay mare, radiated calm confidence. Lily, on a mischievous-looking chestnut pony, appeared both excited and slightly wary. Peter, comfortably seated in his carriage pulled by two relaxed Haflingers, seemed content. James, commanding and poised on a majestic Friesian gelding with a flowing mane, took the lead. Alexi, striking on her bay pinto horse with one arresting blue eye, watched over the group with an experienced eye.
James instructed everyone to maintain their assigned order and focus on staying in the saddle. He shared a quiet word with Alexi, then gently nudged his horse forward. "I'll lead; Alexi will bring up the rear. Call for whoever's nearest if you need help," he announced.
The riders fell into line. Barty, with his commanding T-rex, followed James. Mary guided Amira into place behind Barty. The order continued with Sirius, Regulus, Lily, Evan, Peter, and finally Alexi falling in line.
"Ready?" James called out.
"Just a second," Alexi replied, her attention drawn by another set of hooves. "You forgot about Remus."
A tall young man on a grey horse rode into the arena, playfully nudging Alexi’s shoulder, nearly toppling her. "Oi, I thought you were joining us later this week?" James greeted with a wide smile.
"Surprise," Remus replied, his voice light with laughter. "Let's not wait for the grass to grow."
With that, James set off, and the procession followed. Alexi and Remus, chatting like old friends, brought up the rear. Remus, bearing noticeable scars, seemed at ease with Alexi, their conversation flowing effortlessly. The group, a diverse array of riders and horses, moved as one, embarking on their ride with a mix of excitement, apprehension, and camaraderie.