Horses

They were on the summit of the hill as if poised in a portrait. The breeze ruffling the stud's forelock and mane as he arched his head responding to the reins he moved on as his rider leant forward and rubbed his poll in affection. Tensed up his withers quivering he sprang into action careening down the slope pulling up lame. His rider dismounted and ran his hand down his legs finding some heat in the fetlock. Lifting his leg he found the cause a stone lodged in his frog, using his hoof pick he dislodged it thanking his lucky stars that it was not a pulled stifle. Checking his hind legs for heat in the hocks and gaskin he found all to be well. He patted his croup in affection and re-examined the front leg still a little heat but his coronet seemed fine. A week's rest should put him right allowing the bruised frog time to heal. It would be tight to keep him fit for their big show in three weeks time but a strained stifle would have put him out of action for at least six weeks. On foot he lead Silver back to the stables and there applied a poultice to his hoof which he would change daily until the frog recovered, leaving Silver munching happily on hay. He walked into the tack room and replaced his tack and stood admiring the rows of rosettes that lined the walls.. The upcoming show would give him the final proof of how superb he was and then people would flock to bring their mares to him and his line would be perpetuated long into the future.