[Flashback] Reining In Trouble

[Hilana]

Fall, 492 AV

Ekytol never really cooled down. It never would. It was always a blazing desert. In the hottest days, the tents of Lebaoth traveled under Leth, seeking refuge from the blistering passion that Syna had to offer. Under the moon and stars, the Benshira could still see, and the relatively colder temperatures made it easier for all involved. Lebaoth was a merchant, after all, and being one meant travel. Rather than leave his family alone in Yahebah he simply moved them all with him.

Hilana was five, and hadn’t seemed to have left the terrible twos. Putting her in skirts and shawls left Sarala chasing a naked little monkey around while scooping up the extra garments from the sand, trying to redress her, and repeating the experience. So Hilana, or little Lana, as they called her, was dressed in clothes one would expect on a boy – dark pants tucked into soft boots, and a bright orange-gold shirt. Her long hair was tied into two thick with old ribbons Sarala had managed to convince Namah to let go of in exchange for new ones from her father. Hilana had been offered new ones in exchange for giving Namah back her old ones, but the child hadn’t taken the bait, and was happy with the faded and frayed adornments. Motherhood, Sarala found, was a balancing act at the best of times.

They had arrived the night before, setting up camp. Sarala watched the girl sleep in the morning light, and reflected on her sister’s youngest true child – that monstrosity that had come from her, and that had been the death of her, did not count. The only time the girl behaved, Sarala reflected, was if she was sleeping or if she was being bribed into it. The rest of the time, she ran wild. She was like a scourge from on high, especially compared to her elder sisters. The woman had spent much time in prayer to Yahal, seeking a solution to dealing with the devil-child. The less boundaries she made on her, the more wild she became. The more she tried to control her, the more she fought. If they tried to bind her, she fought every step of the way. She didn’t know if it was because of her lack of a mother, or something else, but Hilana was very, very different from even Athalia, the closest to her in age.

The peace of the morning was shattered, though, when Hilana was up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and zooming about to discover where they had set up, now alive with activity and the sun’s light. A few snatched bites of breakfast, despite entreaties from Sarala and Namah to sit down and eat found the girl racing off to explore. Lebaoth only shook his head, and looked to see where the wildling had gone - apparently off to follow the herders who looked after the flocks. Namah let out a rather unladylike sound into her tea. “At least she’ll be with her own kind.” At a look from her father, she hastened to elaborate, “The animals.”

[Hilana]

The little girl had indeed hurried after the herding boy as he ushered goats along, a pony following at its own pace. She called out a melodious Benshira greeting in the old tongue, practically singing it, the way that it was supposed to sound. The boy turned, squinting at the little girl. He definitely hadn’t seen her before, but the merchants had arrived last night. Perhaps she was with them. He returned the greeting, and slowed his own steps as to allow her to catch up. He didn’t have long to wait – the child was fast. “What’s your name?” she asked curiously, looking up at him.

“Yasim,” he told her, “of the tents of Taris, of the sons of Hirem. And yours?”

“Hilana, of the tents of Lebaoth, of the sons of Basalom,” she told him. “Where you going?”

“Herding,” he inclined his head towards the goats. “Can’t leave them to wander, can we? Want to come along, little Lana?” Yasim could tell she was going to tag along regardless of whether he said she could or not, to judge by the looks of her, so might as well make it easier on himself. She bobbed her head happily, and sent an apprehensive look at the pony. He followed her gaze as they walked along, following the herd. “That’s Old Malka,” he told the girl. “Mountain pony from out there,” he waved his hand in the direction of the western coast. Hilana nodded, and hesitantly touched the pony’s gleaming, copper-colored side. “Go on, she’s as friendly as anything,” the lad encouraged her. “The biggest pet you’ll ever meet, too.” As if she knew she was being talked about, the pony bobbed her head. Hilana giggled, and continued to touch the horse’s side.

“Give her a little more than that,” Yasim coached. “You know anything about horses?” the girl removed her hand and fidgeted a little.

“No,” she admitted. “They say ‘m too small.”

Yasim laughed. “You’re never too small to learn about horses. First of all, you need to pet her more. Just touching her like that, that tickles, and they’ll swish you away. Pet her harder, put a bit more force into it,” he demonstrated for Hilana’s benefit, rubbing the mare’s shoulder. “See? Like that. You try it.” The girl did so, rubbing her palm and fingers harder against the mare’s shoulder. “There you go,” he told her with an approving grin. “Horses can feel a fly on any part of their body. Trust me, you couldn’t hurt this pony if you tried,” he assured her.

Hilana nodded. Much to Yasim and the other herders’ amusement, the little girl was soon following the fat little pony around like a duckling, stroking and petting her and working her little fingers through her coarse black mane. “Horses and ponies,” Yasim told the girl as he settled under the tree while Malka grazed, Hilana at her side, “are measured in hands. A hand is about so big… four inches,” he showed her with his hand. “We measure from here to here,” he pointed at the hoof and touched the top of pony’s withers. “Want to guess how tall she is?”

“Bigger than me,” the girl told him.

Yasim laughed. “Malka is about 12 hands high – she’s a little small, but not too small for one of these ponies. You can find even smaller ones, out east,” he told her. Hilana nodded. But Malka was a very pretty pony.

[Hilana]

“This is a halter,” Yasim told the girl, helding out a length of rope that had been knotted and in what was to Lana a strange fashion. “We use this to help lead a horse,” he explained to her. Hilana took the halter, twisting it this way and that.

“Oh!” she brightened. “On their nose!” she went around to Malka’s front, still clutching the faded rope. It had been dyed red, once, but now was a pale pink. The old mare was contentedly munching at grass, and Hilana crouched down. “How does it go on?” There were too many openings!

“Like this,” he took it from her. “Hold it like this, see? With this end up this way, and the knot over here,” he gave it back to her, having righted it. “Now, what you’re going to do is slide this part over her nose. This is the nose band. This part goes under her muzzle… yes, like that,” he helped guide her hands. The pony waited, head low enough that the little girl wasn’t on tip-toe yet. “These ends here come up… yes, pull that up a little more… good…” he adjusted the noseband so that it was a little further up and behind her ears. Malka, move your head down, would you, lady?” He winked at Hilana. “She is a sweetheart, really, and responds well if you ask her nicely.”

“Now, this goes around behind her ears. See why we pull this loop up?” he showed her. “It keeps it from falling off her nose or getting into her mouth. That way it won’t bother her,” he helped her adjust the loop so that the band was higher up on the nose. “And then these ends go through here…” he pointed it out to her, and Hilana did her best, as Malka waited patiently. “Good, good. Now, we’ll just get it a little snug…” he checked it. “Not too tight. She won’t like that. Ah, there we go. This goes through here… and back. Tie it. There we go. One halter, tied. Well done, Hilana,” he smiled down at her while the girl twisted and spun on the spot, doing a little shimmy.

[Hilana]

“Now, we’re not done yet. We’ll take the rope and clip it to this loop down here… right here. There you go,” he grinned at her. “This is our lead rope. We use this to show them where we want them to go, right?” Hilana nodded solemnly.

“With the camels,” she told him.

“Yes, with your camels,” he agreed. “You can lead a pony… or a horse… but we’ll go with pony in this case because that’s what Malka is. You can lead a pony on foot, or if you’re riding and leading another, that’s okay, too. If you link multiple animals together, it’s called stringing,” Yasim knew he was likely going beyond the girl’s ability to understand, or remember, but hey, it couldn’t hurt to tell her about this – it would be making sense of and giving names to things she had already seen done.

“So what you’re going to do now, is hold onto the lead rope, and ask her to follow you. Remember, Lana, every pony is different. Some you can ask, like Malka, and some you need to tell, because they’re as stubborn as rocks and won’t do it otherwise. Those ones, they like to think that they’re the boss, and you need to show them otherwise. That’s part of herd behaviour,” he handed her the lead rope. “We’ll go check the goats while you lead Malka. I think she’s ready for a bit of exercise,” he patted the pony’s rump affectionately.

“Herd behaviour?” Hilana looked up at him as she held the rope with both hands and followed Yasim. Malka followed the girl, good-naturedly, taking the time to huff at her hair. The girl let out a giggle, and paused. Malka stopped, too, and the two were face-to-face, breathing in each other’s scent.

“Well, you’ve already got that part down,” he grinned at her. “Ponies greet others that way. But ponies and horses, they like to be in groups, herds, right? Like us Benshira – we like to be with our people and our family. So do ponies. But ponies, they’re all different from each other, right? Some like to be in charge, some are okay with that, and some just want everyone to get along. That’s how a herd works. The herd boss decides what happens, and the others do what the herd boss tells them to do. Or they don’t, and then the herd boss has to handle it,” he told her as they walked along.

[Hilana]

Hilana was keeping a close eye on the old mare. “She looks hungry,” she told Yasim.

“She always is. Ponies eat a lot,” he told her. “Ever noticed how they usually go about grazing?”

The girl blinked at him.

“Grazing. You know, eating.” Hilana nodded at that one. “Malka loves to eat… so much so that she’s gotten fat, since she doesn’t have to work very hard any more. But she can use some exercise,” he grinned at her. “Are you okay with leading her?” She nodded. She was doing well! Or so she thought, really. The mare, glinting like a copper tea pot in the sun, seemed to have a somewhat calming effect on the child as she walked around the pasture, leading Malka along with the lead rope. “You keep going,” the boy instructed her. “I have to go help those kids,” he indicated a knot of goats, striding off before breaking into a jog.

Lana looked up at the pony. “Hold on,” she told her, stopping. Malka slowed and stopped, bobbing her head to eye the girl expectantly. What did the filly want? Hilana threw her arms around the mare’s chest, leaning her head against the muscular arch of her neck, and started again, clicking her tongue and taking dancing steps. The pony snorted but started up again. “You’re a pretty girl, yes you are, yes you are,” the girl sang to the pony, humming a few bars to go with it, doing another shimmy. Together, they completed the loop around the pasture, returning them to where Yasim was waiting for her.

[Hilana]

“You’re doing well,” he smiled at her. “I think you’re about ready to ride her now, don’t you think?” Hilana’s eyes got big. Really big. No one had ever trusted her with riding another horse by herself. So did he really mean…? He held up a brush. “First of all, before we ride, we go over our pony with a brush, right? To make sure that her coat is all smooth and shiny. This is a body brush, Lana, see how soft it is?” he held it out to her, and she reached for it curiously. “Don’t drop the lead rope, Lana, always hang onto that.” The little girl nodded, and reached for the body brush with her free hand. Yasim ran it across her hand, and she let out a giggle. “We’ll tie her here, to the post, so that you can use both hands. This is an easy knot that you can take pull apart easily… just like weaving, isn’t it? Have you started learning that?” Hilana shook her head. She didn’t like it at all, but if it had some practical applications…

Yasim took the lead rope from her, and expertly tied the pony to the wooden hitching post as he continued to talk. Hilana clutched the brush with both hands, eying the sleek pony in front of her. “Malka gets groomed a lot, and we won’t be using a saddle… so there isn’t a lot of grooming to do for her right now. You can just use the body brush on her, like this,” he applied the brush to the coat, and worked the brush down her neck. “You brush her with that, and I’m going to make sure her hooves are clean. Go on, Lana, Malka likes to be brushed. It makes her coat shiny, doesn’t it,” he encouraged her as the girl held the rope with one hand, and ran the brush over the pony’s shoulder. She was a bit too small for this, but she was open to trying!

She made a good fist of it, too, as short as she was, brushing away happily, first on one side, and then on the other. They worked like that for a while; Yasim supervising her and keeping an eye on the herd, and Lana brushing away happily, making sure to get Malka’s legs and belly. She was having plenty of problems reaching the back, but that was okay, she felt. If she could just get up there, she could brush her more… tucking the brush under her chin, Hilana eyed the mare almost suspiciously from ground level. There had to be a way to do it! “Here,” the gangly boy lifted her, an arm wrapped around her stomach and another at her knees. The child made a sound of pure delight, and set to work with the body brush along the pony’s back.

Eventually, though, he deemed her work finished. “There we are. Ready to climb up, now?” he grinned at her. Hilana reached for the mare, then, but instead, Yasim set her down.

What?! Noooo!

[Hilana]

Yasim took the brush from her, and set it aside. “I’m not going to lift you up,” he told her. “You need to climb up,” Hilana eyed the pony, who stood patiently. Okay, so she was used to climbing on things. Trees, tents, buildings… she backed up, and tried a running start, trying to hop up, only to bounce off the well-padded side of Old Malka and land on her bottom in the cool sand.

Yasim couldn’t contain his laughter, so a few chuckles escaped as he covered his mouth with a hand. Hilana, by then, was back up and backing up for another try. “Try grabbing her mane,” Yasim coached her. “You can use that to help pull yourself up.” The little girl stopped mid-stride.

“But that’s pulling her hair! That’ll hurt!” she protested. She didn’t want to hurt her!

“Remember how I said you couldn’t hurt her? If you pull her mane, she won’t mind much,” Yasim crouched down to be on Hilana’s level. “We pull her mane every so often, though you wouldn’t know it, because of how thick it is. It helps thin her mane and make her look like the queen she is,” he patted Malka’s side. “I’ll give you a leg up this time, since she is a little tall for you, monkey-girl.”

That seemed to have some effect, be it the one he was expecting or not. “I can do it!” Lana insisted, scowling, and Yasim straightened up. He didn’t envy Hilana’s family. This one, he could tell, was as stubborn as they came.

“Then go ahead,” he told her. She nodded, and backed up, trying again, this time grabbing two fistfuls of coarse black mane as she got to the pony and trying to hoist herself up, crouching and springing. She almost had it. Yasim leaned against the hitching post and watched with satisfaction. “A little better. Maybe the third time?” he coaxed her when the little girl landed on her feet, staring up at the gleaming pony with a slightly perplexed look on her face, her blue and green eyes narrowed.

She hopped a little to get a grip on a bit of the mane on the other side of Malka, who had turned her head to watch the girl’s efforts with the amused air of a jovial pony. Hilana crouched as low as she could while retaining her handfuls of mane, and focused on pushing off and pulling up at the same time. Yasim clapped as the little girl rested for a minute before trading in one handful of hair for another, and managed to get her right leg over the broad back of the mare. The child let out a squeal of triumph, doing a shimmy again and settling down happily, still hanging on tight to the mane. She was up! She was up!

[Hilana]

“Well, now that you’re up there,” Yasim told her, “it’s a good a time as any to learn how to ride. Even with just one rein.” He gave the end of the lead rope a swift tug, and the neat line of knots came out easily. He took Hilana’s hand, adjusting it, and folded her fingers over the lead rope. “This is your rein. Normally you’d have two, but you’ll be fine with just one. Malka’s a sweet old lady, and she’s not afraid of the rope,” he explained. “If you had two reins, you can just adjust the rein on that side to get her to turn, but because you only have one, you have to get the rope around her head to turn the different ways. But she’s used to it. See?” he moved her left hand, passing the rope over the pony’s face. Malka just looked bored.

“Come on, Malka,” Yasim patted her neck. “Let’s give this little girl a ride.” The boy stepped back and walked off, while Hilana clutched her mane as the pony bobbed her head and followed him. “To get her going, you can making kissing sound,” he demonstrated, “and give her a nudge with your feet. To get her to stop, pull back on your rein, and tell her, ‘whoa’,” Yasim coached the girl. “To turn, pull your rein out a little bit that way. But most importantly to steer… think about where you want to go. They pick up on it, and they’ll go that way,” the boy explained. “Posture’s important, too. Sit up straight… there you go. It’s good to start without all of the tack… that way you learn proper balance from the get go. Watch your legs… there you go.” The little girl straightened and adjusted her legs as per her young instructor’s wishes, looking around happily and swaying with the motion of the pony.

“To back up, you draw up on your rein, adjust your heels, and ask her to back up. Remember to think about going backwards,” Yasim told her as he strolled along ahead, and Malka just took her sweet time walking along as the excited child clutched mane with one hand, and the lead rope with the other. “Ask her to stop,” Yasim started walking backwards, watching the girl and pony.

“Whoa, Malka,” Hilana pressed with her legs and drew back on the rein. The pony slowed, and stopped in a few steps. Lana let out a gleeful sound of triumph. “Good, good, good, good pony!” she cheered, delighted, easing up on the rope and releasing the mare’s mane to pat her neck happily.

“Now, get her going again,” Yasim kept on walking backwards as the copper pony tossed her head and waited.

“Let’s go, Malka,” the little girl made a kissing sound, nudging gently with her feet. When the mare started again, Hilana released the pressure and focused on staying on. It wasn’t that hard…

“Now,” Yasim said, “getting off is a lot easier than getting on. But if something bad happens, and you need to get off really quick, like she’s running away on you, then you need to do an emergency dismount,” he told her. “That means you get in close to her neck, bring your right leg over, hanging onto your rope and her mane. When your feet are pointed at the ground, then you can push yourself away from her and let go. That way, you can land on your feet. The worst that can happen, after all, is that you’ll land on your bum. It’s not as far down to the ground as it looks like,” he grinned at her wide-eyed expression. “She’s not going to run off on you. But now you know what to do if she did.”

[Hilana]

“I need to help over there,” Yasim told her, starting to walk away from where the little girl was sitting on the pony’s back. “So you just keep going. Remember, if you have to, climb off. And since you’ll be going in a circle, you might want to switch your lead rope from your left hand to your right. Try it,” he paused, just in case. He didn’t think Malka would react poorly, but…

Hilana released the mare’s mane to transfer the rope from one hand to the other, and soon had a good handful in her left hand. Then she eased the rope over Malka’s face, holding her breath. The old pony, who was probably sainted by Caiyha now for all the shenanigans she’d put up with from teaching little Benshira children how to ride, just plodded sedately along while Hilana crooned praises at her. Mostly it was words that her sisters had rained on them on a regular basis. Hilana knew ‘brat’, at least, was not even remotely complimentary.

They walked around the goats, and Hilana focused beyond the mare’s ears, more at where she wanted to go. Forward, ahead. But when they were approaching the edge of the flock, Hilana wanted to turn, and so she looked that way, and gently moved her wrist to coax the old pony into turning right. “Right, Malka,” she asked her, and let out a cheer when the pony turned, and patted her neck. “Good!” Yasim watched from the distance, with a knot of other youths, all of who were vastly amused by the little girl clinging to the pony, and praising her profusely every time the mare did something she asked. They had to keep an eye on their troublesome charges, though, and soon the visiting little girl was all but forgotten.

Yasim noted from the corner of his eye that she passed around the pasture on the patient pony, getting a little more adventurous with her turning, although she seemed to favour going in circles as opposed to passing the rope over to turn the other way. She was managing to avoid the goats, who were ignoring the lovely fat pony strolling through along. Hilana did her best to keep her back straight, and not to press with her legs when she didn’t mean to do something with them. The shepherd noted with approval that she wasn’t holding onto Malka’s mane with her free hand any more, but was instead combing her fingers through it as she kept up a steady stream of chatter. Malka had that effect on children – Lana was not the first, and as old as the mare was, she wouldn’t be the last.

[Hilana]

“Okay, we’re going to turn right here,” Hilana told the mare, trying to guide her with the rein, clearly thinking about a spot to the right of them by the purple flower, and applying a bit of pressure with her right leg. Old Malka just ignored her, though, because something else had caught her attention: the water trough. She had decided she was thirsty, and it was time for a break. “Malka, no!” The girl protested. “Nononono, right! Right!” The sedate mare ignored her to stick her head in the trough, slurping up water. Lana just gave up, and let her. Couldn’t blame her for being thirsty. It was hot out, even with the wind coming off of the coast.

But she was stunned speechless when Malka went back to the spot where Hilana had been asking her to turn, and stopped, and waited. Yasim, who had seen the whole thing, couldn’t help laughing as he leaned against a nanny goat, clutching his sides at the girl’s dumbfounded expression. She certainly didn’t see what was so funny, especially as the pony bobbed her head, as if to tell the child, ‘get on with it’. “Let’s go, Malka,” the Benshira told the pony solemnly with a cluck of the tongue. “Let’s go!” she clutched the lead rope tightly, and was back to hanging onto the mane. Yasim just shook his head as Malka got the pony to take that right turn she hadn’t felt like taking before. Silly pony.

When Sarala finally came looking for her niece in the afternoon, she found the shiny mare contentedly grazing, lacking a halter and a lead, while a girl was draped over her back, her hands in Old Malka’s mane as a boy looked on, slowly working on painstakingly carving out a reed flute. “Would you be looking for little Lana?” he got up, setting knife and reed aside.

“Good afternoon,” Sarala smiled. “I hope she hasn’t been too much trouble for you.”

“Oh, no,” Yasim waved his hand. “She’s had a great day. She probably won’t even be able to walk tomorrow, either,” he added hesitantly. “… She spent a little too much time up there.” Sarala smiled, looking at the sleeping child as the pony plodded over to the boy, and worked at untangling the child’s fingers from the coarse black mane. Her efforts served only to tighten the girl’s grip, but Lana’s aunt persevered, and soon had the slumbering girl in her arms.

“Thank you so much for looking after her,” the woman told him. “...Can she come again tomorrow?”