Pony Boot Camp — Part Fifty-Seven

Trinkets, Odds and Ends

Here I was again. The dreamy ponygirl-in-training, basking in the crush on her handler and yearning for the day she would have earned her tail for good.

I am exaggerating obviously. And yet there was a stinging sensation running through me when I saw Hipster Beard and knew that soon he and not Kandrin would be driving me. A tad too eagerly I trapped myself in my ponyboots whilst he gathered the rest of my tack. I winced at the prompt onset of pain, the well-deserved backlash for failing to limber my feet up properly before locking them into the severe en pointe position.