Anxiety

Still she felt the urge to cover herself. Not as strongly as a week ago, and by no means as overwhelmingly as the month before. Miriam let her arms dangle down her sides, opening her shoulders in the same motion. She liked to believe that all her anxiety had been removed, lying greyly in the folded heap of non-descript clothes, having been stripped off her literally.

Her dressage kicking in, Miriam quickly made eye contact as her handler approached with her harness from across the cosy tack room. His silent command of brushing her elbow was enough. The girl raised her arms high, thus giving him access from all sides. Roller-buckled leather wound about her body, which cursed lankiness slowly became counterbalanced by tone and tan. In her mind Miriam was donning armour, like a heroine from those books dear to her heart.