Gyp-sea

Creating

His eyes swam back into focus, seeing the pebbles milometers away from his translucent eyelashes. The horse pushed itself up onto all for hooves again, and  gazed at his surrounding again. It was lighter now, the sun slithering up the horizon in a smooth flow. He blinked, then began to walk forward, towards the calm tide. His hooves left little puddles where ever he stepped. He snorted, prancing about and bucking for the sheer joy of it. 

He reached the waters edge, gazing intently at the mini waves rushing up the beach towards him. He whinnied and jumped slightly as a surge of water rushed about his hocks. He experimented, scraping his hoof around under the shallow water, sending up droplets of water. He threw his head up, rearing and coming crashing down into the water, sending splashes all around him. He stopped, watching the ripples move out steadily in circles all around. He swished his tail, the watery tips flicking droplets of water away, making them land with the pitter-patter noise of rain on puddles.

He moved along the beach, staying in the shallows, enjoying the feeling of connection he had with the sea while there. He lifted his head, looking up the shingle banks, seeing oddly colored structures, with flamboyant patterns in a pure white all over them. He focused on them, loosing all concentration on anything else. While he was looking, an ungainly wave hit the shingle with a ferocity he hadn't experienced yet. Huge chunks of foam from the water enveloped his hooves, attaching to them, hiding them with this white substance that bubbled and crackled. He lifted them up, one by one, the foam hanging down in a curtain around his hooves. He liked them! 

He saw another larger wave coming, so he lay down on his side, so his mane was facing the sky. As the wave towered over him, he closed his eyes. The foam came down, attaching to his mane and tail, making them thick and long. He smiled to himself, his delicate lips curving upwards. He saw a pile of... Something in the distance. Curiosity reined over all, so he cantered over, his new locks floating in the wind as he strided out briskly.

The "Something" was a dark color, like the night sky, he thought. He experimentally nosed it. It stuck to him, and he snorted in confusion and interest. This time, he pushed his whole head in, the something, which by now i'm sure you know is dirt, was soft and hugged his head. He pulled his long face out, and shook it, dirt clots flying off him, until only a smooth coat of blacky brown remained. He trotted over to a clear space and rolled, making a puddle. He stared into it; a dark headed horse with a star shape on it's forehead stared back. He turned away, and trotted to the pile once more. He rolled in it, so he had these dark patches all over. He loved it, he loved himself. To those looking on, you might see a slightly discolored, wild heavy horse on the beach, but we all know who it really is... And so did he.

He was happy.

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After feeding her goats, Analetta sat in the grass under a tree. She looked at the field that was her temporary home happily. It wasn't just the idyllic location that was making her smile, it was partly because a family friend that she adored was arriving back today. Mr Petit was a vet that had been away for 7 months on a cavalry transporter. They had gone from England, to France- Mr Petit's  home country- and now they were back in England. They had been training the cavalry mounts over in the French Riding School Of Saumur, all young, flighty 3-4 year old stallions and mares.

 Mr Petit had took his own horse along for the ride, and to train under the best french instructors around. She was a calm mare, by the name of "7/8 Reindeer" at shows. She was a jumper, but so sweet and relaxed that she had actually been the first horse Analetta had ridden, aged only 7. She smiled fondly at the memory, 6 years ago, a small girl with wild hair smiling so wide she could have burst, sitting astride a gorgeous chestnut mare with dark brown eyes. She stroked her long hair that was lying on her shoulder in untamed dreadlocks. 

A loud blast from a van approaching snatched her out of her memories. Mr Petit was back! He was early! She jumped up, yelling out.

"MUM! MR PETIT IS HERE!"

Lala peered around the wagon door, flour up to her elbows like elegant gloves.

"Already?" She yelled back, the turned and saw the van turning into the caravan park behind the field, "Oh lord, you're right! But he's at least 2 hours early! That man!" She laughed fondly.

Analetta smiled and ran, hearing a patter behind her. She turned and saw Bax jogging along, a couple of strides away. She turned back, putting on as much speed as she could, racing him. The little goat bounded along side her with ease. They reached the gate, and Analetta vaulted over it with elegantly, and Bax bounded it a few moments behind her, landing neatly, barely checking his speed. Analetta saw the figure of the man she knew exiting the big van, and yelled. 

"MR PETIT!" 

He turned, a gloomy look on his face that was soon lit up with a huge grin.

"My leetle Ana!" He cried, opening his arms wide. Ana surged forward and fell into a tight hug, her head pressed against his chest, smiling and crying tears of joy.

"Oh I have missed you! You didn't forget about me, did you?" She laughed, looking the man in his green eyes.

"Of course not, darlihng!", He exclaimed, "How could I?". He was interrupted by an impatient bleat. "And of course, Monsieur Baxter hasn't been forgotten either, you bald sheep!" He joked, stroking the little goat on his hard head.

"Oh, it is good to be back!" He sighed, his memories of this place flooding back. Without realizing it, he started to cry.

"Mr Petit? Are you okay?" Asked Ana worriedly.

"Yes, poppet... Lets go to your wagon, I'm sure your mother has made lots of goodies to spoil me, eh?" He said, starting towards the gate.

"But...", Ana said hesitantly, "What about Donner? Aren't you going to unload her now? I picked some fresh apples from the orchid for her..."

Jon Petit's eyes clouded over.

"She's...", He whispered, licking dry lips, "Not here..."