Nothing Stays Perfect

Everything ends sometime.

Wooot. Last chapter! Only the epilouge left!

"Good luck," Chase kissed the top of my head, "Go and get them, I know you will!"

"I better keep up the winning record in the relationship huh?" I laughed; the American's were kicking our asses. Luckily I ohad only had Paige to compete with.

"Yeah, I will be very disappointed otherwise!" He grinned down at me, then threw me over my saddle, "Love you Dora."

I leant down to steer my foot into my stirrup, "I love you too, Boots." I kissed him full on the lips then took off to warm Buckley up. After a few rounds of the arena our number was announced, I patted the horse underneath me as we trotted confidently into the main show arena. I vaguely heard my uncles voice telling people who I was, who my horse was, what I was to him and how awesome I am. But really, none of that mattered as I pulled Buckley away from the barrels, prepared for him to turn and shoot out from chute at the same time. I sat deep into my saddle, not with enough grip apparently. The timer nodded at me, when you are ready the gesture said. I nodded back, no time to smile, and patted Buckley's neck one more time. I then lit the firework beneath me. He turned and sprung out of the chute, I remember grinning slightly, every time, every single time, a smile came to my face as we moved as one.

I say I remember because everything went so horribly downhill from there.

As we sprung into the crowds view I heard clapping, cheering, people were screaming my name followed by words of encouragement. Everything blurred as we galloped full speed ahead at the first barrel, then my world literally spun. Maybe not my world, but Buckley did anyway. The last thing I saw was the sadistic smile of someone who I thought I had loved, but really, I hated more than anything in this world.

Then, my world went dark.

I don't remember much, but the dreams. Such vivid dreams, I would swear I was living the moments over and over again in real life. The first dream went like this;

I was young again, maybe eight at a push. It was the first time I met Buckley. He had just been born, and for the only time in his life he looked vulnerable. Mum had driven me up to the paddock as soon as the mares foaling alarms started signalling babies were coming and we arrived just in time to see a little gold and white foal being delivered. I rushed over straight away, he was the most beautiful colours I had ever seen and I knew straight away, he had to be mine. But that wouldn't happen for another two years, dad brought him in to break him and he was going to be dad's horse. Mum already had Oakley, who had proven to be a perfect horse and since they were full brothers' dad figured he couldn't go wrong. That was so true. Buckley did everything for dad, and when permitted I was allowed to brush him, plait his golden and white mane. And if I really behaved, I was allowed to take him out for a ride. When we rode he protected me, moved in such a way that even if I sat backwards, on my head, I wouldn't fall. When I had bad dreams it wasn't mum or dad, or my own pony I ran too, it was always Buckley. He always knew, and after I had cried into his mane and told him all about it he would stand over me as I curled up into the straw on the floor of his stall and drifted back to sleep. Mum and dad would find him sleeping with his nose resting on my head, blowing warm air into my hair. They never understood our bond. Neither did dad really, until mum and Oakley were gone. Dad tried to go with his life straight away, but when he came to ride Buckley one day, he threw him off. Not once in my life had I seen a horse throw my dad off, especially not in the way Buckley did. Dad persevered, trying for a month, daily, to ride Buckley again. He failed. And I had specific instructions to stay away. But I didn't, I couldn't. Like a scene from Flicka, I climbed the round yard fence. Tears were streaming from my face, dad was sending away my last living link to mum in less than a week. Buckley stood with his head down on the far side of the yard. I made it to the middle, then collapsed sobbing to the dirt. He slowly made his way over, and rested his head in my lap. He let me cling to his head, his mane, let me cry into his fur as the night grew to morning. When I woke up again, he was standing above me, blowing warm air into my hair, which he hadn't done for years. Dad was the first to find us, and he was furious. He came towards the yard yelling at me to get out. Buckley reacted, putting himself between dad and I. He snorted, and screamed back at dad. That's when Buckley really became mine. From that moment on, he was my protector, the animal I went to when nothing went right; he stopped the dreams, the worrying, and the ache. He was everything.