Pas(sade) de Cheval

Brush Fence

Ryan pressed his back against the jump and took measured strides forward, counting his paces until he reached the next obstacle. He did the calculations without having to think. "It's going to be a solid five strides, especially coming down that hill." He said aloud. Even if Brendon hadn't been with him, he probably would have said it anyway. He found it stuck in his head better if he said it, since he learned best by listening. 

"It's going to be closer to six for me." Brendon commented, and Ryan looked at him questioningly. He knew Brendon's horse was a little shorter than his, and her stride was definitely shorter than Betty's, but it wasn't enough to explain why he would say that. "She doesn't brush." Brendon gestured at the second jump out of the line, which had a good 30-60 cm of hedge on top. 

Ryan snorted. "Actually, that doesn't surprise me. You're going to have fun with this one then." He stood back and reassessed the jump, imagining his horse clearing the whole thing rather than letting their legs go through the brush like they were supposed to. It was much more imposing that way, and Brendon's horse would have to leave closer to the base of the jump to be able to make it.

Brendon grinned in agreement. "Brandy is nothing if not fun." 

Brendon had followed Ryan's lead through the first ten jumps or so, wandering at his side as he inspected the footing, the striding, and anything else that could have an impact on his ride. Brendon threw in a comment every now and then, but for the most part he was just tagging along and listening to Ryan's advice, and it was starting to get on Ryan's nerves. He didn't want to just give away valuable information that could be used to beat him. He had to remind himself that Brendon was the competition. 

Around the halfway point of the cross country course, Ryan stopped talking. He went through the various aspects of the course in his head, and ignored Brendon's existence. His footsteps felt especially loud as the silence stretched between them, Ryan refusing to be the first to break it. He wanted to be able to forget that he was even with anyone, and focus wholly on the course, but Brendon's presence was impossible to not be aware of. Every time he ran his hand through his hair or jumped over a puddle, Ryan was paying attention.

After what felt like hours of silence, but was probably more like two minutes, they heard the whirring sound of a golf cart coming up behind them. The riders on board bickered over which direction to go, trying to grab the map from each other and zooming past the spot where the two guys were walking. They watched it drive by, nodding politely when the driver raised a hand in greeting. 

"Ugh." Brendon scoffed once they were out of earshot. 

Ryan nodded emphatically. "Seriously!" They shared a small smile.

"I mean, golf carts are fun and all..." Brendon started hesitantly.

"Yes, for golfing." 

Brendon laughed. "I find it hard to believe you've ever golfed."

Ryan pressed his lips together and looked away. "That's beside the point." Brendon chuckled softly. "It totally defeats the purpose of walking the course if you're on one of those things. You can't pace out the distance between jumps. You can't get a feel for the footing, or accurately decide which studs you're going to need. It's totally ridiculous and they only do it out of laziness, or maybe some sense of entitlement that makes them think they're too good to walk." 

They had continued walking as Ryan went on his rant, gesturing wildly as he got himself worked up about the topic. Brendon nodded in agreement. "You're not wrong. There's a reason only the rich brats tend to-" He gasped and grabbed Ryan who was about to fall into a ditch. He'd been staring at Brendon as they spoke, and hadn't even noticed they'd reached the next obstacle which was a wide ditch in front of a fence. He'd had one foot stuck out over the opening when Brendon wrapped an arm around his middle and hauled him backwards just in the nick of time.