The Masked Druid

Fleeting Perfection

A cool, evening sky looked down on my efforts, as I reined in Dutch yet again. My mum's gaze never faltered, as she leaned on the fence at the side of the arena. Her face was kind, the ever-lasting love of a parent - agape - clear in her features. Except for the horse beneath me and my mum, we were alone. The farmers had left their fields a while ago, and the last few riders passing on the trail up to the town had disappeared. In the quiet, I guided the stallion around again, feeling the resistance down the reins which I clutched tightly in my gloved hands.

"Don't fight him, Ryn. Dutch'll always win." The quiet words weren't reprimands, so I tried to follow them. Calm. Collected. Careful. She was right. She'd ridden Dutch a thousand times before me - the Lusitano was one stubborn horse. "Let's head in after this try."

Turning at the corner of the arena, I breathed in, and out. Evening was painted in beautiful, pale pink streaks across a darkening navy sky, interlaced with fluffy clouds, stained magenta with the light. Sweat glistened on my forehead - Dutch's thick, black mane was dripping with it - it had been an exhausting day. Helping my dad herd up some stray cattle, the rope rubbing my palms raw as I attempted to lasso a few in. Mucking out the stables, with only the nickering of patient horses and the stamping of less-patient horses to accompany me. And now, trying to make this narrow-minded horse perform the gait which he knew full well he could do, after my mum trained him specially to do it. He just didn't want to, which I could understand, but I also had to try and make him understand that a few bouncy steps later, we could both be home - him, with a cool water bath, some fresh food and straw to sleep on, and me, cozy in bed with a warm meal in my stomach. It was best for both of us - he just had to see that.

Fully aware that this was our last shot, I took one last breath before beginning to work, encouraging the elegant piaffe which I'd seen from him so many times before. My heels moved instinctively, after an afternoon of almost non-stop attempts, begging for the movement. Please, Dutch. Please.

Weight lifted from my heart like the clouds above, drifting up into my shoulders as I sat, proud, attempting to keep my body in position. He'd done it! A few seconds later, it was all over, but I recognised the feel, the movements, the shuddering acceptance from his huge frame as he decided that the humans could win, this time. He'd play our little games, but only for the torrent of pats which I rained down on his sweaty neck, the sugarcube which my mum presented him with as he was lead out of the arena, and the comfort of a newly-cleaned stall once I'd got him settled down for the night. Dutch was a character, to be sure.

"Will you take the mask off for dinner?" Mum met me as I left the stables, stretching my aching arms. "Your nana asked. You know I don't mind, Ryn, but-"

"It makes me nervous." All the pride, the adrenaline from completing the move, drained away in a few moments. Back to the same old household routine - back to the quiet arguments about the mask.

"The mask?" Confused, she stopped for a moment, looking into what she could see of my eyes. "Then take it off, Ryn. No one's forcing you to wear it."

"Being without it." Shaking my head, I stopped as well, looking up at the old, two-story ranch house. The tempting smell of dinner lay within, but I knew what came with it. Nana. Five feet of disapproving glances, sharp comments about politeness and 'lady-like' behaviour, and long, anecdotal stories about dangerous youths wearing masks. "I sleep without it, and I get nightmares."

"I'll talk to Nana, but it seems like it's just psychological, Ryn." Still not telling me off, still trying not to be harsh, she took another step towards the house, before turning back. "It's like a comfort blanket, I think - from everything you've told me and your dad. You'll have to get rid of it at some point, Ryn. You're sixteen." A sigh, as she looked down at the path. "Don't take it to Jorvik. Please."

With that, we both fell into silence, and entered the house - I took my riding helmet off at the door, and hesitated for a moment. My fingers twitched at my sides. Nana would stop complaining to my parents about me, and she might have given me less trouble in general without the mask. I'd be able to sit and smile at them all, and they'd smile back across the table, genuine smiles. Not anxious, forced smiles, through gritted teeth. I had the ability to fix my homelife in my hands, and all it took was one decision.

But I walked into the dining-room a masked girl, not ready to face the world without my crutch.