Status: One shot!
Buttermilk
There was once a girl and her horse. She called her horse Buttermilk, a name she chose when she was five. Her and Buttermilk have been inseparable since then. The girl is sixteen now and still loves her horse. The horse is also sixteen, in human years of course. But there is something odd about this horse. Once Buttermilk grew to be a full sized horse, he never got sick and he never got old. Butter milk stayed the same, a spunky, fun loving horse. His personality matched his owner’s, the girl’s.
As she got older, the more fiery she got. The girl was good tempered, as was her horse, but she loved to show herself, to prove that she was strong.
She spent most of her time with Buttermilk. After school she’d run to the barn and ready her horse. She would ride him till dinner time. Then after she’d go back to the barn and give him treats. She would spend three hours brushing his dark black coat, giving him an apple, and then brush his coat again. She would sometimes take his hooves and clean them until his hooves sparkled and was free of all the mud and guck. Her horse would be clean and dark, sometime the only thing you could see was his green eyes. Then, finally she’d go to her house and go to sleep.
The next morning , the girl woke up and she felt a little different. Like something was going to happen, something big. The girl got dressed and got ready for the day.
It was Saturday and there was no school. The girl headed straight for the barn. But there was something amiss. The girl gasped.
Buttermilk wasn’t in his stall. She ripped the stall door open and almost stepped on something. She looks down and screamed.
It was a boy, around the same age as the girl, sleeping on the stray covered ground. The boy stirred a bit. The girl took a poker that hanging off of a nearby post. She gently poked the boy’s bear shoulder. His hand flew up and swatted away the poker. The girl stepped closer. She got a better look at the boy’s face. His black hair hung in his pale face. The girl gently kicked his knee with her foot. The boy finally woke up. He shot up and looked around. He finally looked at the girl. His green eyes finally met the girl’s. His face lit up and one word fell out of his mouth.
“Eyrene!”
As she got older, the more fiery she got. The girl was good tempered, as was her horse, but she loved to show herself, to prove that she was strong.
She spent most of her time with Buttermilk. After school she’d run to the barn and ready her horse. She would ride him till dinner time. Then after she’d go back to the barn and give him treats. She would spend three hours brushing his dark black coat, giving him an apple, and then brush his coat again. She would sometimes take his hooves and clean them until his hooves sparkled and was free of all the mud and guck. Her horse would be clean and dark, sometime the only thing you could see was his green eyes. Then, finally she’d go to her house and go to sleep.
The next morning , the girl woke up and she felt a little different. Like something was going to happen, something big. The girl got dressed and got ready for the day.
It was Saturday and there was no school. The girl headed straight for the barn. But there was something amiss. The girl gasped.
Buttermilk wasn’t in his stall. She ripped the stall door open and almost stepped on something. She looks down and screamed.
It was a boy, around the same age as the girl, sleeping on the stray covered ground. The boy stirred a bit. The girl took a poker that hanging off of a nearby post. She gently poked the boy’s bear shoulder. His hand flew up and swatted away the poker. The girl stepped closer. She got a better look at the boy’s face. His black hair hung in his pale face. The girl gently kicked his knee with her foot. The boy finally woke up. He shot up and looked around. He finally looked at the girl. His green eyes finally met the girl’s. His face lit up and one word fell out of his mouth.
“Eyrene!”