Chapter one

Classics. I rolled like crazy in bed, sometimes with some angry growls. The nightmares were here again.

"You're doing it wrong! Wrong, wrong!"

"But Mom, training was enough today. I would like to go out too. Even Dancer is tired."

Careful anger was reflected in his eyes. Looking at my tense mother with a whip in her hand, I would not allow myself anything but "careful anger". Her ice blue eyes, blond hair, eternally tucked into a tight bun, and a stern expression. Few people wanted anything to do with her, except me. I must have had a lot to do with her.

"You can get out when it's perfect. Dancer is fine. So again and better!"

The music resonated with the warm summer air again, and I had to bite my lower lip so as not to swear. The stallion was given an incentive to trot. He obeyed, but shook his head slightly in protest.

"Tighten the reins."

"This is enough!"

"Do it!"

I tightened the reins. It was too much and the horse suffered quietly in discomfort. However, his neck was packed much more than before, which his mother considered progress. His lithe body moved forward uneasily, and it seemed that he intended to express his dissatisfaction at any moment.

"I'm sorry, boy. You will then receive an apple as a reward later."

Repeated attempts at a pirouette, in an effort to really make the wheel as small as possible. Perfect, flawless, with the perfect seven. Instead, the dancer began to jump unhappily and pull on the reins. He used to be nice, he wouldn't hurt a fly. But my mother's long training was just too much for him. He was starting to be kinda angry. Maybe more than kinda.

"Give him a whip! He can't afford this! "

Her uncomfortable voice echoed throughout the riding hall. Attempts to guide the stallion did not work out in any other way. As soon as the reins eased a little, he added almost to a gallop. He shook his head, dug up. He was just trying to get rid of the unpleasant pressure from all sides.

"Do it!" she repeated.

"I will not! Well, I won't! It's not even worth it for! "

"Monn! Immediately!" she hissed, deftly grabbing the grosbeak's reins.

As soon as she stopped him, he was going to do it herself. It was clear to me that she would calmly sweep Dancer in her blood. The only possible solution remained; give the stallion a sharp incentive. He cut out his mother and hurried out of the riding hall. Better a punishment than if he got it.

My head landed on the corner of the bedside table, thanks to a few sharp movements. The mood immediately dropped below freezing, not only due to the pain pulsing away from the affected sleep. Such memories seriously destroyed one. Unfortunately, this one was far from the worst. I preferred to look around, the morning light shining through the window into the room, forming a dim strip of light across the gray carpet. The alarm clock, thrown carelessly between the pillows, flashed softly, pointing 6:14.

"Cool. He would start ringing in a minute. "

Someone like me has long been used to morning training, but still. I hated getting up early.

"Monn? You are up?"

And his mother's voice didn't make him any nicer this time.

"Yeah. Imagine that there is a magic thing called an alarm clock. "

Telling her that I had a nightmare about her wouldn't really be worth it. Although, at least, I found it incredibly absurd that she had never planned to stop. How incompetent I must have been in her eyes to approach my person, despite the fact that she had recently celebrated her twentieth birthday, that woman still treated her like a small child who could not even get out of bed on her own?

"Okay. So get in the riding clothes and come down, " she added.

"Riding clothes? Why?"

"Just do it! And a low bun. "

How I hated her at times. However, when a man started an argument with her, she immediately told him how grateful he should be for everything he had and so on. For that reason alone, there was no better choice than to remain silent. And like almost every morning, not even the mirror in the closet made me very happy when it reminded me ruthlessly of how strong the visual similarity united us two; small, slightly pointed nose, relatively small lips, with the lower one always a little larger. Thin eyebrows, jaw quite wide. Gradually, I looked at all the details, sitting on the edge of the bed. I' almost... Want a surgery. Why the necessity to look almost the same? Including hair? Unfortunately, no one from the youngest Chambers chose to choose. Whether she wanted to or not, there were not too many differences between the two of us. Perhaps up to the eyes; hers, blue, always shone with a kind of helpless icy, while mine were interwoven with various shades of green. Sometimes it even seemed that the mother might have considered it an imperfection that a person had owned enough anyway, at least according to her. But I liked this for myself. At least something was doing Monna Monna. It always seemed to me like a silent rebellion. Unfortunately, too quiet to really care about anyone. Most of the time, from the name "Monna Chambers", most people were only interested in that famous, profaned surname, screaming its British origin miles away.

After being forced to finally get out of the warm bed, I immediately noticed that the horses were louder today than usual. Their stamping rumbled to the top. At such moments, one would curse his mother for letting him place a room directly above the stables. Quite deliberate, of course. Then her daughter couldn't make excuses and just always arrive on time. One of the stallions even kicked his hind leg into the box door, which always meant a sign of utter dissatisfaction. He especially hated strangers. Visit? Upon coming down, there was a view of Gracia, already standing by his large stall at the beginning of the line. He was waiting there ready and saddled, which did not exactly correspond to the morning routine. The stallion's light brown fur looked much more polished than normal, which was suspicious in itself. His mane smelled classic with almonds, thanks to the shampoo and conditioner they used to take good care of him. They knew the stallion's rider loved it. I stroked his soft snout and looked around. No one anywhere, just other horses chewing hay. Not even the light blanket with gold embroidery, which we usually wore only for races, went unnoticed. However, after a few minutes, the explanation came by itself. A man was talking to his mother. He looked quite successful; white, designer shirt, gelled hair, teeth whiter than freshly fallen snow. I was terrified of what he might have wanted.

"Hi dear."

That smile. It just made me look disgusted. She only laughed when it was good for something. Either to look like a better parent or when it came to the purchase price of a horse.

"Good morning," it was time for a dry answer.

She completely ignored her daughter, paying attention only to the man: "This is Monna. Gracia has been riding for two years. They are a great team and he is a very characteristic animal. You will be surprised! "

New sponsor? No, definitely not. The fingers of both my hands clenched nervously into small fists, the pale skin of the daily riding gloves creaking. Eventually, the right-hander defensively grabbed the reins of the bay, and her owner shot them both an offended look. None of them looked sympathetic, though the guy was still a little more likeable than his mother. At least he was smiling, while she was forever showing only a cold distance, even hatred, to her own daughter. I wished she had been nice sometimes, almost every day - unfortunately, nothing like that was out of the question.

"What's holding you back, Monn? Go to the rectangle, Gracio is ready."

He wasn't even able to say anything. She managed everything, as always. So we went out, right in front of the gates of our tall, large stables, and I took her a short distance away.

"What's going on? Could you please tell me something? "

"Nothing, nothing. You'll find out everything. Just now, drive the recently trained, short dressage composition perfectly. Nothing more," she replied with the expression of an angel, her face as innocent as if she had never really hid her ulterior motives.

Good. OK. At least once in my life, I wanted to trust this woman. It may have been a naive act, but I didn't want to put together the worst-case scenarios right away. All that was left was to simply breathe in the fresh air, stabbing the sight confidently in front of you and simply following the two across the Chambersovice to the prestigious grounds to the finish line. Which was, so familiar to me, a rectangle. The heart and pride of every dressage stable. The mother, in her perfectly clean white blouse, stood a short distance away, the man with her. She nodded; she wanted me to start as soon as possible. So my partner and I moved to the center. Get on. When one suffered from doubt, suddenly even ordinary things morphed into something seriously difficult. However, as soon as I felt in my hands the strength that Gracio was able to develop when shooting behind the reins, a weak wave of happiness came. As always. It was a great horse. And also the only one I've been lucky enough to own for so long. He breathed contentedly, obviously having his day.

"All right, boy," he said, a small smile coming from the depths of my attempts at icy calm, "I'm glad to see you again, too."

Concentration. It didn't go very well either. Calm down, Monn. Perfectly. Perfectly perfect. Sit, hands, look between the ears. Okay. My mother played the music, she knew very well that we always performed a little better with her. The stallion trotted slowly, after a while he continued on. He reacted immediately to the stimuli, did not rush, held his neck. My amazing horse. For short, a shortened gallop was enough. Then I turned Gracia firmly again towards the center. The enormous power in him, the energy he put into it. He looked stunning at dressage. More than breathtaking. Each muscle tensed, showing the strength and strength of his body. Flexible, confident steps forward with the gaze fixed in front of him. How powerfully one had to hold the reins to keep the horse from exploding like a time bomb at any moment. Energy, elegance. I loved him with all my heart. He was completely indescribable.

"We'll show them what we can do."

Then he snorted hard, his dark nostrils springing energetically. He longed to start as much as the rider. This was followed by a contraction around the perimeter, a deceleration and a half crossing to the left. He presented everything, as always, completely flawlessly. He placed the hooves precisely and infallibly, in a breathtaking rhythm. The foot passed the foot and we just proudly carried ourselves forward. However, a few figures passed and the stallion was adding speed again. Damn. We had to cover it up with another contraception. Right after that, I gave him another, almost invisible signal that he should slow down. But he refused. Which one would consider a fatal mistake, but I've always been able to hide mistakes. The horse intended to show everything with maximum effort. He loved speed. Holding it was like checking a rocket engine - it just went as efficiently as it could. He changed from a gallop to a very brisk pirouette. It seemed that we had to at least kill ourselves, but we didn't. His beautiful body was able to completely destroy any imbalance. He swayed with incredible ease and feeling. Right during that, our mother stopped us; she turned off the music, nodded, and turned the man's gaze.

I stopped Gracia sharply, obeyed. I don't like it, but still.

He smiled: "Okay. That horse is perfect, I'm buying him."

I'm buyig him. His last words almost tore my heart out of my body. I'm buying him? God, what?! No...No... It's not true! She couldn't want to sell him! Along with my angry jump, the soles of his riding boots dug sharply into the sand, which otherwise crunched so nicely under the horses' hooves. The hand gripped the reins, glaring at the two enemies behind the fence.

"You want to sell Gracio?!"

Mother didn't say anything. She just came closer and gripped my shoulder convulsively with her fingers. Then she headed away uncompromisingly, behind the riding hall nearby. Probably not to reduce the purchase price by our next argument. And before she could say anything, every cell in my body wanted to slap her hard.

"His gaits are not elegant enough, plus the advantage. Not enough for you - "

"Mom, no horse is good enough for you! Absolutely none, even after hours of training! You will find a mistake on each and each of them also has one, logically! We would have to ride machines! You can't sell it. You just can't! "

I started yelling at her hysterically there, tears in my eyes and blood on my cheeks. The stallion was so important to me. Otherwise, there was almost nothing to make me happy. The idea of ​​getting used to a new horse seemed awful. The feeling that someone will take the bay hundreds of kilometers away, that I will no longer be able to stroke him, give him a treat.

"Of course I can. And do you know why, little girl? Because I already bought a new one. Much better. So good that no one can deal with him anymore! You will finally be perfect. And now swing into the stable, I'm going to take care of it. "

She just pushed me away. According to her, it was nothing. And I stood there like a plant uprooted from the root, having no idea what to do next. New horse. Again. I wanted to cry. There was no way to stop her. How many times has she done this before? I immediately ran after them. As the man looked at Gracia like a piece of meat, there was no stopping the flow of tears.

"Friend."

One could barely get back to the horse. His fingers ran over the fine fur of that beautiful neck. He sniffed my dark jacket calmly, as he always did. The eyes that waited for me to give him something to eat again. What more disgusting mother could have done? To sell someone I cared so much about, with whom we have already won so much. No asking, no mention. She calmly bought a new horse. There were at least twenty thoughts in my head, my stomach tightening as if I hadn't eaten for several days. His hands were shaking, it was impossible to keep his fingers in his beautiful mane. It was as if someone had destroyed the whole world from minute to minute, which my little thing had built so hard. Hundreds of shards now lay around, and many cut into my heart. Until five minutes ago, he was performing a perfect composition with me. And now he should have left?