You retrace your steps back to the prep box you had claimed. It's just as you left it. You mentally tell yourself to take a good look at it, as it's the last time you'll see such a thing.
"Stop thinking like that. This race doesn't even have a cash prize, so therefore it's unimportant," Silvertwister reminds you.
You remove the saddle from Silvertwister's back to clean his scales; they're covered in tiny fragments of rock, and dust has stolen their once shiny appearance, with no intention of returning the former glossy look. You stare at the saddle for a minute and…