[color=lightsteelblue][center][h3]- Niall Collins -[/h3][/center][/color]
[center][@Fetzen][/center]

Niall sauntered easily across the ground of the school's campus, he followed one of the many paths, headed for the stables to see his favorite creatures. Horses were always one of his favorite things, they soothed him like nothing else. Perhaps it was the fact that there was a creature giving and trusting enough that they would truly let a natural predator such as him sit on their back. It was essentially the ultimate act of trust, they let a wolf, a massive one, ride upon their back. He made most of the horses nervous still but they would allow his intrusion into their lives. He pondered their sheer will as he neared the barn, the smell of it spiraling inside his flared nostrils. 

It was an unmistakable scent that he would forever know, something even a dull human's nose could detect though could not simply fully appreciate. The musky scent of damp straw, the crispness of pine shavings, the acrid burn of urine, the most dominant though was the signature scent of a horse. Warmth mixed with a soft dustiness and prey animal nervousness. It was sheer bliss when he smelt it either from the memories or the scent itself. His tough and well used leather boots made a distinctive noise against both the ground and the wooden floor of the barn. He wasn't sure why it was so common for horse barns to have wooden floors but he was grateful it seemed to be a reoccurring theme amongst them. He moved easily through the aisle, looking at each horse in turn. Most shied softly away from him simply because of his nature. 

It wasn't until he reached the horse of his friend that he stopped. Laurel's personal horse, the vicious creature was the only one who dared thrust its head from the stall and try to bite him. A beautiful grulla mare, the color of a shimmering sword made many years ago, a family heirloom passed down for many generations. Inky black stripes covered her legs much like a zebra along with a black strip across the top of her shoulders. The hateful mare's sharply pointed ears were twisted in his direction, the same silver as the rest of her but for the black rim around them. She snorted balefully at him, her black muzzle twisting as she reached for hime once more in a vengeful lunge. Instead of fearing the witch he moved towards her, invading her space as she watched him with hateful eyes. The only lightness on her was the smattering of white spots on her rump that covered her hips and butt.

She was a horse who would forever have to be reminded who was in charge of the situation. He grabbed her halter swiftly, opening the door to her stall before stepping inside. He secured the leather creation around her face before snapping on a lead and withdrawing her from the stall. She pushed and shoved him, trying to bully her way out of the stall but he held her behind him. Once she was in the aisle she pranced, throwing her head high in the air and her hooves cracked against the wooden floor. The noise seemed to only excite her more. Once she was secured in the cross ties he placed the pad and saddle Laurel had shown him. After securing the saddle onto the mare's back he pulled the simple bridle from the wall and let her snap up the bit. He moved along beside her, unsnapping the cross ties and leading her outside before stepping into the stirrup and mounting her. 

It was a careful dance, getting on her as she pranced about, almost dancing across the ground as he moved to sit on her back. Once he was on her she continued her dance until he pushed her into a brisk trot. It wasn't until he pushed closer that he saw Asmund aboard a large draft horse. The barn manager was along beside the gifted, guiding the horse along. "[color=lightsteelblue]Mrs. Fairfield, are you giving a riding test?[/color]" He called to the woman who smiled at him when she turned to find him there. 

"[color=peachpuff]Yes! Mr. Collins, perhaps you could give a bit of a demonstration for what I'm asking for. Is that Ms. Demirci's horse? Such a foul creature really. I've no clue where she found such a mean horse.[/color] The woman had her hair drawn back in a severe bun while her voice was quite the opposite, animated and cheerful with a posh London accent. He nodded at her. He knew the drill quite well; walk, trot, canter, then circle in then out then try a counter-canter. Then they would try some simple-ish but more advanced things. 

"[color=lightsteelblue]Are you up for it Asmund?[/color]" Niall questioned, a wry smile on his face as he looked at the much larger gifted. He was one of the few people on campus who was bigger than Niall, especially by a significant amount.