Holt Arnold, your owner led you from the comfortable stable, your beautiful white-fading-to-black appaloosa coat damp from the morning grooming. "Alright boy, time we practice that barrelin' again.." He soothed, but you snorted uncertainly, shaking your head with your mane going fluffy.

"None of that now" Holt grumbled, tightening the cinch on your saddle. "You've got the speed, jus' needa turn sharper." Holt said and swung up onto you, the weight of his body being on your back. He nudged you into a walk. Once the barrels came into view, your ears swiveled back with slight fear. You only raced, never turned sharply. You snorted uneasily, tail swishing. "Easy now, Cactus.." Holt murmured, patting your neck. "We'll start slow." he clicked his tongue and urged you into a lope.

You eyed the first barrel with swiveled ears. As Holt had you rounded it, you shielf abruptly. "Woah! Steady!" Holt pulled back your rein, and you reared with a loud whinny, hooves hitting the floor with a loud thump and you trotted away with uneasy. Holt held onto your reins, grunting as he was nearly unwedged from your saddle "Dagnabbit boy.." he hissed.