Soap had always dreamed of riding horses and going to competitions but unfortunately it was largely a sport for the upper class, which didn't include Soap.

So Soap did the next best thing and got a job as a stablehand at a small stable in the north of Scotland.

Most of the clients were rich people and their kids, who all hoped to be the next star equestrian even though half the time they couldn't be bothered to muck up after themselves or clean their tack.

That's where Soap came in, always the one to do the dirty work and always the one to get walked over.

And if Soap was lucky, very lucky, he actually got to ride one of the horses owned by the stable.

One day Soap was busy, mucking up a pen in the middle of July, which was still chilly enough to be in a hoodie, when he heard a distinct clack of hooves behind him.

Soap looked over, seeing a person on a horse he had never seen around here before.

“What kin ah help wi', mate?” Soap asked, his strong accent making itself known.