Chapter 3, part 2: In Which Our Hero Traumatizes His Behind

(Z: Continued from part 1, broken for length.)

And then, just before sunset, after Altin had found himself on the ground yet again, a strange thing happened.

Spot took pity on him.

"This is another trap, right? You're just trying to give me an even number of missing fingers."

"This is going to end up with me in pain, I just know it."

And then Spot shut him up. He winced as he felt her muzzle brush against his ear -- his precious, hopefully-still-intact ear -- and then...she didn't bite him. In fact...she didn't seem to be trying to hurt him at all. It was almost like she was trying to be affectionate...

Confused, but not wanting to miss the opportunity, Altin slipped the bridle over her head, but waited expectantly for her to shake it off of herself again. And waited. 

Spot shifted her weight a bit, as if she were considering it, but left it in place. 

Altin made his attempt...

And nearly fell back off from surprise. Spot waited uncharacteristically patiently for Altin to settle himself.

"Ah...go?"

And they set off.

Altin hadn't had the energy or free time to really explore Appaloosa Plains before now, and he found himself surprised by how much beauty the little country town had to offer. And how much wealth. Between the two, if he ever managed to work his way back up into theft, he could be very happy here for a very long time.

He let Spot meander her own way into town, too concerned with staying in the saddle to mind.

Once they reached the city center, she picked up speed, thundering past City Hall and Appaloosa's few office buildings. Altin was...less than thrilled.

And then he saw where she was headed. Appaloosa was cowboy land, so he knew they were fond of their horses, but he hadn't realized they were fond enough to have a formal training center set up. Spot must have found it when they first arrived in town, during one of her disappearing acts. She made a beeline straight for the dirt racetrack, and Altin let her have her fun as he got more comfortable in the saddle.

Or tried to. After several laps he was reminded of how inexperienced he was at riding by the pain in his thighs and the rubbery feeling in his knees. He tried to dismount and they buckled under him. Looks like he'd be taking a taxi home. Besides, it was almost daybreak and tomorrow he had to "go to work," as the law-abiding citizens say.

Spot nuzzled him again, and pressed her head into his chest for a moment, then nickered and ran off. But that was okay. Altin was surprised to realize he wasn't worried. Somehow he knew that after today she'd come home when she was ready.