Annalyse and the runaway stallion-to-be

We join our favorite maiden in the midst of a highly enjoyable adventure - rejoining her parents in the land where the air is just air (not a trace of evaporated liquid to be felt) and the leaves of the trees have turned beautiful and festives hues of orange, red, and yellow. Our maiden couldn't have been happier as she skipped off the sky ship toward her waiting mother.
Unbeknowst to our maiden, her time home had been scheduled and structured in order to enable her to do all that she desired in her all-too-short time back in that mountainous and beautiful country. But, as all of the events in her future were exciting, and well, just plain ol' fun, she merrily accompanied her parents to any and all of the happenings about the province of home.
One crystal clear morning with not a cloud in the brilliant blue sky, the maiden and her father prepared their rugged and reliable steeds for their morning constitutional. Dim and unacute as human senses may be in comparison with those of the sturdy steeds, our humans were highly suspicious that their humble domain had been visited the night before by the mountain nemesis (alright, hardly a nemesis....perhaps annoyance.....alright, perhaps a riding challenge) - the black bear of Matson Mountain! Unwilling to let this small, and (hopefully) insignificant detail hinder their adventure in any way at all, they continued with the warm-ups. After the lovely equines were sufficiently warmed up for the efforts ahead, our riders proceeded down the path quite smoothly. Our maiden was marvelling at the fact that her trusty and spunky steed of 25+ years had given her no trouble whatsoever when that oh-so headstrong and stubborn mare stopped dead in her tracks, refusing to budge an inch. You see, they had reached the narrow passage - that boundary that marks the end of all things familiar and comforting to the rugged mountain mules and the beginning of the unknown.
Now, this had always been a problem spot, and the maiden had never let that deter her efforts before. However, this time her steed was absolutely determined not to move forward through this passage. When urged firmly (but kindly) by our maiden's heels, this charming brute would only move backward (and quite rapidly, actually), but not an inch forward. And so, our favorite little maid did something that many seasoned horse-trainers might frown upon....she gave up her efforts and succumbed to the beast's request. Plus, at this point, her father atop his very attractive and manly steed (known with admiration and respect as "Cowboy") returned from the land beyond the boulder with an interesting report.....the black bear of Matson Mountain had left several of his "calling cards" along the path, and even that daring and confident studmuffin of a horse was slightly spooked by it. So, following that old wise creed - "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" - our entrepid riders decided to do something else.....something different, but which proved just as challenging. They went off-roading.
Up and down the mountain sides, the steeds proved themselves worthy to be called the Matson's Mountain Mules. So surefooted and steady were they that the maiden found that she had no trouble trusting the mount beneath her to find her own sure footing and not careen down the incline. So many different trails to be found and followed, so little time! (So little cush on our maiden's tush.) And yet on they rode.
At one point, the manly steed in the lead (because that's what he prefers.....comes from being the only male for several acres, I suppose - in the front, it's easier to elude nagging females following!), became agitated for no apparent reason. Unwilling to let him bully the rider, our maiden's father bravely continued on the path, effusing confidence and sureness all the way. But, our little stud (after all, he's not quite full grown.....one must allow for some inexperience in a young'un like him) had so thoroughly convinced himself that there was something terrifying behind (in actuality, only his mother and our favorite little maiden...perhaps that still counts) that as he ascended the hill, he burst upon the road like a firecracker. Hoofs flying, legs hopping, torso wrenching - it was quite the rodeo to behold. In fact, such a rodeo had not been witnessed in those parts for quite some time! Our maiden watched in mute horror (okay, extremely interested concern) as the steed carried on for what seemed like forever.....about 3 minutes.
Luckily, her father is an experienced rider and kept his seat beautifully. Readjusting his feet in the stirrups, he spoke calmly (perhaps with a slight note of confused irritation tainting his voice) to the young stud. Soon, the rodeo was but an exciting memory.
Eventually (sooner eventually rather than later eventually), they returned sore and spent to the Matson Mountain Lodge, where they restored the steeds to their proper place in the paddock. And the Lodge echoed with groans and moans for several days afterward with anything involving movement. (Sometimes, a little cush on the tush could go a long way!)