I come at you with soft footsteps and a palm full of sugar cubes. This is not what you are used to; your nostrils flare and the whites of your eyes roll and your ears twitch flat against the sides of your head. I put my hand on your neck and it’s soaked through with salt, the fear rolls off your body like heat lightning.
Some days we just stand there, you shifting your weight under my hand, trying to find your footing, me trying to give it to you.
Some days you buck and bare your teeth and all I can do is sit on the railing of the paddock and watch.