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literature

Taming Thrasher

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By Dreemurr00   |   
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A brown dragon stallion paces in his cart, the loud sounds and smells of the circus tease the beast.
He is but a simple act for people to gawk at for fifteen minutes, then it’s back to the cage for children to be held back from getting too close.

The beast’s tail sways lazily as he tries to clear his mind of the name that that fat old ring master shouts every time it’s show time.
“Give a round of applause for the wild dragon horse himself, Thrasher!”

Thrasher, despite his name and well built, borderline scare appearance, with his sharp horns, dark wings, and wild mane and beard of hair, is actually very sweet and gentle, though he has to evoke his namesake during shows...

As thrasher thinks, a series of loud clicks sound and the side of his cage rolls open, meaning that it’s time to go wild.

Thrasher puffs as he is lead out of his cage, and towards the big top tent, where the man leading him puts on all of the uncomfortable and old tack that helps convince people that he really is the most dangerous thing in the room.

An ancient bridle made from very old leather that is at it’s breaking point is jammed around Thrasher’s head. A saddle made from cows about a hundred years ago, looking the part to match, is secured to Thrasher’s torso. Reigns and leg covers of similar age to the rest of his gear are slipped on and Thrasher revived his cue to race in with a hearty slap to his flanks.

He lets out a loud roar-like whinny before galloping into the arena as the Ring Master calls the same damned words...
“Give a round of applause for the wild dragon horse himself, Thrasher!”

Thrasher bucks despite having no one to oppose yet, that always gets the crowd excited.
Thrasher flails in the arena, around and around the ring master, then, a thought occurs to him.

Without another second of deliberation, Thrasher rushes at the ring master, the crowd cheering for a moment before gasps and screams are heard from everyone.

Security ushers every civilian out before a pair of well trained wranglers lasso Thrasher.
He does not fight against the men.
His point is proven.

The next day, the circus receives news that the ring master is okay, but he’ll have to be hospitalized for a while. Broken bones, internal bleeding, and the like will do that to you.

Thrasher lays in his cage, which has been moved from the mane circle to the back corner right by the employee tents.
All it takes now is for Thrasher to puff at someone with a slight dip in his brow, and they dash away, or worse, panic and pull their act tools, pepper spray, or whatever the dad’s carry on themselves in an attempt to protect themselves from the beast that finally won his namesake.

Shows have been canceled for weeks now, and there have been heavy lay offs. The ringmaster demands that they sell Thrasher, but no one seems willing to buy him.

A week after the sale goes up, a man arrives at the circus. The guy can’t be more than 19, and he looks like he just got to a family dinner.
The man asks to see Thrasher in his cage before deciding.
The circus peoples happily agree. If he says yes, then the circus folk will have enough money to live.

Thrasher hears the sounds of three men walking towards his cage.
The man, and two guards.

Thrasher puffs at them and shakes his head.
The guards pull their whips off of their belts.

“Hey there, big guy.”
Says the man, slowly getting closer to Thrasher in his cage, while his deep voice seems to chip away at the stubbornness that Thrasher harbors.
“Everything is alright. Would you be willing to meet with me in the big top? No whips, no uncomfortable gear, nothing but you and me getting to know each other.”

The guards are stunned that the man is bothering to ask a horse such a complex question, but they’re even more surprised when Thrasher heaves his head up and down. A clear yes.

Ten minutes later, and the man sits on the edge of the arena, Thrasher trotting in with little emotion showing.

The man stands and meets Thrasher half way across the arena, where they both come to a stop.

The man pulls a small bag out of his pocket and takes three small things out of it.
Thrasher doesn’t know what they are, but the smell nice, so he takes them from the man’s hand without question.

The man smiles and gently rubs his hand through Thrasher’s small beard, to down his neck, in and out of his mane down to his wings.

Thrasher puffs and nudges the man’s shoulder. The man rubs between Thrasher’s horns, earning a soft nicker as a reward.

“See, big guy... you’re safe.”
The man speaks to Thrashed with a kind infliction, the complete opposite of what he’s used to hearing from anyone.
“Would you mind if I move around you, getting a better look?”

Thrasher puffs and shakes his head.
The man walks around the beast, leaving his left hand on him at all times.
Slightly underfed, whipped several times shown through scars, old and uncared for tack has caused blistering all over the body, and his mane is knotted, seemingly untouched by human hands or brush.

The man returns to Thrasher’s proud and well defined head and rubs the sides of his face.
Thrasher closes his eyes and his breathing slows down.
The man smiles before stepping away.

Thrasher opens his eyes and tilts his head, confused as to what the man is doing.
“It’s alright, big guy. I’m going to go ask how much they want for you, then we can go home, alright?”

Thrasher releases another roar-like whinny as he rears up in joy.
The man pats Thrasher one more time, gives him a final sugar cube, then he moves to the exit and speaks with the guards.

One of the guards leaves to get someone as the other speaks with the man.

Ten minutes later, and the man is handing a wad of cash off to the ringmaster, who is now wheelchair bound, before he comes to the ring to retrieve Thrasher.

“Would you mind if I put one of my bridles on you? It’d make it a bit easier for us to go the same way.”
Thrasher heaves his head up and down, glad that he won’t be forced into the ancient bridle ever again.

The man pulls a lime green bridle out of his bag and lets Thrasher smell it before he gently slips it over his head, careful around the rash covered bits.
The man links a light leather lead to the bridle as he begins to lead for way out of the arena.

The wheelchair master has been rolled away, probably to avoid any interaction with Thrasher as he leaves one last time.

The man and Thrasher reach a well used truck with a trailer attached to it’s rear.
“Alright, big guy. Ready to live a good life with bubba?”
The horse nickers and hops up into the trailer, eager to get away from the place.
“Good boy.”
© 2020 Dreemurr00
I recently revived this bad boy from Paxiolite here on DeviantArt.
Bellow is the link to where he is from, and I hope you all enjoy the story. (Green Sail)

www.deviantart.com/paxiolite/a…
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PaxioliteStudent Filmographer

Awwww, that's really sweet. :3