What she’d really been was a glorified slave to the hunter princesses of St. Claire City’s metropolitan stables. (Except, not the glorified part) (There was nothing really glorious about it...) (Get my coffee. Re-sew this braid. Take these forms to the office. And do it before I get back.) (I can’t see my new eyelashes in these boots; shine them again) (Bae’s pooped on his tail and you need to whiten it) (Make his eyes POP) (This isn’t a non-fat extra-hot double-foam half-caf caramel macchiato with white chocolate sprinkles!) (His hooves aren't done until they're shinier than the presidential motorcade) (Get this green gunk off his bit. Again. No time to take it off- just shove your fingers in his mouth. Hurry.) (I said get me some lunch, not bring me a murder sandwich! I’m a VEGAN! Oh my god...) (...) But for all her many faults and failings, Dot was nothing if not tenacious. Not like one of the heroines in the many novels she’d read, who defied hardship in big, bold, and dogged ways- like the princess who escaped the tower and lead the army to victory on the back of a giant dragon, the cadet who heroically ran back into the exploding spaceship to rescue their trapped commander, the clever and charming young lady who went against all of moral and proper Georgian society in the name of true love- (all of whom heroically died in the end) (well- the latter was not explicitly written, but Dot assumed an early and impoverished death in accordance with the tradition demanded by Georgian novels when noble ladies married beneath them) (of course) Dot was not like that. Not bold, not brave. But she was patient. With her own meek and mild brand of resolve she not only survived the hunter princess’ reign of terror, she thr- Well, no. She didn’t really thrive; she couldn't say she survived and thrived. It was more like… survived… and… Did sort of okay. Yes. That. They taught her it was possible to sew forelock braids on head shy horses and only stab your thumbs two dozen times. That shine products shouldn’t be applied to the saddle area (unless you expressly wanted to see the person sitting in that saddle tipped in the dirt) and that there was secret inestimable value in baby wipes, mane mousse and hairdryers. She had perfected the art of emergency chrome whitening and lying when someone asked if their make up looked good. She had learned the difference between macchiato and latte. (sort of?) And, above all, the hunter princesses gave Dot her competitive start. When Cindy Chang broke her finger and had to miss a few shows, Dot was there. When Linda Walker contracted measles at the age of twenty-two, Dot saved the day. Every year during finals season- who helped Professor Rivera keep his big black mare climbing the levels? And when Kimberley Bartlett crashed her porsche on prom night and her parents grounded her- who made sure people of the hunter circuit still got to see that beautiful liver gelding they’d imported from the Netherlands float around the ring? (Dot did) Maybe she had the makings of a heroine after all. =============================