Then that great white horse did snap at him. It moved its head like a snake, and chomped on the empty air. Not a direct attack, but a threat. An intelligent threat.
The boy blinked his alarm. He was no stranger to aggressive horses, but this one was a little different. "It's fine," he tried to reassure it. "I'll be gentle."
He tried to reach for the braids again, but again the horse snapped at him, and even trotted out the way, and attempted to wheel around as far as his tied up reins would let him, in order to protect those newly acquired braids of his.
"…You don't want me to touch them?" The boy said, at a loss. The horse neighed its agreement. "But I have to. They'll say I didn't do a proper job on you if I don't see your hair all brushed."
The horse refused to budge, even with the stable boy telling it his situation. "What if I just straighten up the braids then, so they at least look proper?"
