Theodore ran her hand along the shoulder of the horse, cool fingers pressed into her knuckles, gentle but guiding. His tone was always calm and low around horses -- around most people, really, something he'd learnt at a young age -- and almost soothing. He knew little to nothing of Astoria's experience with horses, only that she was afraid of them, that she knew what was dangerous about them. He tried to assure her.
"The reason we come at a horse from this angle, in addition to it better seeing you, is because its legs cannot kick in this direction." He kept her hand steady at the horse's neck, and directed her attention down to the powerful, but thin front legs. "Not all injuries are foreseeable, but many can be prevented with care." And he intended to take very good care of her.
"I'm sure she doesn't mind. We should put a harness on her, and then you can give her a sugar cube if you like."