August Week Four: Scroll
Bella Luna& Dazzling Dame. Frozen Motion& Wish Upon A Star. Jabberwock& Fleet Majesty.
dazzling moon
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
It was still dark out when Reese and Justin guided their horses onto the rolling turf track. Ripley and The Devil walked casually behind them. The bay mare snorted, bowing her neck and blowing through her nostrils. She looked like a flame breathing dragon and the appearance certainly fit her personality today. The powerful bay wanted to run and Ripley wasn't letting her. The head trainer trotted the bay alongside the turf track, leaving her riders behind. They had been given perfect instructions for today's workouts. Ripley was not riding any race horses today. Gallops were done with yesterday. It was race day. Today two new horses would make their acquaintance with her tracks and riders. Today was going to be interesting.
Reese watched as Ripley rode away. Her own silver filly was kicking up her heels in the early morning. Bella Luna was so full of herself today. It was almost unbelievable. She'd finally done it! Reese had notched her first U.S. victory aboard a filly who gotten into plenty of trouble in the Slake Stakes. Reese's nerves had gotten the better of her for most of the race. She'd guided Lulu into spots that had caused backing up, brushing, intimidation. And then the final quarter of a miler, Reese had pulled it all together. Lulu had been apart of her first run. Bella Luna had notched a gutsy dead heat victory that would go down in one of Reese's most memorable moments. Reese stroked the excited filly's neck, grinning when she playfully ducked her head down and accepted the affection with modesty. Two more wins and Lulu would be on the same par as Cross, Crow, and Red. Reese could hardly wait to get her there.
Justin was also pleased with his very special mount. Dazzling Dame was his first race horse. Two more months would pass before he got to ride her in a race as a bug-boy. Ripley did nothing in Dame's races. The filly just knew how to roll and her lessons with Justin had stuck. She was coming off a sharp victory in the Beauty Cup and would look to extend her win record to six. Two more victories and she would be a grade three race horse. The young inner city kid Justin had once been was expanding to so much more with Ripley Marsh's help. Dame had yet to finish out of the top two. Her next race was in tomorrow's Grade Four Turf Autumn Cup. She would be prepared off of the blitz and gallop Ripley had planned for her.
The strong dark bay let out whopping buck, screaming to catch Lulu's attention. The silver-dollar filly flicked her ears backward, but paraded strongly beneath Reese. Reese snickered at Justin. Bella Luna was in too much of her own world to take notice of the Jessie Jame's filly. It pleased Reese immensely. The black haired woman asked Lulu to step into a quick trot. Her trot was choppy and her knees were lifting extremely high. She wanted to gun it today. Reese wanted to oblige. But a mile gallop would come before the three furlong blitz. The woman crooned to the filly, easing her fingers off of the reins. Lulu moved, uninhibited by Reese's hands on the bit, quietly and smoothly. Reese clasped her hands together, admiring the intelligence in the Seastruck filly. Not many two year olds were capable of going without any sort of control. It just didn't happen. But Lulu was something else. It would take a for her to catch on to racing, but when she did, Reese was positive her audience would be impressed beyond words.
The pair of horses moved as one into a canter, Lulu's graceful, Dame's dominating and free. Both fillies eyed each other ferociously, angry, wanting to kick into gear already. They had athlete's blood. Neither would finish until they had run the other straight into the ground. Justin kept Dame locked down with light hands on the reins, while Reese spoke softly in Lulu's ears, grinning when the filly merely strode out and relaxed. Reese's hands still rested lightly on her thighs, her body tipped forward. This was her style. Lulu had picked up on it the last quarter mile of her last race. That had been the turning point in this relationship.
Justin wished he could have Reese's easy going nature. However, he didn't quite understand it. His connection with Dame burned up the bit through the reins and into his fingers. She was tough and brilliant, but giving and kind in action. It was what made Dame a team player only to him. She had full control in Ripley's races which proved for difficulties, but Justin knew the filly. She was his very soul. He ran his palms over her stiff neck, smiling broadly when it tensed to receive the affection while her ears flattened in irritation. She was his bipolar filly.
The canter turned into a strong gallop fairly quickly. Dazzling Dame turned it on first, her mouth flinging out wide, lather dumping from the corners of her mouth. Her eyes blazed briefly when she met Justin's resistance. Justin coaxed her back just as Reese asked Lulu to jump out. The snowy filly was immediately at Dame's throat latch and threatening. She was a force to be reckoned with, her new found confidence carrying her farther than she had dared to go before. Dame bared her teeth around the bit, flashed her angry eyes, but a quick retort from Justin had her refocusing. The horses moved confidently up and over the hills, their legs meeting the push and grind with power and strength. Their speed stayed a consistent level for all of there annoyance with one another.
Justin was pleased. This was extremely important for Dame. Bella Luna was already good at relaxing. Reese's addition would further her stalking capabilities. However, for Dame, this lesson was one she was just beginning to latch onto. She'd won her races by going full out and lost others because of the same problem. There was no one to run with her so she merely ran herself into the ground. Now, even with Lulu pressing on her like a wall, Dame was relaxed, her neck fluttered with tension once in a while. She took the light pressure on the bit with a grain of salt. She was finding out that manners were not so bad. Dame whipped her tail over her rump, stinging Justin's arm. His eyes narrowed. Well apparently not all manners had been learned.
Reese was becoming more and more impressed with Lulu. Brooks had told her that the Sea Struck filly was always relaxed and handy on the bit. She hadn't discovered how handy until that first race. Whatever slightest cue Reese had given her, Lulu had followed to the "t". Some of those directions had simply failed and resulted in Lulu floundering for some direction and Reese baffled with herself. The black haired woman felt her eyes harden every time Dame's eyes flickered over to Lulu. The Jessie James' offspring would be more than happy to take a chunk out of her girl. However, Mama Reese was here. And Lulu was quickly becoming her baby.
The woman finally picked up the reins, noting that Lulu's ears immediately snapped to attention. Dame quickly picked up on the white filly's reaction and muscled herself up in order to bolt. Reese let out a soft breath, careful to not give any instruction whatsoever to Bella Luna. The filly was awake and that was all that counted.
The fillies flew over the track, eyes sharpened to one another's reactions. Their legs pumped over the ground, their stamina was at top level at the moment. The two mile gallops had been extended to two and a half now that Reese was around to take up some stock. Their nostrils widened and their chests filled with pride. The mile was almost over. They could feel it in their guts and in their riders' auras. The horses began to snort, ears pinned.
Justin let Dame go. The dark bay daughter zipped forward, glorifying in her release. Her thick frame was immediately in his hands. Justin couldn't help but feel her dark abilities. She was so filled with raw talent that it was almost tempting to just let her do what she wanted with her innate speed. Reese shook her dark locks as Dame moved away. Lulu became rank, head being pulled back even by Reese's light grip on the reins. The woman had no choice but to let go. The filly became a phantom surging away from the morning light as it passed over Witch Creek's hills. She tore the grass up and immediately encountered Dame.
The three furlong straight spread out before the fillies. And they were in a deadlock.
Dazzling Dame put on a good burst of speed with Lulu hooked up with her. Justin could not keep her from her nature as long as he liked to pretend. But he was surprised how well Lulu was keeping up. The ghostly filly did not let a whisker of Dame's get ahead of her for too long. He flicked his concentration to Reese and snorted when he saw that the woman still had the gray caught up. How?
The fillies flew across the turf, rising to meet the demands of speed and stamina. Stamina was hardly a challenge at this point. And both of them had worlds and worlds of speed. It was just a matter of who had a little more on this day. Lulu's leaner legs brought her to the front quickly. Dame's stocky legs move faster in order to keep up. Lulu was not quite trying. Dame wasn't either, but she was reaching her limit. Dame's talent was in her high cruising speed. She ran horses into the ground and outran horses, such as Lulu, to the wire first. Lulu's late kick was stronger than Dame's. It was a different kind of talent.
Reese released the knot at the base of Lulu's reins. The gray stormed by Dame. First by a neck then a half length and then a length. Reese no longer felt the need to push the light gray filly any further. She pulled her back in and stared in amazement when Dame roared right on by, a squeal coming from somewhere deep in her body. Oh the filly was furious. Lulu came back in control and soon was being ridden once again with no hands, only seat. Reese leaned down and rubbed her hands all over Lulu's cooling body. She was amazing this one.
Dame kept going until she was satisfied she'd finally buried Bella Luna. Justin's face was ashen as he came back. Not quite with fear, but shock. The Jessie James filly had been passed, but, man, she'd hit another gear just after she'd been passed. He'd never known she'd possessed that kind of gear. It had been bloody brilliant, something Infinite Warcry would have possessed as well. Lulu had beaten them to the three furlong marker first and powerfully, but Dame had discovered another notch to her already strong belt.
Reese watched as Ripley rode away. Her own silver filly was kicking up her heels in the early morning. Bella Luna was so full of herself today. It was almost unbelievable. She'd finally done it! Reese had notched her first U.S. victory aboard a filly who gotten into plenty of trouble in the Slake Stakes. Reese's nerves had gotten the better of her for most of the race. She'd guided Lulu into spots that had caused backing up, brushing, intimidation. And then the final quarter of a miler, Reese had pulled it all together. Lulu had been apart of her first run. Bella Luna had notched a gutsy dead heat victory that would go down in one of Reese's most memorable moments. Reese stroked the excited filly's neck, grinning when she playfully ducked her head down and accepted the affection with modesty. Two more wins and Lulu would be on the same par as Cross, Crow, and Red. Reese could hardly wait to get her there.
Justin was also pleased with his very special mount. Dazzling Dame was his first race horse. Two more months would pass before he got to ride her in a race as a bug-boy. Ripley did nothing in Dame's races. The filly just knew how to roll and her lessons with Justin had stuck. She was coming off a sharp victory in the Beauty Cup and would look to extend her win record to six. Two more victories and she would be a grade three race horse. The young inner city kid Justin had once been was expanding to so much more with Ripley Marsh's help. Dame had yet to finish out of the top two. Her next race was in tomorrow's Grade Four Turf Autumn Cup. She would be prepared off of the blitz and gallop Ripley had planned for her.
The strong dark bay let out whopping buck, screaming to catch Lulu's attention. The silver-dollar filly flicked her ears backward, but paraded strongly beneath Reese. Reese snickered at Justin. Bella Luna was in too much of her own world to take notice of the Jessie Jame's filly. It pleased Reese immensely. The black haired woman asked Lulu to step into a quick trot. Her trot was choppy and her knees were lifting extremely high. She wanted to gun it today. Reese wanted to oblige. But a mile gallop would come before the three furlong blitz. The woman crooned to the filly, easing her fingers off of the reins. Lulu moved, uninhibited by Reese's hands on the bit, quietly and smoothly. Reese clasped her hands together, admiring the intelligence in the Seastruck filly. Not many two year olds were capable of going without any sort of control. It just didn't happen. But Lulu was something else. It would take a for her to catch on to racing, but when she did, Reese was positive her audience would be impressed beyond words.
The pair of horses moved as one into a canter, Lulu's graceful, Dame's dominating and free. Both fillies eyed each other ferociously, angry, wanting to kick into gear already. They had athlete's blood. Neither would finish until they had run the other straight into the ground. Justin kept Dame locked down with light hands on the reins, while Reese spoke softly in Lulu's ears, grinning when the filly merely strode out and relaxed. Reese's hands still rested lightly on her thighs, her body tipped forward. This was her style. Lulu had picked up on it the last quarter mile of her last race. That had been the turning point in this relationship.
Justin wished he could have Reese's easy going nature. However, he didn't quite understand it. His connection with Dame burned up the bit through the reins and into his fingers. She was tough and brilliant, but giving and kind in action. It was what made Dame a team player only to him. She had full control in Ripley's races which proved for difficulties, but Justin knew the filly. She was his very soul. He ran his palms over her stiff neck, smiling broadly when it tensed to receive the affection while her ears flattened in irritation. She was his bipolar filly.
The canter turned into a strong gallop fairly quickly. Dazzling Dame turned it on first, her mouth flinging out wide, lather dumping from the corners of her mouth. Her eyes blazed briefly when she met Justin's resistance. Justin coaxed her back just as Reese asked Lulu to jump out. The snowy filly was immediately at Dame's throat latch and threatening. She was a force to be reckoned with, her new found confidence carrying her farther than she had dared to go before. Dame bared her teeth around the bit, flashed her angry eyes, but a quick retort from Justin had her refocusing. The horses moved confidently up and over the hills, their legs meeting the push and grind with power and strength. Their speed stayed a consistent level for all of there annoyance with one another.
Justin was pleased. This was extremely important for Dame. Bella Luna was already good at relaxing. Reese's addition would further her stalking capabilities. However, for Dame, this lesson was one she was just beginning to latch onto. She'd won her races by going full out and lost others because of the same problem. There was no one to run with her so she merely ran herself into the ground. Now, even with Lulu pressing on her like a wall, Dame was relaxed, her neck fluttered with tension once in a while. She took the light pressure on the bit with a grain of salt. She was finding out that manners were not so bad. Dame whipped her tail over her rump, stinging Justin's arm. His eyes narrowed. Well apparently not all manners had been learned.
Reese was becoming more and more impressed with Lulu. Brooks had told her that the Sea Struck filly was always relaxed and handy on the bit. She hadn't discovered how handy until that first race. Whatever slightest cue Reese had given her, Lulu had followed to the "t". Some of those directions had simply failed and resulted in Lulu floundering for some direction and Reese baffled with herself. The black haired woman felt her eyes harden every time Dame's eyes flickered over to Lulu. The Jessie James' offspring would be more than happy to take a chunk out of her girl. However, Mama Reese was here. And Lulu was quickly becoming her baby.
The woman finally picked up the reins, noting that Lulu's ears immediately snapped to attention. Dame quickly picked up on the white filly's reaction and muscled herself up in order to bolt. Reese let out a soft breath, careful to not give any instruction whatsoever to Bella Luna. The filly was awake and that was all that counted.
The fillies flew over the track, eyes sharpened to one another's reactions. Their legs pumped over the ground, their stamina was at top level at the moment. The two mile gallops had been extended to two and a half now that Reese was around to take up some stock. Their nostrils widened and their chests filled with pride. The mile was almost over. They could feel it in their guts and in their riders' auras. The horses began to snort, ears pinned.
Justin let Dame go. The dark bay daughter zipped forward, glorifying in her release. Her thick frame was immediately in his hands. Justin couldn't help but feel her dark abilities. She was so filled with raw talent that it was almost tempting to just let her do what she wanted with her innate speed. Reese shook her dark locks as Dame moved away. Lulu became rank, head being pulled back even by Reese's light grip on the reins. The woman had no choice but to let go. The filly became a phantom surging away from the morning light as it passed over Witch Creek's hills. She tore the grass up and immediately encountered Dame.
The three furlong straight spread out before the fillies. And they were in a deadlock.
Dazzling Dame put on a good burst of speed with Lulu hooked up with her. Justin could not keep her from her nature as long as he liked to pretend. But he was surprised how well Lulu was keeping up. The ghostly filly did not let a whisker of Dame's get ahead of her for too long. He flicked his concentration to Reese and snorted when he saw that the woman still had the gray caught up. How?
The fillies flew across the turf, rising to meet the demands of speed and stamina. Stamina was hardly a challenge at this point. And both of them had worlds and worlds of speed. It was just a matter of who had a little more on this day. Lulu's leaner legs brought her to the front quickly. Dame's stocky legs move faster in order to keep up. Lulu was not quite trying. Dame wasn't either, but she was reaching her limit. Dame's talent was in her high cruising speed. She ran horses into the ground and outran horses, such as Lulu, to the wire first. Lulu's late kick was stronger than Dame's. It was a different kind of talent.
Reese released the knot at the base of Lulu's reins. The gray stormed by Dame. First by a neck then a half length and then a length. Reese no longer felt the need to push the light gray filly any further. She pulled her back in and stared in amazement when Dame roared right on by, a squeal coming from somewhere deep in her body. Oh the filly was furious. Lulu came back in control and soon was being ridden once again with no hands, only seat. Reese leaned down and rubbed her hands all over Lulu's cooling body. She was amazing this one.
Dame kept going until she was satisfied she'd finally buried Bella Luna. Justin's face was ashen as he came back. Not quite with fear, but shock. The Jessie James filly had been passed, but, man, she'd hit another gear just after she'd been passed. He'd never known she'd possessed that kind of gear. It had been bloody brilliant, something Infinite Warcry would have possessed as well. Lulu had beaten them to the three furlong marker first and powerfully, but Dame had discovered another notch to her already strong belt.
frozen wish
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Wish Upon A Star and Frozen Motion were on two very separate levels of racing history at the moment. Frozen Motion had a clear role in the Witch Creek racing string and was at the top of everyone's list when they thought of competitive horses, dirt or turf. Wish Upon A Star was near the bottom of the heap even though the bottom was pretty good. The perfect looking bay filly had won two races, finished third in one and finished out of the money in three races. The filly was surrounded by competitive two year old horses in her very own barn. If there was a major dirt race at The Wire, Cross, Mastermind or Red Herring would be there. If there was a major turf race at The Wire, GS Royal Crown, Bella Luna or Mastermind would be there. Wish could not simply catch a break or make a clear cut break through.
The bay filly was a puzzle for her connections. She ran straight as an arrow, fast enough to win and never had behaved greenly even in her limited starts. There had to be the perfect distance for her, the key that would slip into her lock and click. However, it just wasn't happening for her. The staff had met a couple times already to discuss Wish. The Everyday Hero filly had the stuff to do damage if she found her niche. Problem was that there were limited opportunities outside of nine and ten furlong races. Maggie patted Wish's athletic neck, blue eyes quietly scanning the terrain. There would be opportunities galore for the beautiful gal later on and next year. One of the major reasons Indian Darling had also been placed on the shelf for the rest of the year, besides the injury, was to wait out the shorter distanced races.
Frozen Motion and Ashes to Ashes were proof that talent could explode later on in the career once races became more available. Brooks listened to Maggie's silence, taking it all in. The blond haired woman was really pondering over the filly. The meeting had just been an hour ago. Wish was not a total loss as a two year old. She had won two races. It had taken Lulu more than half the year to notch her second career victory. But her performances had been stellar. Wish either did really incredible or poor with winning efforts. Horses such as those made Brooks appreciate horses such as Frozen Motion all the more. His fantastic dappled gray colt was the master of consistency and powerful performances. He showed up every time he raced.
He'd only run twice since capturing the Belmont Turf Classic, winning the Yinz Stakes and finishing a nose behind Infinite Warcry in the Breeder's Stakes at The Wire. He was ready for more after a few weeks off. He was fresh and strong. Mature and mighty were what the colt had managed to improve on over his weeks off. Brooks smiled as Freeze bowed his neck. He wasn't quite the different animal, but he knew he was quickly becoming a fan fave. His next starts would come in the Autumn Cup Grade Three Turf and September Week One's Universal Cup against arch rival Infinite Warcry. He was more than ready to take on both races.
As Ripley had done with the last workout, the head trainer now rode out alongside the turf track, one hand holding binoculars to her cat green gaze. Her horse of choice was none other than Indian Darling. The filly was almost cat-like in her movements. She strode over the turf, eyes wide and neck bowed. She was eager to move into a quicker gait, but Ripley kept her to a stern walk. Doctors orders. The Native Flame filly was all business. She'd been watching everyone else leave for races and workouts for the past months and she wanted in on the action. Ripley couldn't stand to look at the filly just looking so dejected in the stall anymore. Her wild nature called for other things besides stalls and round pens. This was the quickest way to satisfy that needs.
That filly is going to be something next year Brooks. The man turned and acknowledged Maggie's flashy voice. She's small now, but you can feel it pulsing from her. Ripley doesn't pick out any duds. That's how I know Wish is going to be something. Maggie stroked her hands over the mahogany coat of Wish. The filly leaned into the pressure so in love with affection. Brooks grinned. Wish was a keeper no matter how she did on the track. Success was only a plus. Ripley wants a mile and a quarter gallop with a four furlong blitz. Start the four furlongs at the straightaway. Ripley claims she doesn't want Darla to have a heart attack.
Maggie knew it was the other way around. Lately, Ripley was worried about injuries. The season was long and most everyone ran hard all season. September was not the time to come up with any problems. Breeders Cup was only three short months away. The woman and man asked their horses to pick up easy going canter-gallops. Both horses were extremely willing to please and immediately stepped out. Freeze tucked his nose to his chest and Wish extended hers, contrary to complete obedience. Their mile warm up to the turf track had consisted of jogging. Both horses were ready to let loose and roll, but they still had another mile. Endurance was more important than straight speed.
Wish relaxed into the motion of cantering, ears pricked ahead all the while. She was an easy filly to please and always seemed to be happy doing whatever it was she was doing. She was tough and there for you when you needed her to move and that was part of what made her Wish. Nothing got under her skin, nothing bothered or touched her. She was all heart and courage, all gentle kindness. She had a competitive streak a mile high. Maturity would help that to come about. Maggie kept her hands soft on the filly's mouth. Wish flicked her tail when Freeze drew near and away, but did nothing else. Happy as a clam.
Brooks had the complete opposite of Wish at the moment beneath him. Frozen Motion was burning as if he'd been shocked by electricity. The dappled gray rocked back and forth, side to side. His gallop was horrendous and had always been so. Brooks ground his teeth when the horse hit a rough patch and lurched forward. Freeze had been a little rough around the edges for a while now. His loss to Infinite Warcry had rubbed him the wrong way. He'd been used to winning and he wasn't liking the losing part of his career. The black colt shouldn't have been able to catch him in the Breeder's Stakes, but somehow he had. And now Brooks was the one paying the price. They would have their revenge in the Universal Cup in two weeks. First was the Autumn Cup and the chance to shave some of the rebellious edge off of his powerful colt.
The pair galloped strongly up and over the hills, the green rolling out like a carpet before them. The midday sun was up and it glinted off of their dappled hides. The world was spread before these horses and they almost appreciated it as much as their humans did. The riders smiled in silence, admiring the view for its beauty and majesty. The horses cruised downward, magicking the view away. Speed was picked and launched to higher heights when they made a break for the second hill. Wish getting a nose down in front of Maggie. She smiled. Wish did have a competitive streak.
Freeze reacted boldly against Wish's run for the lead. He bolted forward, pulling strongly against Brooks' hands, nearly cranking his head backwards. His dark mane brushed against his rider's face. Brooks laughed at the tickle and began to talk to him. Gradually the dappled gray settled back into hand, but he seemed to grumble inwardly. He was tired of behaving. He missed the track, missed the races, missed the winner's circle. Frozen Motion bumped hard into Wish in his frustrations. The filly pushed back just as violently, Maggie nearly bounced over the opposite side. Her fancy filly was no slouch. Her ears were pinned back into her black mane as they bounded up the hill that marked the mile and a quarter. If Freeze wanted to play dirty, Wish would be more than happy to play dirty as well.
The horses skidded quickly down the hillside, their butts sliding over the turf, tails dragging out behind them. Both of them had mastered Witch Creek's training track by now. The second they'd landed on their hooves both horses pushed off like rockets. Wish and Freeze bobbled together over the turf, not quite prepared for their own power. Maggie and Brooks held on for dear life as they athletically pulled it all together and leaped out into full stride.
Frozen Motion got to the lead first, poking his nose then head in front. His body was geared for a quick turn of foot. Wish's body was made for the long sweeping move. She naturally fell back a length, eyes widening in irritation, but not out of fear of losing. Freeze rolled over the track, stride expanding. He was a natural over the turf, brilliant and compellingly beautiful. Brooks dipped his head alongside the colt's pulsating neck, feeling the heat beat that stormed beneath the mottled hide. He glanced backward to see that Wish had finally hit her stride and was coming on the far outside. Maggie was sure to keep a wide berth from Frozen Motion. There was no need for violence before the big races.
Wish swept over the ground, her hooves gripping the turf and then chucking it back in the opposite direction. Her stride was absolutely grand. Her perfect conformation lead to a perfect stride. It was smooth as glass and she was effortless. That was one thing Maggie looked forward to. There was a maturity about this filly that just screamed class and lack of effort. She didn't have to try as hard as she did. When everything clicked, Wish's raw talent and ability would take over for her over-thinking. Running was natural for her. She just needed to be natural. Maggie played with the filly's black mane, booting her forward a little more, putting her head to head with Frozen Motion.
Freeze was extremely prepared for this challenge. He'd learned long ago to not underestimate his opponents. The silver engine roared to life, spurting forward, revealing another gear that had been hidden to the outside eye. Wish went with him this time, kicking into her untapped gears as well. She did not let Freeze get away for the life of him. Rather she stayed with him, eyes bright and excited, nostrils twitching. Maggie could feel something clicking within that intelligent head of hers. Freeze pinned his ears, kicking up two gears and putting a length and a half between himself the clingy Everyday Hero filly. Brooks shook his head. This new show-off attitude that Frozen Motion possessed was something else.
Maggie glared in Ripley's direction, throwing a hand out in annoyance toward Freeze. Ripley was shaking her head aboard Darla. Wish finished up the four furlongs powerfully, not tired or defeated. Something had indeed clicked. She was ready to go for her next starts... More than ready and she was going to prove that she belonged in the top of Witch Creek's two year old class.
The bay filly was a puzzle for her connections. She ran straight as an arrow, fast enough to win and never had behaved greenly even in her limited starts. There had to be the perfect distance for her, the key that would slip into her lock and click. However, it just wasn't happening for her. The staff had met a couple times already to discuss Wish. The Everyday Hero filly had the stuff to do damage if she found her niche. Problem was that there were limited opportunities outside of nine and ten furlong races. Maggie patted Wish's athletic neck, blue eyes quietly scanning the terrain. There would be opportunities galore for the beautiful gal later on and next year. One of the major reasons Indian Darling had also been placed on the shelf for the rest of the year, besides the injury, was to wait out the shorter distanced races.
Frozen Motion and Ashes to Ashes were proof that talent could explode later on in the career once races became more available. Brooks listened to Maggie's silence, taking it all in. The blond haired woman was really pondering over the filly. The meeting had just been an hour ago. Wish was not a total loss as a two year old. She had won two races. It had taken Lulu more than half the year to notch her second career victory. But her performances had been stellar. Wish either did really incredible or poor with winning efforts. Horses such as those made Brooks appreciate horses such as Frozen Motion all the more. His fantastic dappled gray colt was the master of consistency and powerful performances. He showed up every time he raced.
He'd only run twice since capturing the Belmont Turf Classic, winning the Yinz Stakes and finishing a nose behind Infinite Warcry in the Breeder's Stakes at The Wire. He was ready for more after a few weeks off. He was fresh and strong. Mature and mighty were what the colt had managed to improve on over his weeks off. Brooks smiled as Freeze bowed his neck. He wasn't quite the different animal, but he knew he was quickly becoming a fan fave. His next starts would come in the Autumn Cup Grade Three Turf and September Week One's Universal Cup against arch rival Infinite Warcry. He was more than ready to take on both races.
As Ripley had done with the last workout, the head trainer now rode out alongside the turf track, one hand holding binoculars to her cat green gaze. Her horse of choice was none other than Indian Darling. The filly was almost cat-like in her movements. She strode over the turf, eyes wide and neck bowed. She was eager to move into a quicker gait, but Ripley kept her to a stern walk. Doctors orders. The Native Flame filly was all business. She'd been watching everyone else leave for races and workouts for the past months and she wanted in on the action. Ripley couldn't stand to look at the filly just looking so dejected in the stall anymore. Her wild nature called for other things besides stalls and round pens. This was the quickest way to satisfy that needs.
That filly is going to be something next year Brooks. The man turned and acknowledged Maggie's flashy voice. She's small now, but you can feel it pulsing from her. Ripley doesn't pick out any duds. That's how I know Wish is going to be something. Maggie stroked her hands over the mahogany coat of Wish. The filly leaned into the pressure so in love with affection. Brooks grinned. Wish was a keeper no matter how she did on the track. Success was only a plus. Ripley wants a mile and a quarter gallop with a four furlong blitz. Start the four furlongs at the straightaway. Ripley claims she doesn't want Darla to have a heart attack.
Maggie knew it was the other way around. Lately, Ripley was worried about injuries. The season was long and most everyone ran hard all season. September was not the time to come up with any problems. Breeders Cup was only three short months away. The woman and man asked their horses to pick up easy going canter-gallops. Both horses were extremely willing to please and immediately stepped out. Freeze tucked his nose to his chest and Wish extended hers, contrary to complete obedience. Their mile warm up to the turf track had consisted of jogging. Both horses were ready to let loose and roll, but they still had another mile. Endurance was more important than straight speed.
Wish relaxed into the motion of cantering, ears pricked ahead all the while. She was an easy filly to please and always seemed to be happy doing whatever it was she was doing. She was tough and there for you when you needed her to move and that was part of what made her Wish. Nothing got under her skin, nothing bothered or touched her. She was all heart and courage, all gentle kindness. She had a competitive streak a mile high. Maturity would help that to come about. Maggie kept her hands soft on the filly's mouth. Wish flicked her tail when Freeze drew near and away, but did nothing else. Happy as a clam.
Brooks had the complete opposite of Wish at the moment beneath him. Frozen Motion was burning as if he'd been shocked by electricity. The dappled gray rocked back and forth, side to side. His gallop was horrendous and had always been so. Brooks ground his teeth when the horse hit a rough patch and lurched forward. Freeze had been a little rough around the edges for a while now. His loss to Infinite Warcry had rubbed him the wrong way. He'd been used to winning and he wasn't liking the losing part of his career. The black colt shouldn't have been able to catch him in the Breeder's Stakes, but somehow he had. And now Brooks was the one paying the price. They would have their revenge in the Universal Cup in two weeks. First was the Autumn Cup and the chance to shave some of the rebellious edge off of his powerful colt.
The pair galloped strongly up and over the hills, the green rolling out like a carpet before them. The midday sun was up and it glinted off of their dappled hides. The world was spread before these horses and they almost appreciated it as much as their humans did. The riders smiled in silence, admiring the view for its beauty and majesty. The horses cruised downward, magicking the view away. Speed was picked and launched to higher heights when they made a break for the second hill. Wish getting a nose down in front of Maggie. She smiled. Wish did have a competitive streak.
Freeze reacted boldly against Wish's run for the lead. He bolted forward, pulling strongly against Brooks' hands, nearly cranking his head backwards. His dark mane brushed against his rider's face. Brooks laughed at the tickle and began to talk to him. Gradually the dappled gray settled back into hand, but he seemed to grumble inwardly. He was tired of behaving. He missed the track, missed the races, missed the winner's circle. Frozen Motion bumped hard into Wish in his frustrations. The filly pushed back just as violently, Maggie nearly bounced over the opposite side. Her fancy filly was no slouch. Her ears were pinned back into her black mane as they bounded up the hill that marked the mile and a quarter. If Freeze wanted to play dirty, Wish would be more than happy to play dirty as well.
The horses skidded quickly down the hillside, their butts sliding over the turf, tails dragging out behind them. Both of them had mastered Witch Creek's training track by now. The second they'd landed on their hooves both horses pushed off like rockets. Wish and Freeze bobbled together over the turf, not quite prepared for their own power. Maggie and Brooks held on for dear life as they athletically pulled it all together and leaped out into full stride.
Frozen Motion got to the lead first, poking his nose then head in front. His body was geared for a quick turn of foot. Wish's body was made for the long sweeping move. She naturally fell back a length, eyes widening in irritation, but not out of fear of losing. Freeze rolled over the track, stride expanding. He was a natural over the turf, brilliant and compellingly beautiful. Brooks dipped his head alongside the colt's pulsating neck, feeling the heat beat that stormed beneath the mottled hide. He glanced backward to see that Wish had finally hit her stride and was coming on the far outside. Maggie was sure to keep a wide berth from Frozen Motion. There was no need for violence before the big races.
Wish swept over the ground, her hooves gripping the turf and then chucking it back in the opposite direction. Her stride was absolutely grand. Her perfect conformation lead to a perfect stride. It was smooth as glass and she was effortless. That was one thing Maggie looked forward to. There was a maturity about this filly that just screamed class and lack of effort. She didn't have to try as hard as she did. When everything clicked, Wish's raw talent and ability would take over for her over-thinking. Running was natural for her. She just needed to be natural. Maggie played with the filly's black mane, booting her forward a little more, putting her head to head with Frozen Motion.
Freeze was extremely prepared for this challenge. He'd learned long ago to not underestimate his opponents. The silver engine roared to life, spurting forward, revealing another gear that had been hidden to the outside eye. Wish went with him this time, kicking into her untapped gears as well. She did not let Freeze get away for the life of him. Rather she stayed with him, eyes bright and excited, nostrils twitching. Maggie could feel something clicking within that intelligent head of hers. Freeze pinned his ears, kicking up two gears and putting a length and a half between himself the clingy Everyday Hero filly. Brooks shook his head. This new show-off attitude that Frozen Motion possessed was something else.
Maggie glared in Ripley's direction, throwing a hand out in annoyance toward Freeze. Ripley was shaking her head aboard Darla. Wish finished up the four furlongs powerfully, not tired or defeated. Something had indeed clicked. She was ready to go for her next starts... More than ready and she was going to prove that she belonged in the top of Witch Creek's two year old class.
night moves
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
The night surrounded Witch Creek like a cloak. Low black clouds swirled beneath the brilliant full moon. The cookie-cutter wings of bats flew around the iridescent glow, a natural part of the night time's imagery. They hunted little insects and then headed back to their caves with their stomachs filled to the brim. The leafless branches of trees surrounding the dirt track fluttered in the breeze. The moon glittered on the human made track rail, providing an unearthly quality to an already unearthly place.
Witch Creek was a place for phantoms and ghosts, fairies and creatures of the night. Its emerald green hills of the day were the blackest of blacks. The creek bubbled like some witch's brew, filled with magic and poison alike. Witch Creek was never quiet, always active. Horses danced about the paddocks, yearlings whinnied to one another, stallions trumpeted. It was peaceful because of the equine beings. Ripley had added three more recently to her number. A yearling, a two year old and a three year old. The two older horses had been galloping for a few days on the trails, exploiting the rolling land for what it was. Now it was time to meet the track.
Ripley sat aboard a brilliantly white filly besides the gaping entrance of the dirt track. Candid Silver was a three year old whose heart had never been at the track, but whose beauty and personality would be amazing to pass onto her offspring. The near white filly glowed in the dark, ears pricked at what was coming through the fog towards them. Ripley crooned to her, stroking the glow, touching that beautiful magic. Candid Silver nickered, creating more of a spell.
A melodic nicker returned from the darkness. It was tempting and seductive and belonged to currently the most interesting and magical colt in the string. Ripley's cat green eyes strained to see the beast that would come from the night. It was only Jabberwock whom made such loving gestures to the ladies of Witch Creek. He stepped from beneath a tree, touched by the moons glow. His dark bay coat in the day looked black in this lighting. There was no white on him and he looked ever the haunted horseman's mount. He'd been galloping superbly all week and he was ready to take his place at Witch Creek, the first son of Native Flame to race for Ripley Marsh. Reese met Ripley's gaze, her playful orbs glowed excitedly. The woman was beyond ready for a chance to prove herself. She'd done well so far and was honored that Ripley would think of sticking her on the bay three year old.
Just take him out on the track Reese and jog him a mile. We're not going to work these two together quite yet. I want to see what he's got. So after you warm up come back to me. Reese nodded and Ripley watched as the 17.0 hand bay strutted by Candid Silver, who followed him with her eyes, clearly enchanted by the horse and the night. Ripley turned back at the sound of some sticks cracking in the woods. She did not have to work as hard to locate the second new horse. The two year old Fleet Majesty was spectacular in appearance at Witch Creek. Her iron gray frame was doused in light silver dollar coins, her mane and tail melted from the same iron gray to the brilliant white of snow. She was beautiful and way more than what Ripley had first expected when she'd purchased the filly from Intrepid. She pranced delicately through the fallen leaves, carrying her rider, Ripley's knight, toward the track. Brooks was in his most pleased state. He had lost Bella Luna to Reese, but had gained another special filly in the process.
A filly worth only 20 grand who had already shaped up within four days of being at Witch Creek. Same directions Brooks. Ripley backed Silvi up, allowing Mage to pass out onto the track. She moved like a doe over the track, trying to figure out if she even liked the dirt surface. She let out a string of three neighs, creating a ruckus all over the property. Jabberwock was snorting as he rounded the final turn, moving at a rapid jog. Reese was enjoying him immensely. She hardly had to move when he picked up the exact pace she wanted and then some. He was intense and Reese could see why Ripley had loved riding the hulking Native Flame. The power that Jabberwock exuded was extremely addicting. It lifted Reese's adrenaline to heights it had never reached before. Jabberwock bowed his neck, muscles playing fanatically beneath his hide, when Ripley rode Candid Silver out on the track. Fleet Majesty was already moving around the first turn at a swift, floating jog.
Ripley asked Candid to step out into a canter as Jabberwock neared. Reese leaned forward, shifting her weight, propelling Jabber to move out as well. He swept over the ground, quicker than necessary, to reach Silvi. Ripley drew even with them and called, Mile gallop, three furlong blitz. She immediately spun Candid Silver off and away from Jabberwock's side. The Native Flame colt's head lifted violently in protest and Reese had all she could do to keep him moving forward at a swift pace. He bounded up and down, crow hopping in further rage, shaking his head. Reese chided him with a sharp voice and Jabber bolted suddenly into a gallop. The woman's fingers twined into his whipping mane, impressed and terrified by his powerful turn of foot.
The colt flew up the homestretch, barely controlled by Reese. Jabberwock had a fierce mind of his own and Reese was practically swallowing her tongue. Native Flame had been a slow to get going type and Jabber was the complete opposite. He was furious and fiery as he cranked into the clubhouse turn, flying out three paths wide for his massive body and stride. Reese let out a breath when the horse suddenly moved into a long strided gallop, halting his runaway train sprint. It was brilliant, cruising. He took one stride for every horses two. He carried his head and tail high, his ears pricked. He gave the impression that he would bolt the instant he pleased. Reese prayed for him to relax and settle. He did... sort of. His type of settling was like the usual horse's running. Reese had to stand a little higher in the stirrups, tiring her legs out just a bit. This addicting power was going to her head. She needed to get control over herself and the mount.
Brooks and Mage stared as Jabberwock stormed past. He was immense and Brooks' lithe filly was intimidated. Her eyes rolled white and she pranced to the side, mane and tail flying with the breeze. Brooks was caught up in awe when Jabber surged into the turn. For some reason Brooks thought that a mile workout was not exactly what Ripley had called for Jabberwock. Brooks stroked Mage's neck and grinned at the pleasure of Reese's plight. The woman was always stirring up Ripley. It was entertaining to say the least.
The three furlong blitz was approaching quicker than Reese had expected. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She felt frozen in the face of this colt's raw speed. And he was going to have to carry it from 9-12 furlongs? He was either going to be very good or dramatically horrid. Reese was quite sure it was going to be the former point. Jabber ducked his head entering the mid point of the homestretch. It was as though he knew Ripley's directions. Reese finally found her voice and called to him, spoke to him, but she didn't dare touch the reins. He would never be Bella Luna, but he sure didn't need her yarning on his mouth. Easy Jabber. Easy. Save it for race day please. The colt's ears flicked back to listen and the second he passed the wire...
Well he stopped listening.
Reese let out a hoot and just gave her soul to hell. The colt poured it on, roaring as if he had gone from a standstill into a gallop, rather than sprinting gallop into a... there were no words anymore. He was bloody quick. Bloody intense. He knocked thoughts from Reese's head as he whipped over the dirt surface. Jabberwock gave both Reese and Ripley, from the sidelines chills. He cut the corner better than he had the first time around, front legs going one way and back going the other. He reached speeds that typically horses only reached in a race set up. He wasn't even trying. Reese did not dare touch the reins now. She was afraid of the gears beyond this one because that there were gears beyond this powerful run. She didn't want to know what she had until she needed it. Maybe she would never need it. Jabberwock could outrun and outrace everyone. Reese's mind was opening to the possibilities during this frightening run and suddenly he was done. The three furlongs were up and the dark bay colt just shut it down. Beyond intelligent. Beyond frightening. Beyond the greatest horse Reese had ever ridden in her life.
...
Brooks let out a wolf whistle from his point next to Ripley. That's one hell of a racehorse you just picked up out of the blue Ripley. Ripley could hardly believe her eyes as Jabberwock rounded up the homestretch in a swift canter. She'd expected ability from the second son of Native Flame... but this kind of ability was unprecedented. She didn't give Brooks directions until Jabberwock was 50 yards away from them. He was dead silent. No snorting, no heavy breathing. Reese's eyes were wide with awe. The horse was from another planet.
Shaking it off, Ripley turned to Brooks and Mage. The filly was prancing and working herself into an excited sweat. She's been racing for a little while. Mile and a quarter for her. Three furlong blitz, please. Brooks shook his head, grinning when the filly side stepped. You expect us to follow up that?
Yes. Brooks could feel the heat pouring into Ripley's voice. She was annoyed with Reese for letting Jabberwock have his head. The trainer admired speed, but she didn't want to see it unless it was being used in the race. Her face had gone white the instant Jabberwock had taken off. She was furious. Brooks sent a sympathetic look toward Reese, but it was met with defiant eyes. She was not about to take Ripley's heat like a cowardly dog. Brooks saluted both women and asked Mage to move out at a confident jog.
The dappled gray filly looked a lot like Brookson's other superior mount Frozen Motion. She was nothing like Freeze in temper though. Both horses were higher strung, but Freeze had common sense. Mage had no common sense. She tossed her head and danced sideway, rolling those big dark eyes of hers and pranced like a parade horse. She did things that pleased her and did not care who else it affected. The filly was lean and lanky, quite the elegant minx. She got away with a lot of things because of this fact. Brooks had fallen in love with her the minute she had stepped off of the trailer. She was a care free horse with a beautiful, optimistic attitude. She stood out in a barn full of pessimistic, intense horses.
Her stride was a dream when she settled into a relaxed gallop. She kept her nose down and her ears pinned backward to listen to Brooks. She used her whole frame to run, lengthening it even at this relaxed stage. There was no lioness attitude here. She was a lightly built horse who used her boldness to her advantage. She nickered into the night, drawing up alongside the ghostly inner rail. This was a filly who was going to excel at the longer distances. It was in her nature to just settle in and wait it out. The patience she displayed as Brooks guided her into the backstretch was incredible. She acted like a seasoned pro on the track.
Brooks leaned in, running his hands over the buns at her crest. Her lower dark mane mingled with his black gloves, contrasting against the white dapples. She did not turn a hair at his easy affection. A beautiful horse such as this had to understand that affection was a given. Her hooves were silent over the track, throwing up dust in their wake, quite like faerie magic. She moved confidently, not bothered by the new surroundings, the night or the rider perched on her withers. Brooks kept a light hand on the bit, admiring the leather that sat just behind her small gray ears.
Mage swerved all over the track, displaying her green tendencies. Her speed was consistent but she lost it in her gallops. She switched her lead changes back and forth up the backstretch. It was something they would have to work on over the next few weeks before her first start under Witch Creek tutelage. Brooks lifted his outside hand and inside rein, guiding her inward, back to the rail. She tossed her head, pulling on him. It was her first show of defiance on the track. Brooks smirked. She was not quite the well-mannered princess after all.
Her long stride conquered and spat out the mile and a quarter gallop with ease. She was still moving lightly, happily at the end of it. She was not breathing hard and remained quiet. Her inner focus seemed to grow with every stride. Soon her swerving and lead changes had stopped. Brooks pursed his lips. Maybe it was just a quirk of hers. Maybe swerving was how she expressed herself before the actual race.
Brooks shook the reins at her then. The three furlong blitz was up. They were once again in the backstretch. Mage reacted instantly to the shaking. She leaped forward with those professed cat-like reflexes and took flight. Brooks' eyes watered at the speed that this filly possessed. Her stride became faster and stronger. She was focused and tough. She seemed to handle the race track quite well even if turf was her preferred surface. She kicked up dirt and squealed when Brooks' fingers tapped her neck. Mage dipped her head low when she picked up speed; a western horse would have been proud. Brooks was a little nervous about the open space before him. Mage had picked up an impossible amount of speed with that simple movement.
She ghosted a path through the darkness, her silver dappled form moving at supernatural speeds. Fleet Majesty was not a fake horse in the least. Some horses fooled your timing with their speed just because they went so easy. Mage went all out and the rider had no doubt about it. What was more was that Mage became even more intense in an actual race situation. The dappled gray fought back on the front end the entire race becoming fiercer. Brooks could not wait for the pair workout next week. He wondered who Ripley would stick them with as he pulled the fierce filly up.
Mage squealed and kicked up, refusing to be brought back quietly. Brooks' face tightened up with sternness, hands tensed on the reins. She felt his annoyance and immediately subdued herself, though she did buck once more. Her dancing, prancing nature did not allow her to go as silent as Jabberwock did. She was still snorting, breathing excitedly when they returned to Ripley and Reese. Ripley scanned the filly with her green eyes. Brooks was worried. The woman didn't look pleased.
Did you both lose your inner timers? Ripley scowled, reaching out to stroke Mage'e light face. Mage backed away, eyes rolling in mock horror. Goodness! Speed is important, but it waits for the races! Ripley turned Candid Silver around and trotted back to the main barn, ignoring Jabber's complaints. Brooks looked at Reese nervously. What was my time? Reese shook her head, black hair waving in front of her face. The blitz was dead on, but you basically smashed Witch Creek's two minute mile and a quarter plan. Brooks winced and gesture for more. She caught the mile and a quarter in 1: 59. And those are racing times Wells for a filly who doesn't even like the dirt. Brooks stared, feeling the gray filly shake with the chills that ran down his back. Apparently, Mage was good at disguising something. Her raw talent.
Witch Creek was a place for phantoms and ghosts, fairies and creatures of the night. Its emerald green hills of the day were the blackest of blacks. The creek bubbled like some witch's brew, filled with magic and poison alike. Witch Creek was never quiet, always active. Horses danced about the paddocks, yearlings whinnied to one another, stallions trumpeted. It was peaceful because of the equine beings. Ripley had added three more recently to her number. A yearling, a two year old and a three year old. The two older horses had been galloping for a few days on the trails, exploiting the rolling land for what it was. Now it was time to meet the track.
Ripley sat aboard a brilliantly white filly besides the gaping entrance of the dirt track. Candid Silver was a three year old whose heart had never been at the track, but whose beauty and personality would be amazing to pass onto her offspring. The near white filly glowed in the dark, ears pricked at what was coming through the fog towards them. Ripley crooned to her, stroking the glow, touching that beautiful magic. Candid Silver nickered, creating more of a spell.
A melodic nicker returned from the darkness. It was tempting and seductive and belonged to currently the most interesting and magical colt in the string. Ripley's cat green eyes strained to see the beast that would come from the night. It was only Jabberwock whom made such loving gestures to the ladies of Witch Creek. He stepped from beneath a tree, touched by the moons glow. His dark bay coat in the day looked black in this lighting. There was no white on him and he looked ever the haunted horseman's mount. He'd been galloping superbly all week and he was ready to take his place at Witch Creek, the first son of Native Flame to race for Ripley Marsh. Reese met Ripley's gaze, her playful orbs glowed excitedly. The woman was beyond ready for a chance to prove herself. She'd done well so far and was honored that Ripley would think of sticking her on the bay three year old.
Just take him out on the track Reese and jog him a mile. We're not going to work these two together quite yet. I want to see what he's got. So after you warm up come back to me. Reese nodded and Ripley watched as the 17.0 hand bay strutted by Candid Silver, who followed him with her eyes, clearly enchanted by the horse and the night. Ripley turned back at the sound of some sticks cracking in the woods. She did not have to work as hard to locate the second new horse. The two year old Fleet Majesty was spectacular in appearance at Witch Creek. Her iron gray frame was doused in light silver dollar coins, her mane and tail melted from the same iron gray to the brilliant white of snow. She was beautiful and way more than what Ripley had first expected when she'd purchased the filly from Intrepid. She pranced delicately through the fallen leaves, carrying her rider, Ripley's knight, toward the track. Brooks was in his most pleased state. He had lost Bella Luna to Reese, but had gained another special filly in the process.
A filly worth only 20 grand who had already shaped up within four days of being at Witch Creek. Same directions Brooks. Ripley backed Silvi up, allowing Mage to pass out onto the track. She moved like a doe over the track, trying to figure out if she even liked the dirt surface. She let out a string of three neighs, creating a ruckus all over the property. Jabberwock was snorting as he rounded the final turn, moving at a rapid jog. Reese was enjoying him immensely. She hardly had to move when he picked up the exact pace she wanted and then some. He was intense and Reese could see why Ripley had loved riding the hulking Native Flame. The power that Jabberwock exuded was extremely addicting. It lifted Reese's adrenaline to heights it had never reached before. Jabberwock bowed his neck, muscles playing fanatically beneath his hide, when Ripley rode Candid Silver out on the track. Fleet Majesty was already moving around the first turn at a swift, floating jog.
Ripley asked Candid to step out into a canter as Jabberwock neared. Reese leaned forward, shifting her weight, propelling Jabber to move out as well. He swept over the ground, quicker than necessary, to reach Silvi. Ripley drew even with them and called, Mile gallop, three furlong blitz. She immediately spun Candid Silver off and away from Jabberwock's side. The Native Flame colt's head lifted violently in protest and Reese had all she could do to keep him moving forward at a swift pace. He bounded up and down, crow hopping in further rage, shaking his head. Reese chided him with a sharp voice and Jabber bolted suddenly into a gallop. The woman's fingers twined into his whipping mane, impressed and terrified by his powerful turn of foot.
The colt flew up the homestretch, barely controlled by Reese. Jabberwock had a fierce mind of his own and Reese was practically swallowing her tongue. Native Flame had been a slow to get going type and Jabber was the complete opposite. He was furious and fiery as he cranked into the clubhouse turn, flying out three paths wide for his massive body and stride. Reese let out a breath when the horse suddenly moved into a long strided gallop, halting his runaway train sprint. It was brilliant, cruising. He took one stride for every horses two. He carried his head and tail high, his ears pricked. He gave the impression that he would bolt the instant he pleased. Reese prayed for him to relax and settle. He did... sort of. His type of settling was like the usual horse's running. Reese had to stand a little higher in the stirrups, tiring her legs out just a bit. This addicting power was going to her head. She needed to get control over herself and the mount.
Brooks and Mage stared as Jabberwock stormed past. He was immense and Brooks' lithe filly was intimidated. Her eyes rolled white and she pranced to the side, mane and tail flying with the breeze. Brooks was caught up in awe when Jabber surged into the turn. For some reason Brooks thought that a mile workout was not exactly what Ripley had called for Jabberwock. Brooks stroked Mage's neck and grinned at the pleasure of Reese's plight. The woman was always stirring up Ripley. It was entertaining to say the least.
The three furlong blitz was approaching quicker than Reese had expected. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She felt frozen in the face of this colt's raw speed. And he was going to have to carry it from 9-12 furlongs? He was either going to be very good or dramatically horrid. Reese was quite sure it was going to be the former point. Jabber ducked his head entering the mid point of the homestretch. It was as though he knew Ripley's directions. Reese finally found her voice and called to him, spoke to him, but she didn't dare touch the reins. He would never be Bella Luna, but he sure didn't need her yarning on his mouth. Easy Jabber. Easy. Save it for race day please. The colt's ears flicked back to listen and the second he passed the wire...
Well he stopped listening.
Reese let out a hoot and just gave her soul to hell. The colt poured it on, roaring as if he had gone from a standstill into a gallop, rather than sprinting gallop into a... there were no words anymore. He was bloody quick. Bloody intense. He knocked thoughts from Reese's head as he whipped over the dirt surface. Jabberwock gave both Reese and Ripley, from the sidelines chills. He cut the corner better than he had the first time around, front legs going one way and back going the other. He reached speeds that typically horses only reached in a race set up. He wasn't even trying. Reese did not dare touch the reins now. She was afraid of the gears beyond this one because that there were gears beyond this powerful run. She didn't want to know what she had until she needed it. Maybe she would never need it. Jabberwock could outrun and outrace everyone. Reese's mind was opening to the possibilities during this frightening run and suddenly he was done. The three furlongs were up and the dark bay colt just shut it down. Beyond intelligent. Beyond frightening. Beyond the greatest horse Reese had ever ridden in her life.
...
Brooks let out a wolf whistle from his point next to Ripley. That's one hell of a racehorse you just picked up out of the blue Ripley. Ripley could hardly believe her eyes as Jabberwock rounded up the homestretch in a swift canter. She'd expected ability from the second son of Native Flame... but this kind of ability was unprecedented. She didn't give Brooks directions until Jabberwock was 50 yards away from them. He was dead silent. No snorting, no heavy breathing. Reese's eyes were wide with awe. The horse was from another planet.
Shaking it off, Ripley turned to Brooks and Mage. The filly was prancing and working herself into an excited sweat. She's been racing for a little while. Mile and a quarter for her. Three furlong blitz, please. Brooks shook his head, grinning when the filly side stepped. You expect us to follow up that?
Yes. Brooks could feel the heat pouring into Ripley's voice. She was annoyed with Reese for letting Jabberwock have his head. The trainer admired speed, but she didn't want to see it unless it was being used in the race. Her face had gone white the instant Jabberwock had taken off. She was furious. Brooks sent a sympathetic look toward Reese, but it was met with defiant eyes. She was not about to take Ripley's heat like a cowardly dog. Brooks saluted both women and asked Mage to move out at a confident jog.
The dappled gray filly looked a lot like Brookson's other superior mount Frozen Motion. She was nothing like Freeze in temper though. Both horses were higher strung, but Freeze had common sense. Mage had no common sense. She tossed her head and danced sideway, rolling those big dark eyes of hers and pranced like a parade horse. She did things that pleased her and did not care who else it affected. The filly was lean and lanky, quite the elegant minx. She got away with a lot of things because of this fact. Brooks had fallen in love with her the minute she had stepped off of the trailer. She was a care free horse with a beautiful, optimistic attitude. She stood out in a barn full of pessimistic, intense horses.
Her stride was a dream when she settled into a relaxed gallop. She kept her nose down and her ears pinned backward to listen to Brooks. She used her whole frame to run, lengthening it even at this relaxed stage. There was no lioness attitude here. She was a lightly built horse who used her boldness to her advantage. She nickered into the night, drawing up alongside the ghostly inner rail. This was a filly who was going to excel at the longer distances. It was in her nature to just settle in and wait it out. The patience she displayed as Brooks guided her into the backstretch was incredible. She acted like a seasoned pro on the track.
Brooks leaned in, running his hands over the buns at her crest. Her lower dark mane mingled with his black gloves, contrasting against the white dapples. She did not turn a hair at his easy affection. A beautiful horse such as this had to understand that affection was a given. Her hooves were silent over the track, throwing up dust in their wake, quite like faerie magic. She moved confidently, not bothered by the new surroundings, the night or the rider perched on her withers. Brooks kept a light hand on the bit, admiring the leather that sat just behind her small gray ears.
Mage swerved all over the track, displaying her green tendencies. Her speed was consistent but she lost it in her gallops. She switched her lead changes back and forth up the backstretch. It was something they would have to work on over the next few weeks before her first start under Witch Creek tutelage. Brooks lifted his outside hand and inside rein, guiding her inward, back to the rail. She tossed her head, pulling on him. It was her first show of defiance on the track. Brooks smirked. She was not quite the well-mannered princess after all.
Her long stride conquered and spat out the mile and a quarter gallop with ease. She was still moving lightly, happily at the end of it. She was not breathing hard and remained quiet. Her inner focus seemed to grow with every stride. Soon her swerving and lead changes had stopped. Brooks pursed his lips. Maybe it was just a quirk of hers. Maybe swerving was how she expressed herself before the actual race.
Brooks shook the reins at her then. The three furlong blitz was up. They were once again in the backstretch. Mage reacted instantly to the shaking. She leaped forward with those professed cat-like reflexes and took flight. Brooks' eyes watered at the speed that this filly possessed. Her stride became faster and stronger. She was focused and tough. She seemed to handle the race track quite well even if turf was her preferred surface. She kicked up dirt and squealed when Brooks' fingers tapped her neck. Mage dipped her head low when she picked up speed; a western horse would have been proud. Brooks was a little nervous about the open space before him. Mage had picked up an impossible amount of speed with that simple movement.
She ghosted a path through the darkness, her silver dappled form moving at supernatural speeds. Fleet Majesty was not a fake horse in the least. Some horses fooled your timing with their speed just because they went so easy. Mage went all out and the rider had no doubt about it. What was more was that Mage became even more intense in an actual race situation. The dappled gray fought back on the front end the entire race becoming fiercer. Brooks could not wait for the pair workout next week. He wondered who Ripley would stick them with as he pulled the fierce filly up.
Mage squealed and kicked up, refusing to be brought back quietly. Brooks' face tightened up with sternness, hands tensed on the reins. She felt his annoyance and immediately subdued herself, though she did buck once more. Her dancing, prancing nature did not allow her to go as silent as Jabberwock did. She was still snorting, breathing excitedly when they returned to Ripley and Reese. Ripley scanned the filly with her green eyes. Brooks was worried. The woman didn't look pleased.
Did you both lose your inner timers? Ripley scowled, reaching out to stroke Mage'e light face. Mage backed away, eyes rolling in mock horror. Goodness! Speed is important, but it waits for the races! Ripley turned Candid Silver around and trotted back to the main barn, ignoring Jabber's complaints. Brooks looked at Reese nervously. What was my time? Reese shook her head, black hair waving in front of her face. The blitz was dead on, but you basically smashed Witch Creek's two minute mile and a quarter plan. Brooks winced and gesture for more. She caught the mile and a quarter in 1: 59. And those are racing times Wells for a filly who doesn't even like the dirt. Brooks stared, feeling the gray filly shake with the chills that ran down his back. Apparently, Mage was good at disguising something. Her raw talent.