August Week Two Workouts: Scroll Down
Fiery Touch& Winning Touch.
winning fire
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Most of Touch Up's daughters were back on Witch Creek soil. They had been separated by differing stables for a couple years, but all of them seemed to return in some form or another. The Devil's Touch was a permanent resident and her younger sister Fiery Touch would be as well. Fie had lived with Stride of Perfection Stables for the first two and a half years of her life, but she was back to stay. Winning Touch had traveled many times between barns. From Battle Brook to Akita Rose Stables to Kacey Hill Stables to Witch Creek to Serendipity Hills and back to Witch Creek. The filly was well traveled, running at both The Wire and Green Horse Fields. She would not end her days of racing or breeding with Witch Creek and would most likely end up back with Serendipity Hills Racing. But for now it was entertaining to see the dynamic of the three willful daughters play out over the popular rolling green hills.
The journey had been convoluted thus far, but it was an interesting one to say the least. Today would be a reunion of sorts. Fiery Touch and Winning Touch would step together on the dirt track for the first time as stable mates, not as rivals. Both of the bay fillies had moved up in grade in their last starts. Winnie was now a grade three, Fie a grade four. They could be kept apart, but the end result of Year Twelve could be the same. Ripley sat proudly aboard her intense filly. Fie looked out over her home track with a proud gaze. Her confidence was riding high. She would run for the first time off a month layoff this week in the Fleur De Lis Derby. The only competitor entered was another filly Ripley knew well... Midnight Thriller. They were out to beat her this time around. Fie was rested and eager for another go at the track. Ripley petted her bay filly. Oh they were more than ready.
Reese walked Winning Touch up and down the track. They were both the new girls. It was expected they would have to work harder to gain attention in the barn. Reese had also taken over as regular rider for Bella Luna, but she was more excited for what the partnership with the bay beneath her would bring. Winnie was a visually impressive filly. She wasn't quite as tall as her half-sister Fie was, but her chest and hind-end was thicker. She was less lanky and elegant and more rough and tumble. Sort of like The Devil's Touch. Reese admired the filly's looks, but she wasn't so thrilled with her stride. She stretched far with her front end and jumped like a crow with her back end to catch up. Winnie was a character and a racer. Reese simply had to get used to it.
Ripley watched the caramel-colored woman handle Winning Touch. Ripley was not so eager to let Reese in like she had been with Maggie and Brooks. The sassy woman got under her skin. However, Ripley could not avoid the fact that the blonde could ride. Ripley's plate was full with a variety of other horses, as were Maggie's and Brooks'. It seemed as though Reese had come at just the right time. The auburn haired woman called out and Reese guided her strutting Flash at Dawn filly back toward them. Fie flattened her ears. She was not quite used to seeing her track rival on her home turf. She wanted nothing to do with her. Fie cocked a hoof in warning. Winnie bobbed her head, snorting in response, goading her half-sister into doing something.
The head trainer rubbed Fie's impatient neck and smirked. Well this will certainly be an interesting workout to say the least. Both of them run this week so we're only doing a short workout. Nothing too tiring. You'll be facing Sugar Jayde from Stride of Perfection- Ripley narrowed her eyes when Reese waved her off. Yeah, yeah I got it. Only three wins on the season, but tough in every race she runs in. You're not the only one who pays attention to horse racing Marsh. Ripley ground her teeth. Reese was like an obnoxious little sister. Ripley urged Fie forward, not even admiring the filly's swift break into a canter. Reese stuck her tongue out after the older woman. Winnie followed, waving her tail over her strong rump.
The sisters acted completely different. Fie was stately and elegant. Winnie was goofy and down-to-earth. Fie floated over the ground. Winnie barreled over it. Yet both of them were extremely talented and extremely fast. Both were in possession of being classy on the racetrack. Fie had only finished out of the money once in the entire Year Twelve. Winning Touch had never been out of the money to this date. They were both gunning after Paradise Island and Eternal Phantom for three year old filly honors. It would be an interesting set up.
Winning Touch let out a fierce buck, dashing Reese forward. Ripley snickered as she guided her lighter colored bay around. Reese glared after her. Maggie says you pick the distance and speed... So let's have it.
Ripley glared. Well I am the owner and head trainer at Witch Creek... The woman narrowed her sharp green eyes. She wanted badly to show this woman who was boss. Mile and an eighth gallop. Four furlong blow out. Ripley rode Fiery Touch up until she was level with Winnie. The taller filly brushed with the newcomer, knocking her over a few inches. Winnie pinned ears and attempted a quick bite. Fie merely stuck her nose in the air and picked up the pace. Ripley grinned inside, rubbing the filly's tension-filled neck. She wasn't the only one who wanted to show whom was boss here.
The fillies kicked into a high strung gallop; Fiery Touch wasn't interested in lagging behind today. Her eyes blazed and her body seemed to coil like a snake. She moved with her nose tucked into her chest and her ears buried in her mane. She looked like a true wild horse, tough, full of herself, ready to run at a moments notice. She moved eloquently, a knight's horse. Ripley was pleased with this new, bold attitude that Fie exuded. She was confident and willing. Something she needed to teach some of the other horses at Witch Creek.
Reese pushed off her negative feelings toward Ripley as soon as Winnie got moving. The bay was strolling beneath, body pulsing with internal excitement. This Touch Up daughter was a fool on the outside, but she had an intensity that Reese had only felt a few times before. Those few times had turned out to be really excellent horses. Reese pursed her lips. Maybe Maggie was right and Ripley actually knew a thing or two about her horses. Reese moved her fingers through the long black mane, smiling when Winnie snorted or made a savage face at her half-sister. Winnie wasn't cocky or openly competitive, but she had a fighter's spirit in this gleaming body of hers.
The pair of Touch Up fillies moved at a cruising gallop around the track. Fie still was interested in holding a lead. Ripley wondered if her running style might need to be revamped. Every new race that came up, Fie had been staying closer and closer to the front of the pack. Not a stalker or a closer, more like a steady mid-packer. Ripley expected the filly to change, but not this soon or this quickly. She had to remind herself that maturity occurred faster in some horses than in others.
The black haired woman leaned close to her filly's neck, embracing Winnie's strength and taking it in like a heavenly breath of fresh air. She'd watched video of every one of her races. Winnie was changing as well. As steady as a rocking chair, the filly was recently gaining some fire. After her dawdling third behind dead-heaters Paradise Island and Eternal Phantom and Midnight Thriller, Winning Touch had gained a quality she never truly displayed before: courage in the face of battle. Her win in the Riparian Stakes over Arachne had been gritty and determined. She'd captured a few hearts with the victory. She was on the up and up and searching for that welcoming she'd received in the early part of the season.
They cruised over the dirt, strides blooming like flowers in the sun, growing longer and wider. The horses flew over the track, beautiful and glorious, not quite throwing it down to one another just yet. Ripley and Reese burned with a competitive fire that they could not quite keep from flowing down the reins. The fillies snagged at the bit, lather flowing from their mouths and over the warming metal. They pushed each other to a stronger speed, cold wind whipped their heads and blistered their rider's exposed faces Ripley tucked her head down beside Fie's pulsating neck. She warmed Ripley enough for the rider to stand and look at Reese. The mile and an eighth was drawing to a close.
Winning Touch pulled viciously on the reins, tugging Reese up out of her protective huddle. Her brown eyes met Ripley's as they cruised down the homestretch. Reese smirked. The woman thought she didn't know American tracks very well. Reese covered her nose back up with her scarf and faced front again. If the trainer wanted a four furlong workout, she would get one. Ripley didn't like the fired up look that flickered over Reese's features. She immediately sat down in the saddle and bided her time from the threatening position.
Winning Touch sprung forward first, leaving both Fie and Ripley momentarily shell-shocked. The Flash at Dawn filly had a supreme turn of foot. Ripley dropped her hands and shook the reins, Fie bolted after her new stable-mate, ears pinned. She had just gotten started.
Reese was immensely pleased. Oh this filly was way beyond what Maggie and Brooks had said about her. She was powerful, talented, and in total control of her entire form. She cruised a half-length in front of Fie with a more economical if not pretty stride. Reese just had to sit perched on the bay lass and that was all that was required. She glanced under her arm and saw that Fie was shooting through the gap on the rail. For a larger sized filly, Fie really took advantage of openings now. Reese cruised when Fie hit her large cruising stride into the backstretch. The new jock shook Winnie awake, finding her already analyzing the situation.
Ripley and Reese went breathless as both fillies surged forward in that moment. They met each other beat for beat, bodies cranking up like a wind up toy. They released and joined as one, racing wildly up the stretch. Both women now featured smiles on their lips. Oh, this was fabulous. They did not pump their hands, move their feet, raise their voices. Silence, apart from the pounding of hooves, spread over the track. Fie, fleet as a deer, and Winnie, strong as a lioness, broke again, head and head, eyes wild, black mane whipping as delicate legs reached to be just ahead of the rival's.
The four furlongs blitzed by. The time was impressive if anyone had bothered to keep a clock. The fillies came back to the riders easily, none the worse for wear. The heavy breathing stopped even before they got back to the barn. Race day was coming. Witch Creek's three year old fillies were more than prepared for it.
The journey had been convoluted thus far, but it was an interesting one to say the least. Today would be a reunion of sorts. Fiery Touch and Winning Touch would step together on the dirt track for the first time as stable mates, not as rivals. Both of the bay fillies had moved up in grade in their last starts. Winnie was now a grade three, Fie a grade four. They could be kept apart, but the end result of Year Twelve could be the same. Ripley sat proudly aboard her intense filly. Fie looked out over her home track with a proud gaze. Her confidence was riding high. She would run for the first time off a month layoff this week in the Fleur De Lis Derby. The only competitor entered was another filly Ripley knew well... Midnight Thriller. They were out to beat her this time around. Fie was rested and eager for another go at the track. Ripley petted her bay filly. Oh they were more than ready.
Reese walked Winning Touch up and down the track. They were both the new girls. It was expected they would have to work harder to gain attention in the barn. Reese had also taken over as regular rider for Bella Luna, but she was more excited for what the partnership with the bay beneath her would bring. Winnie was a visually impressive filly. She wasn't quite as tall as her half-sister Fie was, but her chest and hind-end was thicker. She was less lanky and elegant and more rough and tumble. Sort of like The Devil's Touch. Reese admired the filly's looks, but she wasn't so thrilled with her stride. She stretched far with her front end and jumped like a crow with her back end to catch up. Winnie was a character and a racer. Reese simply had to get used to it.
Ripley watched the caramel-colored woman handle Winning Touch. Ripley was not so eager to let Reese in like she had been with Maggie and Brooks. The sassy woman got under her skin. However, Ripley could not avoid the fact that the blonde could ride. Ripley's plate was full with a variety of other horses, as were Maggie's and Brooks'. It seemed as though Reese had come at just the right time. The auburn haired woman called out and Reese guided her strutting Flash at Dawn filly back toward them. Fie flattened her ears. She was not quite used to seeing her track rival on her home turf. She wanted nothing to do with her. Fie cocked a hoof in warning. Winnie bobbed her head, snorting in response, goading her half-sister into doing something.
The head trainer rubbed Fie's impatient neck and smirked. Well this will certainly be an interesting workout to say the least. Both of them run this week so we're only doing a short workout. Nothing too tiring. You'll be facing Sugar Jayde from Stride of Perfection- Ripley narrowed her eyes when Reese waved her off. Yeah, yeah I got it. Only three wins on the season, but tough in every race she runs in. You're not the only one who pays attention to horse racing Marsh. Ripley ground her teeth. Reese was like an obnoxious little sister. Ripley urged Fie forward, not even admiring the filly's swift break into a canter. Reese stuck her tongue out after the older woman. Winnie followed, waving her tail over her strong rump.
The sisters acted completely different. Fie was stately and elegant. Winnie was goofy and down-to-earth. Fie floated over the ground. Winnie barreled over it. Yet both of them were extremely talented and extremely fast. Both were in possession of being classy on the racetrack. Fie had only finished out of the money once in the entire Year Twelve. Winning Touch had never been out of the money to this date. They were both gunning after Paradise Island and Eternal Phantom for three year old filly honors. It would be an interesting set up.
Winning Touch let out a fierce buck, dashing Reese forward. Ripley snickered as she guided her lighter colored bay around. Reese glared after her. Maggie says you pick the distance and speed... So let's have it.
Ripley glared. Well I am the owner and head trainer at Witch Creek... The woman narrowed her sharp green eyes. She wanted badly to show this woman who was boss. Mile and an eighth gallop. Four furlong blow out. Ripley rode Fiery Touch up until she was level with Winnie. The taller filly brushed with the newcomer, knocking her over a few inches. Winnie pinned ears and attempted a quick bite. Fie merely stuck her nose in the air and picked up the pace. Ripley grinned inside, rubbing the filly's tension-filled neck. She wasn't the only one who wanted to show whom was boss here.
The fillies kicked into a high strung gallop; Fiery Touch wasn't interested in lagging behind today. Her eyes blazed and her body seemed to coil like a snake. She moved with her nose tucked into her chest and her ears buried in her mane. She looked like a true wild horse, tough, full of herself, ready to run at a moments notice. She moved eloquently, a knight's horse. Ripley was pleased with this new, bold attitude that Fie exuded. She was confident and willing. Something she needed to teach some of the other horses at Witch Creek.
Reese pushed off her negative feelings toward Ripley as soon as Winnie got moving. The bay was strolling beneath, body pulsing with internal excitement. This Touch Up daughter was a fool on the outside, but she had an intensity that Reese had only felt a few times before. Those few times had turned out to be really excellent horses. Reese pursed her lips. Maybe Maggie was right and Ripley actually knew a thing or two about her horses. Reese moved her fingers through the long black mane, smiling when Winnie snorted or made a savage face at her half-sister. Winnie wasn't cocky or openly competitive, but she had a fighter's spirit in this gleaming body of hers.
The pair of Touch Up fillies moved at a cruising gallop around the track. Fie still was interested in holding a lead. Ripley wondered if her running style might need to be revamped. Every new race that came up, Fie had been staying closer and closer to the front of the pack. Not a stalker or a closer, more like a steady mid-packer. Ripley expected the filly to change, but not this soon or this quickly. She had to remind herself that maturity occurred faster in some horses than in others.
The black haired woman leaned close to her filly's neck, embracing Winnie's strength and taking it in like a heavenly breath of fresh air. She'd watched video of every one of her races. Winnie was changing as well. As steady as a rocking chair, the filly was recently gaining some fire. After her dawdling third behind dead-heaters Paradise Island and Eternal Phantom and Midnight Thriller, Winning Touch had gained a quality she never truly displayed before: courage in the face of battle. Her win in the Riparian Stakes over Arachne had been gritty and determined. She'd captured a few hearts with the victory. She was on the up and up and searching for that welcoming she'd received in the early part of the season.
They cruised over the dirt, strides blooming like flowers in the sun, growing longer and wider. The horses flew over the track, beautiful and glorious, not quite throwing it down to one another just yet. Ripley and Reese burned with a competitive fire that they could not quite keep from flowing down the reins. The fillies snagged at the bit, lather flowing from their mouths and over the warming metal. They pushed each other to a stronger speed, cold wind whipped their heads and blistered their rider's exposed faces Ripley tucked her head down beside Fie's pulsating neck. She warmed Ripley enough for the rider to stand and look at Reese. The mile and an eighth was drawing to a close.
Winning Touch pulled viciously on the reins, tugging Reese up out of her protective huddle. Her brown eyes met Ripley's as they cruised down the homestretch. Reese smirked. The woman thought she didn't know American tracks very well. Reese covered her nose back up with her scarf and faced front again. If the trainer wanted a four furlong workout, she would get one. Ripley didn't like the fired up look that flickered over Reese's features. She immediately sat down in the saddle and bided her time from the threatening position.
Winning Touch sprung forward first, leaving both Fie and Ripley momentarily shell-shocked. The Flash at Dawn filly had a supreme turn of foot. Ripley dropped her hands and shook the reins, Fie bolted after her new stable-mate, ears pinned. She had just gotten started.
Reese was immensely pleased. Oh this filly was way beyond what Maggie and Brooks had said about her. She was powerful, talented, and in total control of her entire form. She cruised a half-length in front of Fie with a more economical if not pretty stride. Reese just had to sit perched on the bay lass and that was all that was required. She glanced under her arm and saw that Fie was shooting through the gap on the rail. For a larger sized filly, Fie really took advantage of openings now. Reese cruised when Fie hit her large cruising stride into the backstretch. The new jock shook Winnie awake, finding her already analyzing the situation.
Ripley and Reese went breathless as both fillies surged forward in that moment. They met each other beat for beat, bodies cranking up like a wind up toy. They released and joined as one, racing wildly up the stretch. Both women now featured smiles on their lips. Oh, this was fabulous. They did not pump their hands, move their feet, raise their voices. Silence, apart from the pounding of hooves, spread over the track. Fie, fleet as a deer, and Winnie, strong as a lioness, broke again, head and head, eyes wild, black mane whipping as delicate legs reached to be just ahead of the rival's.
The four furlongs blitzed by. The time was impressive if anyone had bothered to keep a clock. The fillies came back to the riders easily, none the worse for wear. The heavy breathing stopped even before they got back to the barn. Race day was coming. Witch Creek's three year old fillies were more than prepared for it.