July Week One Workouts: scroll for individuals
Ashes to Ashes& Screaming Mimi. Cross My Heart& Red Herring.
sound the alarm
Ashes to Ashes and Screaming Mimi strode over the track emphatically, bodies twitching powerfully. Both horses were feeling particularly good and particularly annoyed on this very particular morning at Witch Creek Stable. Both of them were coming off of winning efforts, but losing races. Ash had run into a buzz saw in Devil's Crusade at Green Horse Fields and Screaming Mimi had finished behind tough runners Lynara's Kingdom and Flawed Princess in the Monrovia Stakes, the first filly turf race that lead up to the Breeders Cup in December. Brooks and Maggie felt as though they were sitting on powder kegs today. The three year old colt and four year old mare were raring to go. Screaming Mimi's next start would come in the Everyday Hero Memorial Stakes against top competition at Green Horse Fields. Ashes to Ashes would be facing his own three year old division in the Prince of Wales at The Wire. A stiff workout was the doctor's orders today. Ripley's crew had had a solid week so far, but the once again rising trainer was expecting her two other three year olds to pull their weight. Frozen Motion was going on vacation and so too was Fiery Touch after winning their races in June Week Four. It was unfortunate that Ripley's whole attention could be placed on Ashes to Ashes and Screaming Mimi just when they had filled to pick up the win just the week before.
Brooks glanced to the side of the track. His girlfriend casually leaned on the rail, her feet swallowed by the loamy dirt track. Her eyes were bright and razor sharp on her horses. The trainer knew exactly how to get horses to the championship levels and Brooks would do everything in his power to help her out. She had overbearing tendencies when it came to the horses though, especially now that the season was nearing the fall campaigns when races became tougher and expectations grew harder to reach. Ashes moved brilliantly beneath him. He'd long ago stopped his stubborn streak when it came to training. The horse loved to run now and he loved to train, especially when his rival was tough and he considered her on equal ground. His chocolate eyes swept over Screaming Mimi's taller and bulkier frame.
The black Crescential mare was on her toes, neck bowed, ears flicking atop her fiery head. Maggie was so pleased with this horse. She was a demon to be around on the ground, her true Black Widow nature coming to light. However, she was a brilliant horse to ride. She could turn her speed off and on like a light switch, go from simply playing to absolutely dominating. Her return in the Saint-Anne Derby had been brilliant and her run in the Monrovia had been equally as strong. She just had not liked the surface on the day and would instead relish the dirt at The Wire in the Provincia. She would run against Xalbadora from Close Racing and Nightshade from Intrepid Racing Inc. Mims wanted this victory badly. Grades didn't matter to her. Grades just meant a horse had been racing longer than her. Mims was raw brilliance and she would collide with those top performers and expect to run to her greatest capabilities. Maggie could feel the hot lava heating up inside her black mare and she would relish the volcanic reaction when it finally occurred.
Ash was feeling just as devilish as his work mate. A big race was coming up. He could feel the excitement and tension building in the staff when they worked with him. The Prince of Wales was a 9.5 Furlong race and very much in Ashes to Ashes wheel house. He had been incredible in his recent races and had yet to finish out of the top three in Year Twelve. All of his career wins had come in Year Twelve and he was red hot at the moment despite the loss. Frozen Motion had similarly lost his prep race before stealing the Kentucky Open and Belmont Turf Classic at Green Horse Fields. Brookson knew the competition was going to be tough, with a lot of horses having run many more times than Ash. Only Instant Success and Apollo Bear were entered in the race at the moment. Paradise Island, Eternal Phantom and Euphoria's Warrior would possibly join in depending on the results of the Queen's Plate. Brooks felt tension build inside his body. After having run in the Turf Triple Crown, one would think the butterflies would calm down. However, Brooks was facing the same dilemma he had faced with Frozen Motion tackling Infinite Warcry. He was taking a strong and very talented grade four colt into the shark's lair and Brooks badly wanted success for this colt. He patted the horse's powerful neck and grinned when the horse let out a snort, spooking Mims, the mare was so into herself at the moment.
Maggie felt the electricity blooming within Screaming Mimi. The black filly was an absolute power house and pretty darn athletic. After her race in the Monrovia, Mims had cooled down quicker than any of the other competition and had not stopped her prancing and dancing for hours after the race. The mare just wanted to go and go and go. She truly desired to run and truly reveled in being the most powerful horse on the track. She was intimidating and drop dead gorgeous. She bobbed her head and eyed Ashes to Ashes with her blazing eyes. Ashes responded with a heart pounding buck, tossing his mane and flashing his prowess. His confidence was improving with every race and boy was he coming to the height of his three year old power. Ripley had been the first to speak about entering in the Prince of Wales Stakes. The woman was sure that Brooks would do well in the high level race with the colt he'd bounded with over a short period of time.
You ready Maggie? Maggie nodded and leaned forward, letting the long reins flop about Screaming Mimi's neck. The black filly immediately took up a ground swallowing, easy moving gallop. Her tongue bounced outside of her mouth and her ears twitched playfully above her head. She was a contrary and tough filly, but she had much heart and raw ability. Ashes to Ashes bounded alongside, much more serious in his movements. He'd become very intense in the barn and sometimes even aggressive. It wasn't like him and usually he was a goofy fixture in the barn. However, Brooks attributed it to the colt's boost of confidence while racing and he thought it was a very good thing. She wants a mile and a half gallop. Three furlong blow out.
Maggie and Brooks let the horses stroll out over the track, their big bodies spreading out. Their legs were elegant blurs, carrying large bodies quickly. There was nothing more powerful or brilliant than a thoroughbred in full flight. Especially if they happen to be yours for the keeping. Maggie ran her hands through the cobalt mane, smirking when Screaming Mimi flattened her ears in rage. She was all about being professional and hated personal attention. She bared her teeth and gave a skipping step. Ashes swept to the lead, ears pinned in his overwhelming excitement. The horse was more than willing to take the advantage and he leaped away for a one length lead. Mims switched leads right on cue, moved to his outside and stormed up to his haunches. Ash snorted irritably and neighed. Brooks shook the reins and the colt immediately settled down to business.
The pair calmed down for the first mile and a quarter. Ashes in the lead and Screaming Mimi still at his right haunch. She was a stiff competitor, but she knew how to settle in for the long haul. Ashes was still learning about settling down and responding to the rider, but his long workouts were really teaching him nicely how to rate. The Crooked Fire slowed to an easy moving stride, bobbing head up and down in time to the rhythm. He was such a brilliant colt and his attitude was shaping up to match his beautiful performances on the track. Mims' ears were still flopping enthusiastically on her head. She was eager according to the constant playing with the bit, but the four year old filly would allow Maggie to have the lead and say when to move.
The quarter of the mile before the three furlong blow out steadily grew more intense. Screaming Mimi truly began to wake up, her great body awakening as if she'd been in a long slumber. Ashes to Ashes felt her awaken and he immediately tensed up. The bay hurtled forward immediately putting a length between himself and the Crescential mare. He wanted to get a jump on her and blow the race open. The colt's ears were pinned to get a read on her. Brooks didn't move or breathe. His adrenalin was pumping and he didn't want the horse to get a cue from any movements. This workout had to be perfect. It had to set them up for their next start in the Prince of Wales.
Screaming Mimi bunched all of her muscles and bounded forward to be side by side with her workmate. She was full of herself and wanted to eye the sudden competitive fires burning alongside her. Maggie grinned. Oh this mare was a marvel to behold. There was just so much inside her that screamed brilliance. It was almost a tangible thing. Ashes to Ashes did not bat an eyelash when she came up to him. Instead he remained level, not letting her get the better of him and not giving up either. His stride was smooth as glass and he was just flowing over the dirt track. The pair kicked up a massive dust cloud behind them, their hooves rumbling throughout the morning.
The first furlong was here and in the same moment both riders dropped the long reins and the horses bolted. Screaming Mimi's great stride stuttered a little and Ashes took over by a half-length. He was a very agile horse and she was one as well, but she had to have warning before her get up and go became effective. The fiery mare was at his throat in under three seconds, her savage head poking for the lead in five. Ashes stuck it to her and picked up more speed, throwing in a steady charge. Mims was easily able to keep pace. Her mature frame still got the better of her younger and more enthusiastic counter part. Together they stormed down the homestretch. Reaching and bunching, blood pounding and fire burning. There was no hold over either of the horses now. They moved together side by side, throwing the gauntlet down and doing their best to outrun their opponent, their very own stable mate.
Ashes ground his teeth around the warming bit, his eyes lighting up with a gleam that only appeared in his demonstrative races. The Black Widow pinned her ears and lurched forward to join him, nose and nose, in the desperate race for the wire. The pair crossed together and the riders pulled them up, eyes bright with excitement. They'd had to contain their enthusiasm. The true self-expression would come in the duration of the next race. Ashes and Mims did not want to pull up for their lives. They kept at one another and stayed together, knees lifting excitedly to meet the challenge of the rush of wind. A strong gallop after such a long workout was pretty impressive. Maggie and Brooks finally got them down to an excitable walk and grinned at one another. Oh they would put up a solid fight in a few days. No they would not forfeit victory so easily.
Brooks glanced to the side of the track. His girlfriend casually leaned on the rail, her feet swallowed by the loamy dirt track. Her eyes were bright and razor sharp on her horses. The trainer knew exactly how to get horses to the championship levels and Brooks would do everything in his power to help her out. She had overbearing tendencies when it came to the horses though, especially now that the season was nearing the fall campaigns when races became tougher and expectations grew harder to reach. Ashes moved brilliantly beneath him. He'd long ago stopped his stubborn streak when it came to training. The horse loved to run now and he loved to train, especially when his rival was tough and he considered her on equal ground. His chocolate eyes swept over Screaming Mimi's taller and bulkier frame.
The black Crescential mare was on her toes, neck bowed, ears flicking atop her fiery head. Maggie was so pleased with this horse. She was a demon to be around on the ground, her true Black Widow nature coming to light. However, she was a brilliant horse to ride. She could turn her speed off and on like a light switch, go from simply playing to absolutely dominating. Her return in the Saint-Anne Derby had been brilliant and her run in the Monrovia had been equally as strong. She just had not liked the surface on the day and would instead relish the dirt at The Wire in the Provincia. She would run against Xalbadora from Close Racing and Nightshade from Intrepid Racing Inc. Mims wanted this victory badly. Grades didn't matter to her. Grades just meant a horse had been racing longer than her. Mims was raw brilliance and she would collide with those top performers and expect to run to her greatest capabilities. Maggie could feel the hot lava heating up inside her black mare and she would relish the volcanic reaction when it finally occurred.
Ash was feeling just as devilish as his work mate. A big race was coming up. He could feel the excitement and tension building in the staff when they worked with him. The Prince of Wales was a 9.5 Furlong race and very much in Ashes to Ashes wheel house. He had been incredible in his recent races and had yet to finish out of the top three in Year Twelve. All of his career wins had come in Year Twelve and he was red hot at the moment despite the loss. Frozen Motion had similarly lost his prep race before stealing the Kentucky Open and Belmont Turf Classic at Green Horse Fields. Brookson knew the competition was going to be tough, with a lot of horses having run many more times than Ash. Only Instant Success and Apollo Bear were entered in the race at the moment. Paradise Island, Eternal Phantom and Euphoria's Warrior would possibly join in depending on the results of the Queen's Plate. Brooks felt tension build inside his body. After having run in the Turf Triple Crown, one would think the butterflies would calm down. However, Brooks was facing the same dilemma he had faced with Frozen Motion tackling Infinite Warcry. He was taking a strong and very talented grade four colt into the shark's lair and Brooks badly wanted success for this colt. He patted the horse's powerful neck and grinned when the horse let out a snort, spooking Mims, the mare was so into herself at the moment.
Maggie felt the electricity blooming within Screaming Mimi. The black filly was an absolute power house and pretty darn athletic. After her race in the Monrovia, Mims had cooled down quicker than any of the other competition and had not stopped her prancing and dancing for hours after the race. The mare just wanted to go and go and go. She truly desired to run and truly reveled in being the most powerful horse on the track. She was intimidating and drop dead gorgeous. She bobbed her head and eyed Ashes to Ashes with her blazing eyes. Ashes responded with a heart pounding buck, tossing his mane and flashing his prowess. His confidence was improving with every race and boy was he coming to the height of his three year old power. Ripley had been the first to speak about entering in the Prince of Wales Stakes. The woman was sure that Brooks would do well in the high level race with the colt he'd bounded with over a short period of time.
You ready Maggie? Maggie nodded and leaned forward, letting the long reins flop about Screaming Mimi's neck. The black filly immediately took up a ground swallowing, easy moving gallop. Her tongue bounced outside of her mouth and her ears twitched playfully above her head. She was a contrary and tough filly, but she had much heart and raw ability. Ashes to Ashes bounded alongside, much more serious in his movements. He'd become very intense in the barn and sometimes even aggressive. It wasn't like him and usually he was a goofy fixture in the barn. However, Brooks attributed it to the colt's boost of confidence while racing and he thought it was a very good thing. She wants a mile and a half gallop. Three furlong blow out.
Maggie and Brooks let the horses stroll out over the track, their big bodies spreading out. Their legs were elegant blurs, carrying large bodies quickly. There was nothing more powerful or brilliant than a thoroughbred in full flight. Especially if they happen to be yours for the keeping. Maggie ran her hands through the cobalt mane, smirking when Screaming Mimi flattened her ears in rage. She was all about being professional and hated personal attention. She bared her teeth and gave a skipping step. Ashes swept to the lead, ears pinned in his overwhelming excitement. The horse was more than willing to take the advantage and he leaped away for a one length lead. Mims switched leads right on cue, moved to his outside and stormed up to his haunches. Ash snorted irritably and neighed. Brooks shook the reins and the colt immediately settled down to business.
The pair calmed down for the first mile and a quarter. Ashes in the lead and Screaming Mimi still at his right haunch. She was a stiff competitor, but she knew how to settle in for the long haul. Ashes was still learning about settling down and responding to the rider, but his long workouts were really teaching him nicely how to rate. The Crooked Fire slowed to an easy moving stride, bobbing head up and down in time to the rhythm. He was such a brilliant colt and his attitude was shaping up to match his beautiful performances on the track. Mims' ears were still flopping enthusiastically on her head. She was eager according to the constant playing with the bit, but the four year old filly would allow Maggie to have the lead and say when to move.
The quarter of the mile before the three furlong blow out steadily grew more intense. Screaming Mimi truly began to wake up, her great body awakening as if she'd been in a long slumber. Ashes to Ashes felt her awaken and he immediately tensed up. The bay hurtled forward immediately putting a length between himself and the Crescential mare. He wanted to get a jump on her and blow the race open. The colt's ears were pinned to get a read on her. Brooks didn't move or breathe. His adrenalin was pumping and he didn't want the horse to get a cue from any movements. This workout had to be perfect. It had to set them up for their next start in the Prince of Wales.
Screaming Mimi bunched all of her muscles and bounded forward to be side by side with her workmate. She was full of herself and wanted to eye the sudden competitive fires burning alongside her. Maggie grinned. Oh this mare was a marvel to behold. There was just so much inside her that screamed brilliance. It was almost a tangible thing. Ashes to Ashes did not bat an eyelash when she came up to him. Instead he remained level, not letting her get the better of him and not giving up either. His stride was smooth as glass and he was just flowing over the dirt track. The pair kicked up a massive dust cloud behind them, their hooves rumbling throughout the morning.
The first furlong was here and in the same moment both riders dropped the long reins and the horses bolted. Screaming Mimi's great stride stuttered a little and Ashes took over by a half-length. He was a very agile horse and she was one as well, but she had to have warning before her get up and go became effective. The fiery mare was at his throat in under three seconds, her savage head poking for the lead in five. Ashes stuck it to her and picked up more speed, throwing in a steady charge. Mims was easily able to keep pace. Her mature frame still got the better of her younger and more enthusiastic counter part. Together they stormed down the homestretch. Reaching and bunching, blood pounding and fire burning. There was no hold over either of the horses now. They moved together side by side, throwing the gauntlet down and doing their best to outrun their opponent, their very own stable mate.
Ashes ground his teeth around the warming bit, his eyes lighting up with a gleam that only appeared in his demonstrative races. The Black Widow pinned her ears and lurched forward to join him, nose and nose, in the desperate race for the wire. The pair crossed together and the riders pulled them up, eyes bright with excitement. They'd had to contain their enthusiasm. The true self-expression would come in the duration of the next race. Ashes and Mims did not want to pull up for their lives. They kept at one another and stayed together, knees lifting excitedly to meet the challenge of the rush of wind. A strong gallop after such a long workout was pretty impressive. Maggie and Brooks finally got them down to an excitable walk and grinned at one another. Oh they would put up a solid fight in a few days. No they would not forfeit victory so easily.
red cross
The fall sun flickered through the trees surrounding the dirt training track at Witch Creek Stable. It's bright light was beautiful, the air containing that crisp feeling that always came with fall. Screaming Mimi and Ashes to Ashes had performed brilliantly in their work and now their younger counterparts were coming onto the track for their workout as well. The pair of two year olds were each returning off of a one month lay off with only five starts each to their names. They would be running pretty much for the rest of the year, culminating in serious bids in the Juvenile and Juvenile sprint at the end of the year. Brooks and Ripley were particularly excited for the return of these two. Red Herring, massive in his chest and hind end, strode hungrily over the track, eyes bright and extremely excited. The handsome ruby chestnut was a mass of energy and fighting brilliance. He was bored at the farm and had long since torn his stall and paddock apart in the anticipation. Everyone was happy to see him go off for his first race since his break.
Cross My Heart, on the other hand, would actually be missed. The slight black filly trotted confidently alongside her more excitable companion. Her jet black form was so much more relaxed than when she had first come to the barn. She was in fine form and had been enjoying long galloping trail rides for most of her time away from the main track. The filly had been on a tear in her gallops this week, sensing that she would be returning to the races as well. Unlike Red, Cross was beginning to believe that she was happy and content with her existence at Witch Creek. She was less nervous around Brooks, Connor and Justin. She didn't let them pet her just yet, but she had stopped her persistent screaming and stall tantrums. Ripley was so excited to be aboard the filly. The filly had finished first in two races and second in three others. She had yet to place out of the top two and was already reputed to be a tough customer on both the Green Horse Fields and The Wire race tracks. She had left off with a heart pounding victory in the Just Dance Cup May Week Four. There was no doubt, she had a bright future ahead of her. The farm wasn't calling to her just yet.
Red Herring let out a bone jarring buck then proceeded to rear up on his back legs, nostrils wide as saucers. Brooks let the big guy remain in his fierce stance, watching Cross and Ripley slip sneakily out of his striking range. Red was no patron saint, not by any means, however, he was one terrific race horse. His true power did not burn inside him like Cross'. He much like the filly, was a fierce runner. Neither of them took allowances during a race and they were like twins in their style. Red Herring possessed more stamina than the black filly from the Kill Auction, but his true talent would shine brightly come next season as a powerful three year old in the classic races.
Brooks leaned forward, knocking him down to earth and Red took off, tail a flutter. Brooks was about to pull him down when suddenly Cross went whipping by, Ripley leaning over the filly's withers. She sent a wicked look in his direction and his heart momentarily palpitated. Her hands didn't move as Cross flickered from full out sprint to easy going gallop. She usually was much harder to bring to hand and Brooks shook his head. If Cross began to show another dimension, the racing world and her sprint division would be in more trouble than they could possibly deserve. Red tossed his head violently, tongue straining against the warming bit. Brooks let him out a notch and he pushed forward excitedly to run level with Cross. Cross pinned her ears at Red and violently leaned into his shoulder, pushing the colt out a surprising length. The filly was tougher than she looked. Red grunted in annoyance and pushed back, only knocking her in three positions toward the rail. Brooks had to physically yank his star studded colt off the filly before she connected her teeth with his nicely muscled shoulder.
He met Ripley's bright green eyes, watched them sparkle beneath her goggles. The woman only wore them when she expected a long blistering run. Her auburn hair flicked back over her shoulder and then forward when the wind pushed in violently, letting the tendrils mingle with Cross' jet mane. You run until I say stop Brooks. Brooks shivered, feeling a magic in her power over him. Ripley nodded to Red. I want to see how these two go together. And that was that. She faced forward, let her reins slip through her fingers and sparks flickered from Cross' hooves as she surged forward. Brooks shook his head and let Red Herring fly forward to catch her. The chestnut tossed his head viciously when Brooks caught him up again. Something about Cross caused the bright chestnut annoyance and will to destroy her. The black filly felt the same though, though Ripley. She was fired up and on her toes. Her gallop was not the confident one anymore. It was blistering and powerful. Cross had found comfort in herself and another level to her inner strength on her vacation.
The horses kicked over the dirt track, cruising over the track and drawing the wandering eyes of the staff working among the barns. Cross remained on the lead through the turn into the backstretch, her small body not even straining to keep up with her burly workmate. She was all dark flames, a vicious dragon throwing down the gauntlet to the rowdy knight roaring up to meet her. Brooks felt raw power knocking within Red Herring's frame. The blaze faced two year old was impressed with Cross' impressive speed and did not even try to press her on which was quite unusual for him. He remained a neck back, moving well within himself, his legs pulling and reaching to cover the loamy sand and dirt. Brooks reveled in the partnership he felt with this horse. For all of Red's hostility in the barn and in the lead up to the run, he was a very willing and very intense partner to have.
Ripley let Cross set a brutal pace around the track. The dark flame was growing to a burning wildfire and she was absolutely wild in her run. Ripley had no grip on the filly's mouth. The black filly with the white star was just an amazingly cruel workmate. She wasn't out to play games, rather she was out to search and destroy. She could sustain this brutal pace up to eight furlongs. Ripley hadn't wanted something long and slow for Cross. The filly had settled down too much in her vacation at Witch Creek. It was time to awaken the flighty athlete that had been shelled by the more relaxed disguise.
Red Herring was giving Cross no trouble at the moment. He relaxed nicely into Brookson's hands, confident and ready to roll at a moment's notice. Everyone was well aware that every race against Red Herring would be a tough one, especially if you were a guaranteed leader. Cross, however, was just as much a dog fighter. She fluttered her ears over her savage black eyed and ran eye to eye with Red Herring. She was a tough lady and she would be more than ready for her return to the races. Ripley leaned close, whispering into the filly's ear, a grin spreading over her face. Cross was a brilliant horse who deserved more than she had been given in the world already.
They kicked over the course, launching dirt clouds and clumps in their wake, confident as always. They weren't quite galloping and weren't quite racing, but a solid medium. The clip had to be fast and brutal, but you would never guess based on the appearances of either colt or filly. Ripley let the reins out entering the homestretch on Cross and filly immediately tightened the slack, her stride and speed increasing almost two fold. Her body was pumped with her adrenaline and her eyes were red with wildness as she stormed away from Red Herring. Red didn't have the kind of take off the filly from nowhere had. Brooks shook the reins and booted the powerful chestnut forward. Two strides in and Red was gunning full flight on the black filly's outside,
It was a horse race now and one Ripley was not going to be content to lose. Cross scorched the ground beneath her, defying the onslaught of whipping wind and the powerful form thundering along beside her. She lifted her head high and kicked into another gear, taking up a chorus of snorting when Red didn't fall back as he had before. Brooks face split into a grim grin. Oh, Red Herring was much more than some random horse for Cross to pick on. He was a handful and he bolted forward, hitting another gear as well, a more powerful one. Cross fell back to his neck, surprised, but not dazed. Ripley didn't have to touch her in order for her to catch. Her black mane and tail whipped out behind her as she made a charge after her mate, surging up his inside.
They chipped at each other's armor, giving each other Hell, but they were each others perfect match. Frustrations built up in both horses and pumped them up for the next race when they would be taking on possibly competition with dissimilar styles. Cross squealed and Red pinned his ears as they cranked it into the final turn once again, covering two miles at a blistering pace. Cross was not even tired and Red was just getting started. They whooshed up the track, legs a ghostly blur in the afternoon light. The staff watched as the pair of two year olds stuck to each other like glue. The wire whipped by and the riders fought drastically to pull their horses up. Cross let out a bone crushing buck and Red yanked hard on the bit, still battling and fighting each other for that coveted lead. Brooks slammed his butt in the saddle and spun Red around like a true reiner. Luckily, the colt still remembered previous training from Arizona. Cross squealed and let out a trio of three bucks, but relented when she no longer felt Red's brawny presence. The riders were pumped with their own excitement and ready for the next battle, just like their battle-proven, battle-tested mounts.
Cross My Heart, on the other hand, would actually be missed. The slight black filly trotted confidently alongside her more excitable companion. Her jet black form was so much more relaxed than when she had first come to the barn. She was in fine form and had been enjoying long galloping trail rides for most of her time away from the main track. The filly had been on a tear in her gallops this week, sensing that she would be returning to the races as well. Unlike Red, Cross was beginning to believe that she was happy and content with her existence at Witch Creek. She was less nervous around Brooks, Connor and Justin. She didn't let them pet her just yet, but she had stopped her persistent screaming and stall tantrums. Ripley was so excited to be aboard the filly. The filly had finished first in two races and second in three others. She had yet to place out of the top two and was already reputed to be a tough customer on both the Green Horse Fields and The Wire race tracks. She had left off with a heart pounding victory in the Just Dance Cup May Week Four. There was no doubt, she had a bright future ahead of her. The farm wasn't calling to her just yet.
Red Herring let out a bone jarring buck then proceeded to rear up on his back legs, nostrils wide as saucers. Brooks let the big guy remain in his fierce stance, watching Cross and Ripley slip sneakily out of his striking range. Red was no patron saint, not by any means, however, he was one terrific race horse. His true power did not burn inside him like Cross'. He much like the filly, was a fierce runner. Neither of them took allowances during a race and they were like twins in their style. Red Herring possessed more stamina than the black filly from the Kill Auction, but his true talent would shine brightly come next season as a powerful three year old in the classic races.
Brooks leaned forward, knocking him down to earth and Red took off, tail a flutter. Brooks was about to pull him down when suddenly Cross went whipping by, Ripley leaning over the filly's withers. She sent a wicked look in his direction and his heart momentarily palpitated. Her hands didn't move as Cross flickered from full out sprint to easy going gallop. She usually was much harder to bring to hand and Brooks shook his head. If Cross began to show another dimension, the racing world and her sprint division would be in more trouble than they could possibly deserve. Red tossed his head violently, tongue straining against the warming bit. Brooks let him out a notch and he pushed forward excitedly to run level with Cross. Cross pinned her ears at Red and violently leaned into his shoulder, pushing the colt out a surprising length. The filly was tougher than she looked. Red grunted in annoyance and pushed back, only knocking her in three positions toward the rail. Brooks had to physically yank his star studded colt off the filly before she connected her teeth with his nicely muscled shoulder.
He met Ripley's bright green eyes, watched them sparkle beneath her goggles. The woman only wore them when she expected a long blistering run. Her auburn hair flicked back over her shoulder and then forward when the wind pushed in violently, letting the tendrils mingle with Cross' jet mane. You run until I say stop Brooks. Brooks shivered, feeling a magic in her power over him. Ripley nodded to Red. I want to see how these two go together. And that was that. She faced forward, let her reins slip through her fingers and sparks flickered from Cross' hooves as she surged forward. Brooks shook his head and let Red Herring fly forward to catch her. The chestnut tossed his head viciously when Brooks caught him up again. Something about Cross caused the bright chestnut annoyance and will to destroy her. The black filly felt the same though, though Ripley. She was fired up and on her toes. Her gallop was not the confident one anymore. It was blistering and powerful. Cross had found comfort in herself and another level to her inner strength on her vacation.
The horses kicked over the dirt track, cruising over the track and drawing the wandering eyes of the staff working among the barns. Cross remained on the lead through the turn into the backstretch, her small body not even straining to keep up with her burly workmate. She was all dark flames, a vicious dragon throwing down the gauntlet to the rowdy knight roaring up to meet her. Brooks felt raw power knocking within Red Herring's frame. The blaze faced two year old was impressed with Cross' impressive speed and did not even try to press her on which was quite unusual for him. He remained a neck back, moving well within himself, his legs pulling and reaching to cover the loamy sand and dirt. Brooks reveled in the partnership he felt with this horse. For all of Red's hostility in the barn and in the lead up to the run, he was a very willing and very intense partner to have.
Ripley let Cross set a brutal pace around the track. The dark flame was growing to a burning wildfire and she was absolutely wild in her run. Ripley had no grip on the filly's mouth. The black filly with the white star was just an amazingly cruel workmate. She wasn't out to play games, rather she was out to search and destroy. She could sustain this brutal pace up to eight furlongs. Ripley hadn't wanted something long and slow for Cross. The filly had settled down too much in her vacation at Witch Creek. It was time to awaken the flighty athlete that had been shelled by the more relaxed disguise.
Red Herring was giving Cross no trouble at the moment. He relaxed nicely into Brookson's hands, confident and ready to roll at a moment's notice. Everyone was well aware that every race against Red Herring would be a tough one, especially if you were a guaranteed leader. Cross, however, was just as much a dog fighter. She fluttered her ears over her savage black eyed and ran eye to eye with Red Herring. She was a tough lady and she would be more than ready for her return to the races. Ripley leaned close, whispering into the filly's ear, a grin spreading over her face. Cross was a brilliant horse who deserved more than she had been given in the world already.
They kicked over the course, launching dirt clouds and clumps in their wake, confident as always. They weren't quite galloping and weren't quite racing, but a solid medium. The clip had to be fast and brutal, but you would never guess based on the appearances of either colt or filly. Ripley let the reins out entering the homestretch on Cross and filly immediately tightened the slack, her stride and speed increasing almost two fold. Her body was pumped with her adrenaline and her eyes were red with wildness as she stormed away from Red Herring. Red didn't have the kind of take off the filly from nowhere had. Brooks shook the reins and booted the powerful chestnut forward. Two strides in and Red was gunning full flight on the black filly's outside,
It was a horse race now and one Ripley was not going to be content to lose. Cross scorched the ground beneath her, defying the onslaught of whipping wind and the powerful form thundering along beside her. She lifted her head high and kicked into another gear, taking up a chorus of snorting when Red didn't fall back as he had before. Brooks face split into a grim grin. Oh, Red Herring was much more than some random horse for Cross to pick on. He was a handful and he bolted forward, hitting another gear as well, a more powerful one. Cross fell back to his neck, surprised, but not dazed. Ripley didn't have to touch her in order for her to catch. Her black mane and tail whipped out behind her as she made a charge after her mate, surging up his inside.
They chipped at each other's armor, giving each other Hell, but they were each others perfect match. Frustrations built up in both horses and pumped them up for the next race when they would be taking on possibly competition with dissimilar styles. Cross squealed and Red pinned his ears as they cranked it into the final turn once again, covering two miles at a blistering pace. Cross was not even tired and Red was just getting started. They whooshed up the track, legs a ghostly blur in the afternoon light. The staff watched as the pair of two year olds stuck to each other like glue. The wire whipped by and the riders fought drastically to pull their horses up. Cross let out a bone crushing buck and Red yanked hard on the bit, still battling and fighting each other for that coveted lead. Brooks slammed his butt in the saddle and spun Red around like a true reiner. Luckily, the colt still remembered previous training from Arizona. Cross squealed and let out a trio of three bucks, but relented when she no longer felt Red's brawny presence. The riders were pumped with their own excitement and ready for the next battle, just like their battle-proven, battle-tested mounts.