"It is possible that we have the best two dirt colts, outside of Great Revenge, in the country," Brooks remarked as he tacked Sun King up for the day's workout. The chestnut stallion shown like a ruby diamond beneath his rough hands. The Native Flame and El Sol Del Mar colt truly was a gem. He was not brilliant like his older brother. Instead, the colt was described as monstrous. He was large and he was tough. He was a fierce competitor and the kind of horse that had enough talent to last years and still improve. Brooks adored Sun King. There was just something about the muscular colt that called his name. Perhaps, the unmarked creature, reminded him of Red Herring. Ripley patted Saint's neck as she stood from wrapping his legs in bandages. Saint was a glorious looking animal. Not as muscular as Sun King or as regal in the head. He had the head of a prehistoric colt, straight and broad. He had an honest look to him and he was an honest horse. Saint had his moments of bully attitude, but you had plenty of warning. He was a stubborn horse and he let you know when he was displeased. He was also one of the most courageous. He had the kind of nature that just pulled Ripley in. He reminded her of Cross and his half-sibling Hourglass. She had the same kind of never-surrender attitude as the near black colt. Saint would bull his way through holes that didn't exist, would just keep coming despite impossible odds and manage to win. He wasn't flashy, but he got the job done. Saint used himself harder than Sun King. His durability would increase with age and time. King had the naturally fast and natural lasting power from his dam. Saint needed a little rest to be nearly as effective. Times were changing though. Saint had grown a bit since his last start. He was larger in the shoulder and butt muscles. He had dapples and looked in good health. Sun King had faced Saint before in a workout, but this was a newer version. And improved one. "Could be, Brooks," Ripley said as she mounted. "But we still have to beat Great Revenge to get top colt honors. So time to get to work or we'll never achieve that goal." Brooks nodded, grinned when he'd settled into the saddle. King moved into his powerful work, flicking his tail in Saint's face as he passed. "No one's made you King of the Hill quite yet, chief." Saint bared his teeth behind King's back, not daring to bite with Ripley on his back. Sometimes the chestnut colt just made him livid. The near-black horse pranced beneath her, neck bowed and legs cocked in perfect dressage tradition. Saint was definitely a hotter horse these days. Perhaps that would equal more flying speed. The chestnut King led the way onto the track, prancing vivaciously until Brooks released him. With a flurry of movement, the son of Native Flame bolted into a gallop, snorting and bucking as he went. Brooks chuckled after he caught his seat, leaning close to the energetic creature. King was on his game, moreso than ever before. The blond man let the reins soar through his gloved fingers until the colt had reached the chosen speed. Less keen on bolting away, Saint strode into his fluid gallop, tossing his savage head into the air and looking every inch the Night Stalker baby. Ripley rested her hands at the colt's withers as he rumbled over the track, eyes blazing with joy. She'd have to give this up soon enough. Her career was coming to a close for a year after December. She'd miss it greatly, miss being apart of this dashingly handsome animal's journey. Sadness tinged her for a moment, but only until Saint put on a burst of speed and rounded up on King's outside. The pair powered through the first furlongs impressively, eyes lighting up with competitiveness. King loomed over Saint, but not as much as before. The near-black colt was full of inner rage. He was tired of losing and he equaled the black with his nemesis Great Revenge. Usually a mid-pack horse, the Night Stalker colt was bull-headed about running head and head with King. King, used to being dogged, gave it right back, with a fury that only came with his own frustrations. Ripley and Brooks sat still as stones in the saddle, inwardly impressed with both colts' performances so far. King still held the advantage by a neck as he rolled into the homestretch, but Saint was relentless in his rally. The near black colt hit another gear upon switching his leads, almost overwhelming King. A nose in front, then a neck, but it didn't last. Brooks felt the eruption beneath him and grinned. King launched forward, digging in with a monstrous effort. Saint retaliated and would not give in, would not wave the white flag. The pair stormed across the wire, head and head in a tremendous display of stamina and speed. Both riders stood in their stirrups after the finish, blazing smiles overtaking their faces. Great Revenge was the big horse from now, but King and Saint could only improve from here.
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