Raise The Moon
Blue Moon & Tigris Greenfire
Toss Up & Savita Tusaint
Toss Up & Savita Tusaint
And just like that, before anyone even noticed, Year Fifteen was over. The Christmas and New Years parties were thrown, regretted, and the staff were on to the new year with thoughts of hangovers and vows never to drink again behind them. The first order of business, as with every year, was to get the new juveniles onto the track and repped before their first starts came around. Four Valkyrie juveniles were making their debuts the first week of the year, and Cole hadn't been shy when speaking of the quality and talent he saw in this year's crop. While he knew there was going to be even more competition than last year, all he could do was focus on getting his horses ready to compete to their best ability.
The first pair onto the track for the year were the year's dirt sprinters, a Gold Storm filly and a Gamble On Peace colt. Blue Moon, out of the maiden mare Eclipse, was bred at Valkyrie in an opportunistic move when the young sire was barely making his mark on the scene with daughter Nirvana. However, Moony seemed to be shaping into more of a true sprinter than Nirvana, without the extra distance that Southern Peach had exhibited. No, Moony would hit a mile at most, though she'd be more suited for the shortest distances. Why? Because the filly was the strongest juvenile dirt sprinter that Valkyrie had ever had, and Cole knew this before she'd even made her first start. She was quicksilver, sliding through the cracks and slipping past rivals before they even knew what hit them. Cole knew that as she grew older, she'd truly become a piece of art - as it was, she was raw talent and already got her trainer's pulse beating with excitement. Between her and Wings of Jayde, it was going to be a very good sprinting year for the farm.
Tigris had drawn the mount on the filly, given that some of her quirky mannerisms were reminiscent of Shenanigans' stunts. "Not nearly as much of a headcase though," the jet-haired rider commented, getting a leg from Cole into the saddle. The filly sidled sideways, attention rolling out to the track already, but a firm hand on the reins from Cole kept her in place. "Maybe not," Cole agreed, "but don't let your guard down either. I don't want to be chasing a loose horse around so close to her first race."
Cole was saved from what would likely have been a scathing retort from his son's friend by a commotion coming from behind. For a second he couldn't turn to see what was happening, since he suddenly had his hands full with a skittering, startled Moony, but he caught a glance at the smothered smile on Tigris' face. Turning, Cole could see why, and he nearly rolled his eyes at Tigris' enjoyment.
Savita, who'd drawn the straw on the other juvenile to work, was rising off of the ground red-faced and brushing dirt from her jeans. Toss Up was still thrashing against Desmond, who had been holding the colt for mounting - however, something had obviously set the heavily-built chestnut off, resulting in his rider on the ground. Desmond was doing a commendable job holding onto the horse, whose ears were pinned and forelegs were striking out, and it was just one of those tense situations that just needed a moment to either settle or escalate. With a sharp whinny, the chestnut finally stopped fighting, tossing his head and blowing an irritable breath. "And who was going to end up with a horse loose?" Tigris asked cheekily, and Cole turned him loose on the track before Savita could storm over. "No, you get on your horse. Ignore him."
"He's such... he's such an ass!" the girl sputtered, now red with both embarrassment and anger. Cole patted her shoulder and turned her back to Tor, who still sported a sour face and didn't look likely to sweeten his mood anytime soon. "He is what he is. You need to do your job." Still grumbling, Cole got her back to the horse and mounted, despite some irritable head-throwing by the colt. Toss Up, a half-brother to Passionate God, was a bit more ill-tempered and faster than the bay. However, he would never be good for the shortest sprints - somewhere in between longer sprints and miles were likely the colt's niche.
As soon as Savita was situated, they let the eager colt out onto the track. He immediately tried to take off, charging with his hindquarters and throwing his nose in the air. Savita, to her credit, was able to crank the impressively strong colt's head to the side, knuckles white with the force of her grip as she attempted to settle him in beside Moony. "Let's hurry this up," she grit out, and after the minimal amount of canter she could safely put him through before the work, she eased her grip fractionally to let him take the lead at a gallop. And take the lead he did, striking out with a confident boldness that was hard to find in a fresh juvenile. Like the police dog that had never been injured in the line of duty, he was incredibly brave and unflinching. And now that he was allowed some speed, he slowly relaxed as they started the breeze, Moony a few lengths behind. They were going three furlongs, and the short distance was right in both of their wheelhouses. They roared around the turn, though both riders were careful to keep their mounts from overextending. As they entered the stretch, Tor began to drift out from the rail. Savita could hear the rapidly approaching strides of the filly, and she hurriedly pulled out her whip and tapped the colt on the outside to correct his path. He jumped, stride faltering, but he did straighten out and regain his rhythm after a moment. However, that hesitation and break of concentration was enough to give the filly the green light, and she inched past Tor as they went by the wire.
Irked, Savita drew the colt up quickly rather than galloping him out - asking him to gradually slow down generally made him angry, so it was best just to dismount as soon as possible. "Drifted a bit, hmm?" Cole inquired as she rode by, and Savita nodded with a sigh. "Won't be much of an issue in a race, 'cause I'll make sure to correct him straight. Damned if I'm happy to let Tigris win today, though..." She hurried off before Cole could remind her, for the thousandth time, that these works were not competition. It always fell on deaf ears, though - Tigris was grinning like a pleased cat as he rode by. They were all pigheaded and brash, but that's what made them such strong riders.
The first pair onto the track for the year were the year's dirt sprinters, a Gold Storm filly and a Gamble On Peace colt. Blue Moon, out of the maiden mare Eclipse, was bred at Valkyrie in an opportunistic move when the young sire was barely making his mark on the scene with daughter Nirvana. However, Moony seemed to be shaping into more of a true sprinter than Nirvana, without the extra distance that Southern Peach had exhibited. No, Moony would hit a mile at most, though she'd be more suited for the shortest distances. Why? Because the filly was the strongest juvenile dirt sprinter that Valkyrie had ever had, and Cole knew this before she'd even made her first start. She was quicksilver, sliding through the cracks and slipping past rivals before they even knew what hit them. Cole knew that as she grew older, she'd truly become a piece of art - as it was, she was raw talent and already got her trainer's pulse beating with excitement. Between her and Wings of Jayde, it was going to be a very good sprinting year for the farm.
Tigris had drawn the mount on the filly, given that some of her quirky mannerisms were reminiscent of Shenanigans' stunts. "Not nearly as much of a headcase though," the jet-haired rider commented, getting a leg from Cole into the saddle. The filly sidled sideways, attention rolling out to the track already, but a firm hand on the reins from Cole kept her in place. "Maybe not," Cole agreed, "but don't let your guard down either. I don't want to be chasing a loose horse around so close to her first race."
Cole was saved from what would likely have been a scathing retort from his son's friend by a commotion coming from behind. For a second he couldn't turn to see what was happening, since he suddenly had his hands full with a skittering, startled Moony, but he caught a glance at the smothered smile on Tigris' face. Turning, Cole could see why, and he nearly rolled his eyes at Tigris' enjoyment.
Savita, who'd drawn the straw on the other juvenile to work, was rising off of the ground red-faced and brushing dirt from her jeans. Toss Up was still thrashing against Desmond, who had been holding the colt for mounting - however, something had obviously set the heavily-built chestnut off, resulting in his rider on the ground. Desmond was doing a commendable job holding onto the horse, whose ears were pinned and forelegs were striking out, and it was just one of those tense situations that just needed a moment to either settle or escalate. With a sharp whinny, the chestnut finally stopped fighting, tossing his head and blowing an irritable breath. "And who was going to end up with a horse loose?" Tigris asked cheekily, and Cole turned him loose on the track before Savita could storm over. "No, you get on your horse. Ignore him."
"He's such... he's such an ass!" the girl sputtered, now red with both embarrassment and anger. Cole patted her shoulder and turned her back to Tor, who still sported a sour face and didn't look likely to sweeten his mood anytime soon. "He is what he is. You need to do your job." Still grumbling, Cole got her back to the horse and mounted, despite some irritable head-throwing by the colt. Toss Up, a half-brother to Passionate God, was a bit more ill-tempered and faster than the bay. However, he would never be good for the shortest sprints - somewhere in between longer sprints and miles were likely the colt's niche.
As soon as Savita was situated, they let the eager colt out onto the track. He immediately tried to take off, charging with his hindquarters and throwing his nose in the air. Savita, to her credit, was able to crank the impressively strong colt's head to the side, knuckles white with the force of her grip as she attempted to settle him in beside Moony. "Let's hurry this up," she grit out, and after the minimal amount of canter she could safely put him through before the work, she eased her grip fractionally to let him take the lead at a gallop. And take the lead he did, striking out with a confident boldness that was hard to find in a fresh juvenile. Like the police dog that had never been injured in the line of duty, he was incredibly brave and unflinching. And now that he was allowed some speed, he slowly relaxed as they started the breeze, Moony a few lengths behind. They were going three furlongs, and the short distance was right in both of their wheelhouses. They roared around the turn, though both riders were careful to keep their mounts from overextending. As they entered the stretch, Tor began to drift out from the rail. Savita could hear the rapidly approaching strides of the filly, and she hurriedly pulled out her whip and tapped the colt on the outside to correct his path. He jumped, stride faltering, but he did straighten out and regain his rhythm after a moment. However, that hesitation and break of concentration was enough to give the filly the green light, and she inched past Tor as they went by the wire.
Irked, Savita drew the colt up quickly rather than galloping him out - asking him to gradually slow down generally made him angry, so it was best just to dismount as soon as possible. "Drifted a bit, hmm?" Cole inquired as she rode by, and Savita nodded with a sigh. "Won't be much of an issue in a race, 'cause I'll make sure to correct him straight. Damned if I'm happy to let Tigris win today, though..." She hurried off before Cole could remind her, for the thousandth time, that these works were not competition. It always fell on deaf ears, though - Tigris was grinning like a pleased cat as he rode by. They were all pigheaded and brash, but that's what made them such strong riders.
The Golden Children
Flawless Majesty & Halexia Suhail
Wings of Jayde & Vivien Charron
Wings of Jayde & Vivien Charron
If asked who the two most anticipated juveniles were for Year Sixteen, the names Flawless Majesty and Wings of Jayde would be easily the first in that discussion. Flawless Majesty, the blueblood bred the first year Flawed Princess came to Valkyrie, had all the makings of a long turf miler and a very high quality one at that. Sired by the very successful sire Gorgeous George, Maj was related through the sire to three very successful grade one winners, including Valkyrie's own Beautiful Liar. And when he was being focused, he truly looked the part - tall, strong, with the wide hooves of a turfer. Unfortunately...
"Maj, do not bite her!" came the so-rarely-stern voice of Halexia Suhail, followed by the smacking sound of a hand on horseflesh. A bay head spun to the front with a looking of sulking indignation, though his ears were back for only a moment before his curiosity was otherwise caught. Hal rolled her eyes, urging the horse forward away from Wings of Jayde, who was oblivious in her prancing, already-sweating eagerness to the bite to the shoulder she nearly received. Wings of Jayde had been a late claim of breeding reserve by Valkyrie, gaining her as a yearling. And her breeding readily reflected the good relationship between Stride of Perfection and Valkyrie - with her rockstar parents, Winnie was beyond poised to explode onto the scene. Like her siblings, she seemed to have the brilliant, raw speed to make her the truest of sprinters - and potentially the filly to start her mother's great legacy. There were no excuses with this one, and excitement for her was high. Drawing the mount, and being given a great vote of confidence, was Vivien Charron. He had done wonders with Santana's Legend in Year Fifteen, and Cole had a feeling the horse and rider would have the same great affinity. "Keep them a bit away from each other to warm up, Hal - pay attention to your horse. Once they start running I doubt it'll be an issue." They were running three furlongs, and Cole expected some early short-distance separation between Maj and the filly.
True to form, Winnie's coat was already darkening as they trotted down the track, Hal with Maj about a length in front of Winnie and the blonde. Maj just loped along easily, throwing in a buck here or there, putting confidence in the staff just by seeing his excited and eager mood. Winnie, for her part, was fairly relaxed despite her sweating - she didn't fight for a lead, instead waiting patiently for her rider to give her the okay to go. That maturity was in and of itself a gift, and on top of her intelligence, she was a huge force to be reckoned with and a pleasure to work with. When they finally buckled down for the run, Hal got Maj into a hot pace, giving Winnie a real target to chase despite his affinity for more stamina. Vivien sat relaxed on the filly as Maj drew off to four lengths ahead on the turn before he gave Winnie the reins to run. He was prepared for the kick of speed from the filly, otherwise he would have been thrown off-balance - as it was, fingers tangled in her dark mane, he let her give chase. She accelerated like a fighter plane, locked into the bay in front of her and driving forward with incredible determination to close on him. She seemed to have an inherit knack for timing, because even without Vivien truly guiding her, she managed to draw alongside Maj for just a moment before a final lunge to get her head over at the wire.
"She was playing," Vivien said later with a smile as he dismounted in front of the trainer. Cole gave a half-smile, waving the stopwatch in his hand lightly. "I know. That wasn't nearly as fast as she can go." In bigger company, Winnie was more likely to try and draw away from a challenge - sometime, though, in smaller works like this, she showed a bit of vindictive nature. Flawless Majesty, for his part, looked absolutely fresh next to Winnie's sweating form, throwing his head eagerly as if he wasn't quite ready to leave his playground.
They were the golden children; the legacy. And they were as prepared as they could be to show their worth to the world.
"Maj, do not bite her!" came the so-rarely-stern voice of Halexia Suhail, followed by the smacking sound of a hand on horseflesh. A bay head spun to the front with a looking of sulking indignation, though his ears were back for only a moment before his curiosity was otherwise caught. Hal rolled her eyes, urging the horse forward away from Wings of Jayde, who was oblivious in her prancing, already-sweating eagerness to the bite to the shoulder she nearly received. Wings of Jayde had been a late claim of breeding reserve by Valkyrie, gaining her as a yearling. And her breeding readily reflected the good relationship between Stride of Perfection and Valkyrie - with her rockstar parents, Winnie was beyond poised to explode onto the scene. Like her siblings, she seemed to have the brilliant, raw speed to make her the truest of sprinters - and potentially the filly to start her mother's great legacy. There were no excuses with this one, and excitement for her was high. Drawing the mount, and being given a great vote of confidence, was Vivien Charron. He had done wonders with Santana's Legend in Year Fifteen, and Cole had a feeling the horse and rider would have the same great affinity. "Keep them a bit away from each other to warm up, Hal - pay attention to your horse. Once they start running I doubt it'll be an issue." They were running three furlongs, and Cole expected some early short-distance separation between Maj and the filly.
True to form, Winnie's coat was already darkening as they trotted down the track, Hal with Maj about a length in front of Winnie and the blonde. Maj just loped along easily, throwing in a buck here or there, putting confidence in the staff just by seeing his excited and eager mood. Winnie, for her part, was fairly relaxed despite her sweating - she didn't fight for a lead, instead waiting patiently for her rider to give her the okay to go. That maturity was in and of itself a gift, and on top of her intelligence, she was a huge force to be reckoned with and a pleasure to work with. When they finally buckled down for the run, Hal got Maj into a hot pace, giving Winnie a real target to chase despite his affinity for more stamina. Vivien sat relaxed on the filly as Maj drew off to four lengths ahead on the turn before he gave Winnie the reins to run. He was prepared for the kick of speed from the filly, otherwise he would have been thrown off-balance - as it was, fingers tangled in her dark mane, he let her give chase. She accelerated like a fighter plane, locked into the bay in front of her and driving forward with incredible determination to close on him. She seemed to have an inherit knack for timing, because even without Vivien truly guiding her, she managed to draw alongside Maj for just a moment before a final lunge to get her head over at the wire.
"She was playing," Vivien said later with a smile as he dismounted in front of the trainer. Cole gave a half-smile, waving the stopwatch in his hand lightly. "I know. That wasn't nearly as fast as she can go." In bigger company, Winnie was more likely to try and draw away from a challenge - sometime, though, in smaller works like this, she showed a bit of vindictive nature. Flawless Majesty, for his part, looked absolutely fresh next to Winnie's sweating form, throwing his head eagerly as if he wasn't quite ready to leave his playground.
They were the golden children; the legacy. And they were as prepared as they could be to show their worth to the world.
Storm
Hurricane & Halexia Suhail
"Who do you want to be? How do you want to be remembered?"
Cole had challenged them all early, asking them to set some real goals on the season and strive for them as the year went on. Hal hadn't meant to be rude or uncooperative, but she rarely meant it. She simply felt the entire exercise to be, well... pointless. Are we ever the same people were were the day before? Hal had trouble listening to the advice and orders of others in the present moment, let alone a missive from her past self on what she should be achieving. That simply wasn't how she lived her life, and really everyone accepted that - if she wanted to live day-to-day, that would be fine, especially given the success she'd had on her own merits. She'd been the only Valkyrie jockey to nab a Breeders' Cup race in year fifteen, on top of her success with Baciami in taking him to a second in the Kentucky Derby and a win in the Red Mile series. While the year had been one of near-misses all around, she was the one who managed to get things done in spite of the odds. Given that, it was often best to just leave her to her own devices - especially when she fought like a wildcat to take her horses to the top.
Cole had decided late the previous year that he'd make a bit of a competition of things - the jockey to pull the most Breeders' Cup races would get first pick of juveniles come the new year. One of her picks was very expected - Flawless Majesty was one of Valkyrie's most anticipated horses, and he was going to be a strong mount regardless of who took him on. Hal had already proven her prowess on the colt, riding him to a win in his debut. Her second horse, however, was a bit more surprising for a choice. Hurricane was the opposite of Maj - while his sire was a Breeders' Cup winner, he was unproven as a sire and his dam was unproven as well. However, Cole couldn't deny there was a sort of spark in the grumpy colt, and besides, even if he could, Hal had the ability to bring out incredible hidden potential.
Despite his unproven pedigree, Hurricane was an impressive horse to behold. He wasn't the tallest, but he was well-balanced and nearly a perfect conformational specimen. He had a wide chest and strong haunches, as well as beautiful movement - everything he needed to set him up for success. Hal didn't care about any of that, though - she simply had a gut feeling that rarely led her wrong. Mounted on the big bay beast, Hal guided his nose away from Cole, who was checking the girth - while she didn't think Cane would bite, his pinned ears and sour lips lent her a bit of caution. "Don't let him overdo it, Hal. He'll run away with you if you're not careful." Cole motioned her out onto the dirt, and Hal nodded with a wry smile. "Just how I like them." And pointed in that direction, Cane began to show that overwhelming urge to run. He trotted out onto the track, tossing his head and already trying to muscle his way past the bridle. Hal kept her hands strong, keeping a steady stream of soothing words going as she practically wrestled with the big bay colt. He snorted, obviously agitated, but Hal kept him reined in for the warm-up as long as she could. When they were cantering, the colt took a number of rather dangerous leaps, charging strung-out to try and shake the reins from Hal's hands - or otherwise unseat her.
Sweat beading her temple, Hal kept him at low speed a few strides longer before she allowed the colt into a gallop. Surprisingly, he didn't rush into a headlong flight - once he was allowed to stretch his legs a bit, he gave an aggrieved shake of his head and then settled at the moderate pace she asked for. Hal let him get incrementally faster as they went, easing him into race speed, but as Cole had advised she did not let the colt get ahead of himself. He had finally reached a roaring pace as they flew by the finish, though it was only a few moments later that Hal pulled the Dark Charmer colt up. He pinned his ears immediately upon slowing, resuming his irritated attitude. Ah, well. As long as he loved to run, they wouldn't have too much trouble... though there was bound to be a few injuries along the way.
Cole had challenged them all early, asking them to set some real goals on the season and strive for them as the year went on. Hal hadn't meant to be rude or uncooperative, but she rarely meant it. She simply felt the entire exercise to be, well... pointless. Are we ever the same people were were the day before? Hal had trouble listening to the advice and orders of others in the present moment, let alone a missive from her past self on what she should be achieving. That simply wasn't how she lived her life, and really everyone accepted that - if she wanted to live day-to-day, that would be fine, especially given the success she'd had on her own merits. She'd been the only Valkyrie jockey to nab a Breeders' Cup race in year fifteen, on top of her success with Baciami in taking him to a second in the Kentucky Derby and a win in the Red Mile series. While the year had been one of near-misses all around, she was the one who managed to get things done in spite of the odds. Given that, it was often best to just leave her to her own devices - especially when she fought like a wildcat to take her horses to the top.
Cole had decided late the previous year that he'd make a bit of a competition of things - the jockey to pull the most Breeders' Cup races would get first pick of juveniles come the new year. One of her picks was very expected - Flawless Majesty was one of Valkyrie's most anticipated horses, and he was going to be a strong mount regardless of who took him on. Hal had already proven her prowess on the colt, riding him to a win in his debut. Her second horse, however, was a bit more surprising for a choice. Hurricane was the opposite of Maj - while his sire was a Breeders' Cup winner, he was unproven as a sire and his dam was unproven as well. However, Cole couldn't deny there was a sort of spark in the grumpy colt, and besides, even if he could, Hal had the ability to bring out incredible hidden potential.
Despite his unproven pedigree, Hurricane was an impressive horse to behold. He wasn't the tallest, but he was well-balanced and nearly a perfect conformational specimen. He had a wide chest and strong haunches, as well as beautiful movement - everything he needed to set him up for success. Hal didn't care about any of that, though - she simply had a gut feeling that rarely led her wrong. Mounted on the big bay beast, Hal guided his nose away from Cole, who was checking the girth - while she didn't think Cane would bite, his pinned ears and sour lips lent her a bit of caution. "Don't let him overdo it, Hal. He'll run away with you if you're not careful." Cole motioned her out onto the dirt, and Hal nodded with a wry smile. "Just how I like them." And pointed in that direction, Cane began to show that overwhelming urge to run. He trotted out onto the track, tossing his head and already trying to muscle his way past the bridle. Hal kept her hands strong, keeping a steady stream of soothing words going as she practically wrestled with the big bay colt. He snorted, obviously agitated, but Hal kept him reined in for the warm-up as long as she could. When they were cantering, the colt took a number of rather dangerous leaps, charging strung-out to try and shake the reins from Hal's hands - or otherwise unseat her.
Sweat beading her temple, Hal kept him at low speed a few strides longer before she allowed the colt into a gallop. Surprisingly, he didn't rush into a headlong flight - once he was allowed to stretch his legs a bit, he gave an aggrieved shake of his head and then settled at the moderate pace she asked for. Hal let him get incrementally faster as they went, easing him into race speed, but as Cole had advised she did not let the colt get ahead of himself. He had finally reached a roaring pace as they flew by the finish, though it was only a few moments later that Hal pulled the Dark Charmer colt up. He pinned his ears immediately upon slowing, resuming his irritated attitude. Ah, well. As long as he loved to run, they wouldn't have too much trouble... though there was bound to be a few injuries along the way.
Showman
Laddie Luck & Minske Mavecci
"Do you think you'll be able to handle it, old man? You're supposed to be retired." Tigris' voice rang out just outside the barn, and after a moment he slipped through the barn doors to stand outside of Laddie Luck's stall. Minske was saddling the colt, and rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his friend. "You're older than me, you ass. Come and hold him for me if you have time to just stand around." Despite his words, there was no heat in Minske's voice. He was too mild by nature for that, and besides, he knew his friends was simply teasing. And he deserved it, after his self-appointed retirement from jockeying to train for his father. However, in the course of training the youngstock he'd fallen in love with one particular horse and it just happened to be the bay he was currently getting ready to ride. Lad was such a character, and that's what had originally drawn Minske to him. But more than that, he was simply a magnificent individual of a horse. His dam, by the name of Castle Siege and one of Valkyrie's mares, was one of the most perfectly conformed horses any of them had ever seen. She was simply flawless. Because of that she was very highly anticipated as a broodmare, and the colt by Foolish Lad was her first to the track. Minske was determined to help the colt achieve greatness, and they'd bonded to the point he was ready to race him as well as start him.
Giving a rare grin, Tigris slipped carefully into the stall, moving a bit slowly and giving the colt a cautious eye. Lad, however, simply snorted at him and then turned his head back around to try and nibble at Minske's clothes. When Tigris got up to his head, it caused a completely different reaction from the colt. As if he hadn't seen him at all, Lad jumped a few inches, blowing and moving sideways toward Minske. The fair-haired man had been expecting the antics, though, and had stepped out of harm's way. "He's so dramatic," Tigris said in disdain, keeping his hand on the colt's bridle nonetheless. Minske simply grinned knowingly, finishing his fiddling with the saddle and motioning them out of the stall. Minske got a quick leg up from Tigris, who continued to keep a hand on the colt as they made their way out of the barn toward the track.
Lad had the long, sloping hip of a true long-distance turfer, along with the big hooves and long legs that came along with it. He hardly seemed the dignified racehorse as they made their way down, though, trotting daintily at times and throwing his head high at the slightest movement. Tigris grit his teeth, tugging the colt's head down with irritation. "You would choose the most obnoxious horse in the barn, wouldn't you? If he pulls my shoulder out, I swear to God..."
"Oh, just let him go. He's fine, he's not going anywhere." And true to his words, Lad was even more well-behaved without the restraining hand, acting for all the world as if Tigris wasn't even there even though he was still walking beside his head. Shaking his head in disgust once more, Tigris left them off at the rail while Cole came up for instructions. "He's probably not going to take this very seriously, so just keep him engaged. I don't care if he puts up the numbers right now." Minske nodded to his father, understanding the sentiment - they knew the colt was fast. It was his mind that needed trained, and he'd already come a long way. He just needed a bit of tweaking to be the monster they knew he was capable of being.
Minske turned the bay across the dirt to the turf, and he went without much fuss. Lad had his ears pressed forward, nostril's flared with curiosity, but he wasn't much bothered by this now-familiar routine when there was no one to show off to. Patting his neck one last time, Minske took up the reins firmly and turned the horse down the track. Lad eagerly took what was given, trotting off with quick strides. As they went, though, the horse began to relax and lengthen, and it was then that Minske rewarded him with even more rein. They cantered around the first turn, and coming out of it the rider led Lad into a gallop. As predicted, he didn't leap into it like some of the horses would. It took some urging from Minske to get him started, and some flashes of the whip to keep him going. Without any sort of competition, he wasn't necessarily interested in running out there all on his own. However, Minske kept him to a reasonable pace as they rounded the far turn, and then truly kneaded out a burst of real speed in the final furlong. Part of it was a conditioned response to that point on the course and part of it was listening to his rider - either way, Lad looked every bit the ready juvenile when he went past the wire.
Giving a rare grin, Tigris slipped carefully into the stall, moving a bit slowly and giving the colt a cautious eye. Lad, however, simply snorted at him and then turned his head back around to try and nibble at Minske's clothes. When Tigris got up to his head, it caused a completely different reaction from the colt. As if he hadn't seen him at all, Lad jumped a few inches, blowing and moving sideways toward Minske. The fair-haired man had been expecting the antics, though, and had stepped out of harm's way. "He's so dramatic," Tigris said in disdain, keeping his hand on the colt's bridle nonetheless. Minske simply grinned knowingly, finishing his fiddling with the saddle and motioning them out of the stall. Minske got a quick leg up from Tigris, who continued to keep a hand on the colt as they made their way out of the barn toward the track.
Lad had the long, sloping hip of a true long-distance turfer, along with the big hooves and long legs that came along with it. He hardly seemed the dignified racehorse as they made their way down, though, trotting daintily at times and throwing his head high at the slightest movement. Tigris grit his teeth, tugging the colt's head down with irritation. "You would choose the most obnoxious horse in the barn, wouldn't you? If he pulls my shoulder out, I swear to God..."
"Oh, just let him go. He's fine, he's not going anywhere." And true to his words, Lad was even more well-behaved without the restraining hand, acting for all the world as if Tigris wasn't even there even though he was still walking beside his head. Shaking his head in disgust once more, Tigris left them off at the rail while Cole came up for instructions. "He's probably not going to take this very seriously, so just keep him engaged. I don't care if he puts up the numbers right now." Minske nodded to his father, understanding the sentiment - they knew the colt was fast. It was his mind that needed trained, and he'd already come a long way. He just needed a bit of tweaking to be the monster they knew he was capable of being.
Minske turned the bay across the dirt to the turf, and he went without much fuss. Lad had his ears pressed forward, nostril's flared with curiosity, but he wasn't much bothered by this now-familiar routine when there was no one to show off to. Patting his neck one last time, Minske took up the reins firmly and turned the horse down the track. Lad eagerly took what was given, trotting off with quick strides. As they went, though, the horse began to relax and lengthen, and it was then that Minske rewarded him with even more rein. They cantered around the first turn, and coming out of it the rider led Lad into a gallop. As predicted, he didn't leap into it like some of the horses would. It took some urging from Minske to get him started, and some flashes of the whip to keep him going. Without any sort of competition, he wasn't necessarily interested in running out there all on his own. However, Minske kept him to a reasonable pace as they rounded the far turn, and then truly kneaded out a burst of real speed in the final furlong. Part of it was a conditioned response to that point on the course and part of it was listening to his rider - either way, Lad looked every bit the ready juvenile when he went past the wire.
Uno, Dos, Tres
Miss Magic & Tigris Greenfire
The Oddity & Clarimonde Tusaint
Roses Rampant & Vivien Charron
The Oddity & Clarimonde Tusaint
Roses Rampant & Vivien Charron
"Ahhh, what a beauty," Minske hummed appreciatively as Vivien guided a fiery chestnut filly out onto the dirt. Every once in awhile a horse would come around that heralded an invincible presence, and the daughter of Man O' War was definitely one of them. She was a massive filly, but it wasn't just her size that drew eyes. Her coat was like fire in the sun, but that too was simply secondary to the pure aura about her. Part was personality, part was stance, but regardless she would never be one to sneak into the background and be overlooked. Vivien, atop the noble steed, was eye-catching as well even with a helmet on his head. The blonde ponytail at the base of his skull was unusual, as was the prettiness of his fair face when seen up close. But it was when Pan moved that she shone her brightest, and none of the rest even mattered. She inspired excitement in those that saw her, a humming vibration of the great victories to come.
She was not the only Valkyrie filly to traipse onto the track that morning, though it was a casual grouping they took as they trotted down the outer edge of the track. While they might not be quite as visually striking, they were nonetheless unique in their own respects. The Oddity, a gorgeous roan daughter of Oddside, was guided by the sure hands of Clarimonde Tusaint. Due to her nervous nature, she needed nothing but pure confidence to keep her on task and bold enough to run her at her best. The third of the group, Miss Magic, was one of the farm's own bit of excitement. Half to their very good juvenile Aphrodite's Chant, Miss Magic had many of the qualities of the older filly. She was much quieter, though, and it made her a very able learner when she wasn't intimidated. Her color was more striking than her sister's had been, darker and boldly marked with bits of grey-white against a cinnamon backdrop.
While Pan could sometimes be considered the hot-headed type, in the company of the two milder fillies she went along easily as they warmed up. All three of them had exhibited signs of enjoying an far-off-the-pace attack, so they were not overly eager in their current set-up. Without horses to chase, moving three abreast, none of them was truly fired in the way they would be in the true heat of competition. However, they were eager and willing when asked into a gallop, moving to the rail as they increased their speed. Missy was perhaps the most uncomfortable, tugging at the bit as if in question as to if she was supposed to run or not - she was used to taking off once she had open track in front of her while in company. Tigris reassured her, though, letting her drop the smallest bit behind the other two fillies. They pulled around the turn, and it was Pan that loosely led their pace as she gradually picked up speed under Vivien's encouragement. When they passed the wire, they weren't in full chase - while they'd sped up, they weren't totally committed as a whole. Miss Magic was the only one of them that rallied, charging her way up in the last few strides to nip the lead from Pan. It was only with that burst of speed that the others got interested, though only moments later they were slowed for a very easy gallop out. While they may not have shown their true potential with their level of speed, their maturity of mind was all it would take for them to make a strong showing in their first races.
She was not the only Valkyrie filly to traipse onto the track that morning, though it was a casual grouping they took as they trotted down the outer edge of the track. While they might not be quite as visually striking, they were nonetheless unique in their own respects. The Oddity, a gorgeous roan daughter of Oddside, was guided by the sure hands of Clarimonde Tusaint. Due to her nervous nature, she needed nothing but pure confidence to keep her on task and bold enough to run her at her best. The third of the group, Miss Magic, was one of the farm's own bit of excitement. Half to their very good juvenile Aphrodite's Chant, Miss Magic had many of the qualities of the older filly. She was much quieter, though, and it made her a very able learner when she wasn't intimidated. Her color was more striking than her sister's had been, darker and boldly marked with bits of grey-white against a cinnamon backdrop.
While Pan could sometimes be considered the hot-headed type, in the company of the two milder fillies she went along easily as they warmed up. All three of them had exhibited signs of enjoying an far-off-the-pace attack, so they were not overly eager in their current set-up. Without horses to chase, moving three abreast, none of them was truly fired in the way they would be in the true heat of competition. However, they were eager and willing when asked into a gallop, moving to the rail as they increased their speed. Missy was perhaps the most uncomfortable, tugging at the bit as if in question as to if she was supposed to run or not - she was used to taking off once she had open track in front of her while in company. Tigris reassured her, though, letting her drop the smallest bit behind the other two fillies. They pulled around the turn, and it was Pan that loosely led their pace as she gradually picked up speed under Vivien's encouragement. When they passed the wire, they weren't in full chase - while they'd sped up, they weren't totally committed as a whole. Miss Magic was the only one of them that rallied, charging her way up in the last few strides to nip the lead from Pan. It was only with that burst of speed that the others got interested, though only moments later they were slowed for a very easy gallop out. While they may not have shown their true potential with their level of speed, their maturity of mind was all it would take for them to make a strong showing in their first races.
Lady Love
Spirit of Liberty & Vivien Charron
If races were won on looks alone, Spirit of Liberty would have nary a challenge in her career. A filly of medium size, the Spirit of Joy daughter had the head of a perfected sculpture and musculature far beyond her age - a perfect specimen, very clearly showing why the farm had been so interested in her when the sale had been presented. As far as things went, she had been a solid purchase so far. While she had yet to make her first start, she was showing all the signs of moving up to it well. During the times she had been asked for two-minute licks, she had performed with an easy willingness that endeared her well to her jockey. Liv was one of three foals of Spirit of Joy to make their juvenile starts this year, and they were his first. Though he only reached grade five in his very short racing career, this potential had indeed been passed to his children.
The happy filly trotted over the turf as if she was playing in a paddock, not keyed up or anxious as some of those around her were. Vivien patted her neck as they went, a smile on his face to reflect her easy mood. He was often given the quieter, shier mounts due to his soft way of handling them, but Liv was a bit different than many of them. She wasn't quiet out of timidness, but simply a pleasant nature and a sweetness toward all she met. She was incredibly willing to do whatever Vivien asked of her as long as she was praised a bit and not handled roughly. While none of the jockeys were in the habit of rough handling, Vivien's quiet and kind touch brought an incredible strength of will to the bay filly.
In her last work before her first start, Vivien had orders to give her a good move without pushing her beyond her ready eagerness. Since she was not entirely driven by competitive spirit, they needed to be sure she remained happy to respond to her rider. As he turned her to the rail, it was evident that she was still very much that. He clucked her into a gallop, and she moved smoothly into the gait, ears tilted back to him. As instructed, he let her go at her own pace for the four furlongs, only giving her a bit of encouragement close to the wire. She leapt eagerly, bounding forward with big strides. Patting her neck, Vivien stood in his stirrups, easing the filly back. She was ready, there was no doubt, and he was just as eager as she to go out and make their mark.
The happy filly trotted over the turf as if she was playing in a paddock, not keyed up or anxious as some of those around her were. Vivien patted her neck as they went, a smile on his face to reflect her easy mood. He was often given the quieter, shier mounts due to his soft way of handling them, but Liv was a bit different than many of them. She wasn't quiet out of timidness, but simply a pleasant nature and a sweetness toward all she met. She was incredibly willing to do whatever Vivien asked of her as long as she was praised a bit and not handled roughly. While none of the jockeys were in the habit of rough handling, Vivien's quiet and kind touch brought an incredible strength of will to the bay filly.
In her last work before her first start, Vivien had orders to give her a good move without pushing her beyond her ready eagerness. Since she was not entirely driven by competitive spirit, they needed to be sure she remained happy to respond to her rider. As he turned her to the rail, it was evident that she was still very much that. He clucked her into a gallop, and she moved smoothly into the gait, ears tilted back to him. As instructed, he let her go at her own pace for the four furlongs, only giving her a bit of encouragement close to the wire. She leapt eagerly, bounding forward with big strides. Patting her neck, Vivien stood in his stirrups, easing the filly back. She was ready, there was no doubt, and he was just as eager as she to go out and make their mark.