charge of the light brigade

Ashes to Ashes& Wish Upon A Star

Brooks and Maggie grinned at one another as Ripley handled the reporters of the morning. The trainer was becoming flustered and beyond irritated. Her workout schedule was being interrupted by the nosy bodies who seemed to travel in droves. She waved her hands at them, eyes brightening with anger and wished she could run them over with a Clydesdale horse. Alas, there were no such horses around and instead she was stuck with the reporters who dotted notepads with their scratchy pens every time she opened her mouth. The auburn haired flicked her hair over her shoulder, pretended to ponder the answer to a question and then simply turned and walked away. The reporters called after her, however, could come no further without taking down the rails she'd set up.

Brooks sat on the tack trunk, eyeing his girlfriend as she came back toward them. Her eyes were bright and for all of her irritation, he knew Ripley was enjoying the limelight. He patted her hand as she reached for him, smiling into her eyes. This was the stuff Ripley lived for. She lived for her horses to be doing their best on the track, proving others wrong and getting her darn photo taken. And she did it all the hard way. She lifted her eyebrows at Brooks' mellow face and rolled her eyes at Maggie. Maggie merely put on a face and whistled through her lips. Ripley shook her head, tuning out the cat calls of the reporters.

You'd think they'd be in bed at this hour... Anyway. You two are first up with Ashes and Wish. We'll see what we can pull out of them. Both are relatively on their toes. Wish wants to run and Ashes... always wants to run. Ripley signaled for them to get a move on and went to sit on her stool in front of Cross My Heart's stall. The black filly was eyeing the reporters with hate-filled eyes and frankly Ripley wished she could sic the filly on them.

Brooks quickly stood up and pulled Ashes to Ashes out of his stall. The muscled up bay colt pushed Brooks out of the way and bolted out of the stall, tugging on the lead and ripping a buck. Ripley grinned when the reporters scattered. For all their talk, they couldn't handle the horses they so studied. Brooks called to the heated colt, noting the energy that blistered in his gaze. The newly crowned grade two colt was very on edge. He still was running in his minds eye and had been pretty much galloping his ass off at Witch Creek Stable. No horse had been able to go with him in the gallops at home. Ashes burned that track every time he worked out there.

Brooks patted the snorting colt's nose, led him over to the hitch and began to groom. He was in fantastic shape, tall, leggy and absolutely race fit. His mentality had improved dramatically over the last month and a half and he now understood what it truly meant to race. Ashes had been good when he was running for fun and by Year Thirteen he would be running on a whole other level. More professional, more prepared and more dominating. Just the way Brooks liked. He ran a soft brush over the colt's dappled rump and pondered his run in the Breeders Cup Dirt Mile. The only nominated horse was TDI Live This Lie from Stride of Perfection Stables. That gray horse was a grade one, only with four more wins than Ashes and he'd been running at The Wire at a good clip, just like his Crooked Fire colt. Brooks was eager for the match-up and quite sure Ashes could take him if he stayed in this focused mind set.

Wish Upon A Star caused a few oos to come from the reporters as she was brushed and cleaned up. The Everyday Hero filly was in few words: stunning. She was perfectly built, perfectly cute and perfectly willing to please. Maggie and Wish's partnership was as steady as could be. While it still had kinks and Wish was relatively the unknown horse of the bunch, she had massive potential. She had the breeding and the class. She still had to notch her fourth victory to enter into grade four territory, but it would come soon. Maggie could feel it and wanted a victory for her blossoming bay filly in the Breeders Cup Juvenile Fillies. It would be a rough race for both of them, but Wish had learned her lessons wells over her two year old season. It was simply time to put them all together for this one race. The final race of the two year old season.

Wish nudged Maggie's hand kindly, bright eyes swiveling around to take in the reporter's with her overwhelming cuteness. It couldn't be denied. Shots were taken of her until she was positive that they had a good one before returning to attention. Maggie slid the bit into her mouth, grinning when the filly mouthed it gently. The blond woman had a great affection for this filly. She was an easy filly to groom, to train, to race. She was sweet and eager to please. Maggie patted the filly's warm neck and backed her light frame up. She nickered at Ashes to Ashes who was already prancing and circling beneath Brooks. Maggie swiftly swung aboard and smiled when Wish began to dance beneath her. She only became excited when a rider hit her back, all business.

Ripley stood up from her seat on the tack trunk and motioned for them to head to the track. Ashes marched rather than walked, letting out a few bucks for good measure, putting some distance between himself and Wish Upon A Star. Ripley buried in her coat, feeling annoyance at the attention of the reporters again. This was why she liked Witch Creek better than training at public tracks. They could keep out the riffraff if they so pleased.

Ashes was full of life beneath Brooks, full of excitement and energy. He was ready to roll and Brooks was wondering how Ripley was going to keep this workout even between Ashes and Wish. Maggie was pondering the same thing atop Wish. The bay filly was wary of her older stablemate, leaping sideways and playing with the light bit in her mouth. She danced about, flashing her black mane about her face. She was eager as well, but more eager to get away from the camera clicks and off this narrow path with her half-crazed stablemate.

As soon as the pair reached the track, Ripley took up shop along the outside pole. She would not be able to keep the plots a secret from the clockers today. Ashes and Wish danced half-way across the track, bobbing their heads, eyes alight with fire. A mile and a quarter for both of them. Ashes will break into his run first, let him get six lengths in front of Wish. Wish will move into her workout pace the furlong after. Ashes will workout seven furlongs and Wish will workout six. Sounds like they'll even out pretty nicely. Don't let the breeze go to his head Brooks.

The reporters chuckled, Ripley rolled her eyes and wished that one of these two horses belonged to her.

Brooks shook his head, let Ashes out into a booming trot and thanked the lord that he was not head of Witch Creek. Maggie was thinking the same when Wish bounded into her classic floating trot. She bowed her neck, staying a horse width away from Ashes and a half-length behind. She didn't trust Ashes and neither did Maggie. The colt was full of steam and dangerous until he got his gallop and workout in.

His rider kept his hands light while the big bay worked out the kinks that stable life brought. He was used to living the life of a pasture horse and couldn't stand the stalls at Green Horse Fields. It made him more edgy and more intense. It also made it more likely that Ashes would be ready to run his competition off their feet in the Breeders Cup Dirt Mile. Brooks patted the colt's neck as they moved into the backstretch. He was a strong hearted colt and he didn't like to make mistakes. His mentality was improving with every race and workout. Brooks was content.

Wish strutted her stuff, stretching out and enjoying the freedom. She too was used to being in the pastures, but her disagreement was less expressed. She moved quietly beneath Maggie, nostrils flaring gently, taking in the scents of the world around her. She was happy and focused. She was also sitting on a timer. She wasn't the most explosive bomb when she got going, but when she did, Wish could fly. She had proven more than a few people in the races where she won or finished up close. She proved her connections of her inner fire with every workout that had come closer to the Breeders Cup. Maggie knew Wish was sitting on a solid race. How solid... Well Maggie wouldn't know until the end of this workout.

Both riders asked the horses to step into their ground swallowing canters up the backstretch and both of them received what they were looking for. Ashes leaped forward like a lion catching his prey, really looking the monster that he was developing into. Brooks sat quiet above his withers, hands not budging an inch. He didn't want Ashes to move yet. Not with a whole lap of the Green Horse Fields track to go. He glanced back, spotted Maggie and Wish a length back, once again wondering if Ripley's plan was going to come true or not. Wish was so quiet and nice, not the usual fired up Witch Creek racer.

Maggie could feel Brooks criticizing her filly with every backward glance. He forgot how good the filly could be despite her sweet and sensitive nature. Maggie could also feel the fire that was kindling within her classy filly. Wish dipped her nose down, playing with the bit still more. Her ears were flickering above her delicate head and her eyes glittered with the confidence that had been with her since the very beginning. Maggie leaned her upper body closer and became more in tune with Wish as she chased Ashes up the backstretch. Ashes was powering along, lost in the world that seemed to revolve around a mixture of speed and stamina. His hoof-prints left holes for Wish to follow in, to track.

Brooks forgot about Wish as Ashes bounded over the sandy surface. His colt was as focused as could be as, as ready to go as ever. The Breeders Cup could very well be his coming out party or it could be a signal that he was not quite up to tackling the best of his generation just yet. They would find the key for the excitable bay and they were definitely closer than they had been during the Canadian Triple Crown. Ashes pounded over the track, ears pinned back into his black mane as he reached for more ground. He was a different animal than he had been in the midsummer derbies. Very different. He knew what his task was to be, to win.

Maggie guided her lean filly directly to the rail behind Ashes, letting her take the dirt. The filly face it off, pinning her ears and letting it coat her chest. She was tougher than she looked, more handy than she let on. A quick snap of the wrist and Wish was back to her spot two paths out, bounding along as eager as ever. She was still learning and because of it Maggie was content. There was no need to rush this bay filly. She had the world at her feet. No one knew how good she was and Maggie was certain they would find out in the coming months.

Ashes bounded into the homestretch, large chest expanding and contracting as he took in the breeze. He carried his head high now, excited with the possibility of blitzing Wish. He could hear her, though Brooks had only just realized that Ashes was still paying attention. His ears were not just pinned back into his mane out of intensity, but out of a need to track his stablemate. He had stuttered in the turn when she'd moved to the rail, certain she was about to make a bid for the lead. His ears had moved forward briefly when she moved back to her original position. Brooks nodded. At least he wasn't lost in lala land.

The quartet bounded through the homestretch, their strides comfortable and eager. They weren't stunning quite yet, but their motions were good enough to catch a few eyes. Neither horse looked tired. Entering the turn, Ashes cornered a little wide, body carried by centrifugal force. Maggie grinned when Wish stayed in her path around the turn, ear focused on Ashes to Ashes' movement. Maggie allowed time for a swift pat before encouraging Wish to step her gallop up. Ashes had a two length lead and according to Ripley's order, he would get a six length advantage in order to provide Wish something to chase. She didn't want him to kick away like that right from his gallop.

Wish lengthened her stride eagerly, now a half length behind Ashes, though to his inside. Ashes pinned his ears at her, glaring angrily, but a toss of the reins had the colt refocusing. He buried most of his attention into beating the ground as he could not beat Wish. His hoof-beats became louder, his eye angrier. It was like dealing with a bratty child. He even swerved toward Wish, hip nearly cutting her off. Brooks apologized with his eyes to Maggie, but the blonde was being cautious and keeping her attention on Wish and a clear path. Wish was calm through the whole ordeal, maintaining her position with a sharp eye. She flicked her tail once over her rump, but didn't back down from the thrashing Ashes.

The first furlong for Ashes drew close and both riders were well aware of it. Maggie would have to encourage Wish to keep up at first because the filly wasn't as directly competitive as her older stablemate. She made her move in the homestretch and it was pretty much patented. Brooks leaned close to Ashes neck, talking and stroking his mane. Ashes needed to be handled confidently or all deals were off. Brooks sang an old country tune to the gallant bay and then released the reins. Ashes bolted as if he'd gone from a straight stand still. His strides sweeping over the track. Dust kicked up and blotted Wish's chest, but the filly didn't back off.

Ashes flew beneath Brooks with no encouragement. He began to stretch his neck and drop down into his running stance. The colt was fierce and strong. He knew what it would take to beat Wish Upon A Star. Brooks let out a harsh breath when Ashes threatened to take it to the next level, reminding himself that the willful colt had six more furlongs to travel and a filly who might just come up with some sort of attack.

Oh she would attack, thought Maggie. Wish's body was bunched and as tense as it got. She wanted to give chase and take over, her fire lit up her gaze. She was tired of taking Ashes to Ashes' dirt. She wanted to beat him. And for once Maggie was not surprised. The filly had shown flickers of potential before. She was not just a pretty face. Her gallop stride quickened as Ashes whipped through his first furlong, now seven in length. Maggie gritted her teeth. Brooks was letting the fleet colt run off.

Ashes broke through into the second furlong a few seconds before Maggie and Wish. It was a grand lead for the colt with a ton of speed and stamina to spare. Brooks didn't pump him for anything. He wanted the colt to do his own thing, but he couldn't let him blitz his way through unbelievable fractions. Wish would be coming. Brooks glanced back and gawked. Apparently she was coming now.

Maggie pushed her filly forward with body and mind, willing her to pick up speed and let loose. Ashes could not get away. Unlike before, Wish was responding quite well. She went from gallop to racing stride over the course of three leaps. Her ears flicked back into her black mane as she cranked it up a notch over the dirt track. Maggie locked her fingers into the filly's mane, eyes brightening with every sweeping stride that Wish took. The bay filly was closing in on Ashes quite rapidly. Brooks had glanced back and was alerted. Wish had made up four lengths and now three lengths behind Maggie turned the heat down a little.

Ashes cruised into the far turn, muscled hind end propelling him into a lane out. His ears were back, listening and Brooks remained quiet. Wish had moved quicker than he had expected. Ashes stepped quicker in order to knock her off, knowing the weakness of some horses was to make one bold run. His mane whipped Brooks' face as Ashes cruised over the track. He was a sight to see, a charger in full flight. The Crooked Fire colt was on full display for everyone to see and he was making his statement today.

Maggie noted Ashes movement farther out on the track, noted the tension that brimmed in Wish as he did so. Wish did not want the colt to pick up any lead longer than what he had. It was clearly written on her face and Maggie was ecstatic to see some competitive fires burning within the Everyday Hero filly. Her bay frame picked up the pace as Ashes spun his way out of the turn and into the homestretch. His lead was two and a half lengths now. He had not succeeded in knocking Wish off. She was in possession of a solid cruising speed as well and he did not surprise her in the least.

When they straightened out, Maggie dropped the reins, releasing control and whatever else Wish could produce. The bay lass bounded forward, head and neck stretched out as she reached. Her speed increased until Maggie had to duck behind her neck for protection from the bitter wind. Wish flew up the track, chasing down her workmate and drawing a neck behind on the inside.

Ashes tensed up dramatically, momentarily stunned when the younger filly came calling at his throatlatch. He buried his ears in his mane, kicked into gear and threatened to knock her back again. It didn't work. Wish sped up, rushing his head, causing him to waver. Brooks tossed the reins at Ashes as they came toward the wire. The filly was hanging on like she usually never did. She was coming to challenge. Brooks narrowed his gaze, yelled and sent Ashes surging beneath the wire.

Maggie shook her head when the larger bay three year old spread out to get up by a half-length. While he pulled up, Wish kept going, galloping out impressively well into the far turn. Maggie was quiet with her hands, feet and seat. The bay filly would do this of her own accord. And she did. She whipped into the far turn before pulling herself up from the assault and her ears flicked back to see if Ashes was in bragging distance. Maggie glanced over her shoulder to see that he was about eight lengths back, cantering out with a couple head tosses.

He was frustrated, but calmer. A perfect combination for the Breeders Cup Dirt Mile. Brooks was positive this would be one of Ashes to Ashes better races in Year Twelve. And it had to be a good one because the rest so far had been beyond expectations. Brooks patted the colt's tough neck, admiring him when he gazed straight through the returning filly. He could be a sore loser, but at least he was a good looking one.

Wish pranced right on by Ashes in her neat trot, tossing her mane and tail. She'd earned bragging rights in the gallop out. Maggie leaned over the filly, excited to see such spirit before she landed on the country's biggest stage. Maggie stroked the filly's mane as they neared the gap. Ripley grinned enthusiastically when they neared. Wish looked happy, her eyes alight with her new found confidence. She's putting it altogether at the right time. Awesome workout Maggie. I told you they'd even out.

Ashes cantered up to the gap, frustration still lighting up his gaze. He ripped a good buck, once again scattering his loving press. He jogged off the track with an irritable bounce in his step. Ripley glanced back at the press, winked. He's a sore loser for now. But he's sitting on a time bomb. Don't worry.

Ripley didn't bother to hide her delight, clapping her hands and jogging after her charges. What a great way to start off the day. She laughed as they got back to their yard, taking in her stable. This was going to be a good two weeks.

Ooc: Talented colt and filly. LOVE.
Words: 3,558

Screaming Mimi& Dazzling Dame

Ripley paced over the frost covered ground in front of the shed row, her green eyes distant and soft. She had a lot of ground to cover in the next week before the Breeders Cup. It wasn't a lot of ground because most of her horses were in prime physical condition to meet the demands of the big races. Still the ground would be marked with holes for her horses to fall down, injured and unable to compete. Breeders Cup time was the most tense period for any trainer, major or minor. The press scrutinized every detail that went into each horse's training, each step, each day of resting. They looked for injuries, hoped for some newsworthy drama and looked to vindicate the people they sucked up to on a daily basis.

For this reason, Ripley had two guards walking outside of the saw horses she'd set up around her barns. Some nasty press had approached her just a few hours ago and she had wanted them gone. Mastermind had circled his stall angrily, squealing like a stallion, until the press had left. It was better for everyone if the horses were not surrounded by negative energy just before the day of their lives. The auburn haired woman paused, running a hand through her hair, and looked to her friends.

Maggie and Justin leaned casually against the horse trailer, talking of the competition and the races they would be running in this week. Hokum and Indian Darling would run at The Wire in week four. Both Justin and Ripley would have to leave after the second set of workouts in order to catch those mounts in time at The Wire. However, Ripley was not so focused on her riders as she was the pair of equines dancing eagerly at the end of their reins. These two ladies would have gone crazy had the press been around in full force. Screaming Mimi and Dazzling Dame were not the type to appreciate the media and their cameras.

The black giantess and her stocky dark bay sidekick, stood side by side, tails swishing over their rumps. Dame would miss the Black Widow immensely when she retired to Brood. But then it would be Dame's turn to shine and she would shine if things went according to plan. Both horses had been second in their last starts, but both of them would be searching for redemption. One, Mims, would seek it in the final race of a stellar career, and the other, Dame, would be out to prove that her big brother wasn't the only one that could run in the big leagues.

Dame's eyelids lowered over her dark gaze as Justin stroked her forehead and then proceeded to braid her forelock. The Jesse James filly was particularly sweet on the young boy. She was beginning to show her affection for him a little more now that he was racing and working her out. Maggie and Mims, on the other hand, stood a mutually respectful distance away. Screaming Mimi eyed Maggie suspiciously and Maggie eyed the black daughter of Crescential with a blank gaze. Their affection lasted as long as Maggie Reynolds was in the saddle. It was tough love and it did not affect their partnership in the races at all. Their partnership was as strong as iron and Mims was the reason Maggie was no longer struggling through her alcoholic depression.

Ripley had these two to thank for keeping Justin and Maggie around. She wanted them to go forward in the Breeders Cup and do their human counterparts proud. And she fully expected that the filly and mare would. Their affection, even if short lived, had an underlying quality of loyalty that was undeniable. Ripley walked over to the quartet, her face parted in a grin.

Today would be the first and last day that Screaming Mimi and Dazzling Dame would workout together. This would be a much anticipated workout on the parts of both staff and clockers. The two horses were extraordinarily volatile and both of them were rightfully hyped. Mims was coming off a close second place finish in the Dubai World Championship, where she had lost to FS Mockingbird and beaten future Breeders Cup Turf competitor, Worldbreaker. The Black Madame, as she was now called in the media, was more than ready to strike and take the kill in the BC Turf. And so was her vengeful rider.

Dazzling Dame would have a tougher race on all counts. She would face the likes of Sillenia, Wild Kiss and the Mare on Fire, Alluring Assault. It would be the hardest race of her career so far, but her talent was immense and she had climbed through the ranks rapidly to reach this point. Justin and Dame had the classiest and most awe inspiring bond of the entire stable and it would be on display in the Filly and Mare Turf. Witch Creek had said during Frozen Motion's Turf Triple Crown campaign, that they did not just race for experience, but raced to win. Dame was the least accomplished horse in the field, but she had enough raw talent to sweep the field if all things went right. The Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Turf was the most anticipated race of the year. And Justin was beyond sure that his filly would run past expectations when running against her elders.

Ripley signaled for Maggie and Justin to mount up, her sharp green eyes noting the immediate puffing of the chest. Screaming Mimi and Dazzling Dame nickered excitedly, flaring their nostrils and shifting their hooves. It was about time, they seemed to declare. Maggie patted her black Goliath's neck before swinging up to her back. Screaming Mimi pranced like a charger, one of the most vividly beautiful horses at Witch Creek currently. Her muscles rippled as Maggie guided her away from the trailer and she settled into her long legged walk. The Crescential filly was a beast and she knew it. Her ears were pricked over her head and her mane spread around her face. She was a black cobra, a keen competitor and she was looking for a little blood.

Dame trotted out beneath Justin after her older stablemate. Her cute ears bobbed over her small head and she had a bit of a pep to her step that was admirable. The dark bay filly had been on her game since coming to Green Horse Fields and her gallops had been nearing workout speeds. She'd been clocked and nearly categorized as working out twice this week. She pranced on her toes when she caught up to Screaming Mimi, nostrils flaring exuberantly. Justin settled into the long-striding trot, taking in everything. This would be his first Breeders Cup race, Dame's second. Both of them would be out to prove something.

Mims tossed her head violently when Maggie moved her hands up the reins to block her charging through the gap. The black mare had a tendency to rush the typical procedure here. She went full force against the system until she finally got her way. The black whinnied so loudly that Maggie nearly had to lift her hands to cover her ears. Horses on the track took note of Mimi's dominating appearance. She radiated an authoritative energy wherever she went. Every horse knew who the boss was without even questioning it.

Dame skidded sideways, rolling her eyes mockingly. Justin followed the rough movement with his seat, running a hand down her dark mane. The Widow and her sidekick were quite the pair. Dame bowed her neck and nickered as they passed through the gap. She knew what this show was all about.

From behind, Ripley smiled. Mares will be mares no matter the time or place. She nodded to a group of clockers and proceeded to the inner track. The dirt track was closed for this hour, allowing safe passage for trainers and horses to the inner dirt track. She waved her jocks and their mounts over briefly. Maggie reined in the ever forceful Mimi and Dame bounded along like a little kid in the candy shop. Definitely on a sugar high. Alright, so they both have a tough race ahead of them, but I haven't seen a horse training as impressively as these guys. We've been here longer and for the most part they've settled down. Mims will be facing two other closers so it'll be up to you Maggie how you want to handle it. If she's on the "lead" because someone has to lead, let her go at her own pace. Worldbreaker worked like a monster the other day and I'm not sure if he didn't just like the sand after all. Just keep her relaxed and ready to wheel and deal in the final furlong. You have the horse. All this nonsense about running against lower level competition is ridiculous. She's beaten Infinite Warcry twice, something few other horses can say. She can handle this field and bring some respect to The Wire... Now go on and canter her up to the gap.

Maggie sent a grin at Ripley and then released her black dragon. The black mare powered smoothly into her canter, betraying the agility that she actually did possess. Ripley nodded in approval before setting her sights on Justin and Dame. Dame wheeled on her hind legs, threatening to bolt after her older stablemate, but Justin kept her in. She spun a couple quick circles, trying his horsemanship as she often did. Ripley leaned against the metal rail, content to watch the performance. Her young jock backed the dark filly up half-way across the track, finally getting her to focus. She pranced forward, ears pinned back into her black tresses, clearly not impressed.

Now, as for you Grasshopper, I need to discuss Dame's race. She is in what many consider to be the biggest race in this year's Breeders Cup. She's more than capable of handling these older mares as she does have age and freshness on her side. I fully expect her to be ready for this race. She may have lost to Wild Kiss in her last race, but those races were winning performances. And we have something most of the competitors don't. We have very, very tactical speed. We know Dame won't have distance issues. She can cover the ground better than any horse in our roster at the moment. They'll expect her to go to the lead and we will. It's only a ten furlong race and Dame is rateable. She dealt with the Breeders Cup pressure last year and she won't freak out in the paddock. Let her break by herself and don't move a muscle. She can set her own pace, high cruising or otherwise. The competition will have to go with us either way. Dame makes the pace Justin. Justin grinned at her, feeling the ride out in his head. He could see it like a rolling motion picture. Either way the closers will be taken out of their comfort zone. They simply can't let her get away with a ten length lead. She won't stop. As far as racing style goes, Dame has it in the bag. And if they come to her in the stretch, only then encourage her. She's game enough, fast enough to fend them off. I'm fairly confident she'll give a performance of a lifetime... If we don't get in her way.

Justin nodded, stroking his filly's powerfully built neck. She danced beneath him, muscles thrumming as if she could feel every word that Ripley was saying. He wouldn't put it past her. I won't Ripley. I learned long ago, never to get in a filly's way, human or horse. Ripley chuckled, patted his leg and began to walk alongside the filly. Now as for the workout today. I don't want an eye opener. Stunned? Me too? I want to keep them guessing, especially those darn handicappers... And our competition as well. She paused, took a breath. Two mile gallop with the four furlongs at the end a breeze. Got that. No speed. Let them do it on their own. That should be impressive enough. Now hurry up, Maggie's getting impatient.

Justin cocked an eyebrow at the order, spun his freight train on her heels and let her out in a gallop to the gap. Dame flew, kicking up clumps of dirt that promptly smacked Ripley's pants. The woman shook her head, rolled her eyes and leaned against the rail to watch.

Mims danced in place, the perfect knight's charger. Maggie kept her feet out of the stirrups, long and her seat firm. Mims obeyed the seat better than voice. She whipped her black tail around her haunches, watching with condescending eyes as her younger stablemate approached in a gallop. Maggie had to appreciate the audacity of the Crescential mare beneath her. Few horses had such ballsy characteristics. Justin brought Dame to a jog, allowing Mims to pick hers up and for Maggie to pick up her short stirrups. The dark mare and filly traveled counter clockwise around the course, ears pricked and nostrils flaring. Eager for whatever their jocks gave them.

Two mile gallop with the last four furlongs a breeze. Ripley doesn't want speed from them. She wants them to rate and make sure that all the reporters understand that her mounts won't be breaking records if they're on the lead. Maggie grinned at him, patted Mims' mane. She should know that these two ladies do what they want. Justin laughed. Well apparently, come Breeders Cup day, they
will want to just cruise.

Maggie shook her head and signaled for the gallop. Both of the horses plunged into their long strides, spreading out over the springy turf course. Mims ears bobbed loosely on either side of her head, the epitome of a relaxed tomcat. Maggie rode loosely, hands relaxed on the reins, eyes forward and soft. She didn't want any adrenaline to scorch through the leathers and spark a race in Mims' head. Justin held himself taller in the stirrups, his hands a little stronger on Dazzling Dame's mouth. The dark bay filly was a bit more headstrong even though she still carried herself in a smooth gait. Her attitude was one of a competitive athlete. She wanted to go out and win with blistering speed. It was only her beautiful partnership with Justin that kept her striding out effortlessly.

Dame did not run by Screaming Mimi. Rather she strolled a half-length back, though her ears were pricked. She was alert and tense in the haunches, watching Screaming Mimi for any sign of speed. Even Maggie could feel the energy crackling within Dazzling Dame. The dark bay mare radiating enough that she had to look over and make sure that Justin wasn't melting. He winked at her with brotherly affection and Maggie rolled her baby blues. Such a brat!

The pair of fillies covered the ground with powerful strides, getting the most out of the warm up as possible. There was no need to hurry and even if there were other horses on the track, neither filly or mare was intent on drag racing. They marched along like the seasoned pros they were, giving Ripley exactly what she asked for. Visually impressive, but not clocker impressive. Ripley nodded in approval from the sidelines as the Black Madame and the sidekick galloped mightily into the homestretch for the first time.

Their breathing surrounded their angled faces like a white flame, conjuring images of dragons and magic. Their hoof beats pounded like Native American drums, alerting everyone to their presence. Each horse's muscles rolled fluidly beneath dappled out hide. They drew attention and held it. No one could look away from the graceful show on the turf track. Maggie instructed herself to breath when the speed intensified briefly as they moved into the far turn. Dame had drawn level with Mims in the homestretch and the Black Widow had briefly awoken. Her ears had swept into her mane at the sign of challenge, but a word from Maggie and a flick of inside rein had her settling back into her steamrolling gallop.

And Dame remained level.

The dark bay filly was a powerhouse beneath him. Every inch of his skin was spiking with adrenaline as they moved from homestretch to far turn and into the backstretch. She was an energized horse in a way that few horses could claim. She was a barely controlled force and only her loyalty to him kept it in check. Justin ran his hand down her neck as they changed leads on accident. She switched back promptly, tail flicking over her head. She was playing now, growing bored with the consistent gallop. Her boredom had caused her to challenge Screaming Mimi early. Justin had expected the stocky bay to back down from the Black Widow, but she hadn't. She'd surprised him by showing a little fire.

Maggie leaned close to Mim's lengthened neck, her gaze held between the flopping ears. Screaming Mimi was relaxed, but threatening to deal some punishment to her younger stable mate. It was an odd combination. And it had only been further emphasized with Dazzling Dame had not backed off. Instead the turf mares assaulted their territory with thunderous hooves and short snorts. Their eyes grew fiercer even though the pace remained impressively steady. They were drawing more attention along the backstretch. Their dark frames lengthened with each tremendous stride. A show of brawn and class.

The final four furlongs of the two mile gallop drew closer, quicker in the eyes of Justin and Maggie, though neither filly or mare sped up. They were too busy challenging one another with head games to notice the stiffening of limbs or the rush of adrenaline pulsing through the reins. Both Maggie and Justin were content. It was mentally more impressive to see a bomb-proof horse, ignorant of her surroundings. The riders blinked the relaxation out of their gaze, tightened their hands and then released.

As quick as the movement occurred, the Black Widow and the Freight Train alerted. Dame bolted ahead, her tail flying out behind like a taunting flag. Maggie kept her hands quiet as Screaming Mimi was assaulted with this flash of speed. Mims backed off briefly, letting her quicker stablemate, play up the advantage. Maggie guided the black dragon out and let the reins slide through her fingers. Screaming Mimi's large strides covered the ground impressively as she grappled back the lost lengths. Within three strides she was upon Dame's outside. Just in time for the turn.

It was then that the rider's measured out their reins, drawing in the explosive energy, muffling it, but allowing its barely tamed ferocity touch the witnesses. Dame and Mims both swung out a path wide on the turn, their ears flickering uncertainly over their skulls. They weren't used to being taken up after a show of great speed. However, they reluctantly obliged their riders, settling into a quicker stride, but going no further than was allowed.

Their bodies covered a vast amount of ground in a mere 23.55 seconds. Ripley giggled like a little school girl as the mare and filly launched up the homestretch with the strides of stallions. The clockers were stumped as Screaming Mimi and Dazzling Dame charged down the homestretch in a quick time without going all out. Visually impressive.

Maggie and Justin grinned at one another as their powerhouse mounts passed beneath the wire. Their horses galloped ominously impressively out into the far turn, a skull-and-cross-bone flag waving out behind them in the form of their tails. Their muscles pulsed enthusiastically beneath thin glistening hide. Perfection in equine form.

They were ready for the final challenge.

Ooc: -hugs last BC workout-
Words: 2,838

Bella Luna& Frozen Motion

With most of the workouts out of the way both at home and at Green Horse Fields, Brooks was finally able to give some attention to his favorite iron man. Frozen Motion had been a strong horse for Witch Creek the entire season with two victories in the Turf Triple Crown and two high level wins at a mile. The dapple gray son of Spitz had never tailed off over the lengthy season and would hope to go out of Year Twelve in a blaze of glory. He would first have to take on his arch nemesis Infinite Warcry. The black son of Jesse James had been a thorn in his side ever since the Turf Triple Crown in early spring. The colts had parted ways briefly, slowly moving up through the ranks at both The Wire and Green Horse Fields. Infinite Warcry was a little ahead of Freeze, but Freeze was coming into his own. He was more versatile in both distance and style and he was beginning to show it in his results.

Brooks stroked the nose of his favored colt, watching his noble eyes. They looked beyond Brooks to where the reporters crowded and his ears were pricked, twin towers of alertness. The press was calling the Turf Marathon a showdown. Three of the contenders of the Turf Triple Crown would run: Infinite Warcry, Apollo Bear and Frozen Motion. There was no doubt the press would eat it up. Brooks wasn't too pleased and had been sure the attention would be freaking Frozen Motion right out. The colt was used to peaceful haven at Witch Creek, but apparently all of the traveling and the craziness of competition had settled his nerves. He patiently looked at the press, passing judgements on their nosiness and simply assumed that they had nothing better to do with their lives then snap at them with their machines.

Brooks admired the colt's classic look and once again was stunned by the colt's condition. He had been tearing up the turf track for a while now and his powerful gallops had lit up the clockers stand numerous times since his arrival. Freeze was ready to face his biggest competitor again. He hadn't forgotten the black dragon in the least. The blonde man opened the stall door and took a light hold of the reins tangled beneath Freeze's throat. The Spitz colt stepped proudly from his stall, swinging his white and gray tail over his rump, ignoring the rapid fire sound of clicking like an old pro. He turned his head, posed for the camera even though he didn't know it. His muscles rippled under his shimmering multi-hued hide and he looked the picture of a turf monster.

Reese watched the fan fare hit Frozen Motion as he stepped from his stall, satisfied that she was safe from attention herself. Bella Luna's white face peeked over the stall door, ears pricked, eyes eager and kind. She blocked Reese away from the press and gave her a moment of peace. Reese was not a fan of the press. They didn't make her nervous, but they printed stories that sometimes weren't true. She was totally different from Ripley, but both of them wanted their horses to do the talking. And Bella would do the talking for her this Breeders Cup. The silver-white filly leaned into Reese for warmth and turned her kind gaze back toward her. The elegant filly had a fire that burned within despite all the kindness she showed. Recently, that fire was making a strong statement in her performances on the track. Bella had turned around the second Reese and her had become partners. She'd aged mentally and was more physically able to withstand the pressures of racing. And she finally knew how to run.

The Sea Struck filly touched her dressed up head down to whuffle her lips over Reese's hands and arms. She nickered softly, ears pricked, relishing the close companionship. She would face a tough task in the Breeders Cup Juvenile Fillies, but she was ready. It would be an oxymoron to call Bella Luna a dark horse, but that was exactly what she was. Reese hugged the filly's neck, snagged her helmet from the ground and swiftly placed it on her head, tightening the strap. The pair stepped from the stall quietly and nimbly. Reese did not want attention, but when she rode a filly who had recently beaten her elders, she was going to get it. Bella stopped and posed for the camera, knowing full well what they meant. She was a complete and total ham.

Ripley Marsh leaned against a stall door with Mastermind resting his muzzle on her shoulder. The chestnut colt's ears flopped to the side and his eyes were shut. He'd long ago forgotten the press and found them just as boring as Frozen Motion and Bella Luna. Ripley ran a finger down the colt's cheek, watching her gray and silver horses parade in front of her and the press. Freeze marched with his head high and ears up, all business and ready to go. Bella walked forward, stopped for a few quiet beautiful moments, hamming it up for the photographers. Reese would reach up, jiggle the chain and gently prod the filly forward. The filly whuffled and went a few feet before stopping once more. Ripley hid her smile when Reese turned with a overwhelmed look on her face. It amused Ripley to no end to see her charismatic jockey flushed at the first sign of press.

Taking pity, she called, Alright, mount up and let's get going. Reese swung up into the saddle, letting out a relieved sigh when the filly stepped out dramatically to the track. Freeze mouthed the bit as Brooks eased into the saddle, but, ever the pro, remained still. Ripley nodded a goodbye to the reporters as Freeze was nudged into a polite trot after Bella Luna. The glorious dappled colt was all muscle, eager to please and becoming a reporting favorite. He had a noble attitude, quiet, serene and confident. He was the horse everyone turned to when they'd had a bad day. And their affection for the grand horse had not gone unnoticed.

Unknown to the press, they were in the midst of two runners for the Turf Triple Crown. One had taken two legs and the other's future in those races had to be written. Bella Luna would be entered into the Turf Triple Crown next year if everything went as planned. The sparkling white filly had the perfect demeanor for the marathon races, just as her elder Frozen Motion had. Ripley let thoughts of Turf Triple Crown glory slink to the back of her mind when the horses touched down on the turf track.

Brooks could feel the thrum of power beat beneath him as Frozen Motion marched over the dirt track. He bowed his neck, flared his nostrils and pushed mightily off of his rear end in a rare show of excitement. The colt had everything going for him. He'd just won last time out and his blood was still up from the victory. His gallops had never been better and it was almost as if he knew he would be taking on Infinite Warcry again. The dappled gray stud had impressed since his arrival. He wanted to fly across the turf track, beat down his competitors and really rumble.

The best part was that there would be no Executioner's Apprentice in this race. The stallion with the bloody shoulder had been the bane of Frozen Motion's existence in his top turf starts in the latter half of the year. He would listen and settle down just as always beneath Brooks without that added pressure. The only time Frozen Motion had ever lost his cool was when he'd been facing the gray monster from Prison Hill Stables. No, this time it would be a race against Infinite Warcry. He'd beaten that black colt before and he would attempt to make amends for dropping their last race together in the Breeder's Stakes at The Wire.

Where Freeze was roughing himself up for a star studded workout, Bella Luna confidently strutted along over the dirt track. Her glistening tail swung over her hips and her dark chocolate eyes took in everything that was moving. She didn't spook, didn't lash out. She was a filly who did not exude power until she ran. Reese stroked the pearly filly's neck as they crossed onto the turf track. Bella bent her neck, flicking her ears and gracefully accepted the appreciation.

She still continued her easy moving strides despite Frozen Motion picking up an excitable diagonal crow hop. Brooks grinned beneath his scarf, careful to keep his eyes muted. He enjoyed Frozen Motion when he got like this. It was so hard to forget that beneath the battle-hardened soldier was a spirited thoroughbred. The colt eagerly snatched at the bit, not quite serious about stealing it from Brookson's control. He was a great partner and he didn't mind sharing with his rider. They respected one another and it was more than evident in their races and workouts together.

The pair of horses stepped into a jog around the turf track, their eyes bright and eager. Neither rider had to be afraid of being motionless. These two were fine with flailing movements and excitable posting. They were old hats at the racing business. Freeze and Bella kept side by side, ears flicking and nostrils twitching as if they were holding up running commentary. Both of them had been galloping on their own since arriving at Witch Creek. They had both been outworking their stablemates at home and it just wouldn't do to have them doing the same at GHF. Plus, Ripley wanted to throw the handicappers and clockers into a tiff. Brooks chuckled inwardly. Anything to make the outside professionals suffer.

Reese posted softly in the saddle, hands light on the filly's mouth with only her pinkie holding the white dame together. Bella Luna was the easiest of the two year olds and it was definitely noted. She switched her tail over her rump, tossed her head once and then stretched her neck out wide. She was an athlete in the middle of a warmup. Her ears began to focus more on Reese as they made their way around the racetrack. She began to ignore Frozen Motion who covered the ground in sweeping strides to the inside.

Freeze blew through his nostrils as they moved into the far turn at this eager, but contained trot. He wanted to get going. He only tolerated so much pre-workout trot work before he got impatient. Brooks settled down, eyes darkening with consideration. Ripley had set up an odd workout for Frozen Motion and Bella Luna today. There would be no pre-blitz gallop. Rather the whole workout would be one steadily increasing race. Witch Creek had tried this format out once before, but it hadn't gone over well due to testing it on the wrong horses. Freeze and Bella would be perfect for this.

Reese could feel Brooks tense up beside her. Both of their minds had gone to the plotted out work. He glanced over at Reese. So twelve furlongs it is for these two. Want to really start picking up speed four furlongs out? They run similarly so it won't be too hard on them competitively. Reese pondered briefly, but could find no faults in the plan. Sure. We'll start halfway up the homestretch. A perfect mile. We'll finish the twelve furlongs going into the backstretch. Brooks nodded.

The pair nudged the horses into eager canters, feeling the power of speed rush to their horses' brains. Bella tossed her head up, Freeze let out a whopping buck. Their manes whipped in the chilly winter wind and their eyes were bright with eagerness. They were a tough pair of horses, both mentally and physically. They were ready for whatever their riders wanted to offer.

The clockers noted of the movement in the homestretch, set their watches and patiently waited for whatever Ripley had up her sleeve to appear. Brooks and Reese nudged both colt and filly into a quicker gallop. Bella's stride lengthened to her usual middle-distanced stride. Freeze was more collected in his though the swiftness was still obtained. Brooks and Reese leaned forward in the stirrups, eyes focused ahead. This was as racelike as it got and the horses were going to focus just as much.

Freeze stretched out along the inside, muscling his way to the front. Bella Luna politely backed off at Frozen Motion's tough approach, settling just off of his haunches. She wanted no part of dueling and never had in any of her prior races. She was a stalker and that was as good as it got. Frozen Motion plunged along eagerly beneath Brooks, lengthening into his easy going gallop stride. He was a strong horse, but a patient one. He knew when it was time to turn on the after burners. Whenever Brooks signaled for the colt to get moving it would be time. Their partnership was rock solid. Freeze mouthed the bit quietly, not interested in stealing it, but testing.

Brooks ran an affectionate hand down the dappled gray's mane, talking to him confidently as they strode into the backstretch. Freeze had the nature that allowed for good one-sided conversation. He listened and settled, almost relaxed even though he was constantly picking up speed. His ears bobbed over the leather and his whipping gray mane, his eyes were sharp and he was curious as to how far behind Bella was. However, he was not interested in waiting around to see. He twitched his tail over his rump eagerly, dark eyes bright. He had never been in as much good form as he was today.

Reese kept her hands loose on the reins as Bella galloped confidently behind her older stablemate. She was a kind filly and though she was starkly competitive in the heat of battle, could rate as beautifully as an old pro. She reached and contracted with those delicate white legs of hers, eyes bright and soft as they swung over the haunches of Frozen Motion. She was happy to be in her position and didn't mind letting the colt having the lead in the least. He was a powerhouse from start to finish and she was a classic lady who wanted someone else to do the dirty work before she bothered to get involved. Reese leaned down, poised on the balls of her feet, and kissed the neck of her favored mount.

Bella tossed her head, knees lifting excitedly and she squealed. Reese chuckled, lifted her brows. It was such a Cross My Heart thing to do. Reese wouldn't mind if Lulu picked up one of her more precocious stable mate's traits. The South American woman refocused again, eyeing Brooks as they completed the half-mile. The man wasn't moving yet on his mount. Frozen Motion was setting a solid pace, now three in front of her more patient mount. And yet Freeze was doing it all on his own. The dappled gray colt was not under any sort of pressure and that was when he was his most dangerous. He would have Apollo Bear keeping him company on the front end of the Turf Marathon, but he would settle back as a preceder or early-type stalker.

The pace was gradually quickening as the pair of grays rounded the far turn again. Freeze was not being urged to move faster and Brooks was not worried about asking him. The colt naturally picked up a faster pace as he headed this way. He would calm down again in the homestretch when Brooks didn't go to work on him. Reese, however, shook the rein briefly at Bella. The gray filly needed to move up in order to stay within striking distance of Frozen Motion. Her lean grey-hound legs swept over the turf track, making up the lost ground as if the extra speed were nothing. Reese was even more impressed when she settled into the quicker gallop and relaxed. Not many two year olds knew how to do that. And that, Reese thought, would be their secret weapon.

Freeze began to mouth the bit a little more frequently as they barreled up the homestretch. His chest began to swell in his excitement and the muscles over his haunches began to strengthen. He wanted to gun it and Brooks remained as dead silent as possible. He needed to follow Ripley's orders. The clockers switched their glance between Freeze and Bella, eyes alighting when the filly began to move beneath Reese.

Brooks and Freeze both heard Bella as she galloped up. Reese was going to keep her nice and close. Brooks closed his eyes briefly. He needed to refocus. Freeze pinned his ears back when the filly's nose appeared at his side. Her ears flopped back and forth easily, under no pressure in the least. Brooks shook his head. Of course not. Reese never pressured her horses.

The speed intensified as they passed through the final furlong before the four furlong blitz. Frozen Motion dug in on his own, kicking up turf clumps into the wind. Bella fell back briefly, surprised by the assault. Reese maintained her stillness and bolstered Bella's opinion. She didn't need to lose confidence.

Their tails flew out behind them like large white sails as they streaked into the first furlong, Freeze ahead by a length now. Bella fell into a brief funk, but a quick shake of the reins had her returning to normal. The gray filly surged forward with a quick turn of foot and bolted to Frozen Motion's barrel. Once again the dappled gray pinned his ears and put on a sheer display of speed, but Bella stuck to him like Velcro this time. She was no longer fooled.

Frozen Motion charged on, ears lost in his mane now. He was irritated with his younger stablemate and he put all of his energy into burying her. Brooks' eyes widened when he flicked his tail over his rump and tapped into third gear. It was a quick jolt of electricity to Brooks. The colt had an unfathomable amount of gears. And he had talent for plenty of horses. He was angry and willing to set fire to Bella Luna all on his own.

Undeterred and a calm lake compared to Freeze's lurching nature, Bella stayed determinedly at his side. Her strides lengthened, giving her a beautifully classic look, as she met the challenge for more speed. A pinkie was all that controlled the Sea Struck filly. The brown eyed filly stretched her neck out, taking full advantage of her beautiful frame. Freeze stretched his, ears locked backward in battle.

They whipped through the far turn, brushing hides briefly enough to scare their human partners. However, the horses were well in control of themselves and they easily rounded the turn. It was clear to anyone that the pair was locked in a battle of wills. Bella gained on Freeze, eyes blazing with her inner fire as she inched up his neck. Freeze scooted forward once more in an attempt to throw her off, but she stuck like glue.

No hand action was necessary to urge the horses to greater speed. They were full of themselves as it was. Their hooves dug into the grass as they straightened into the backstretch. Speed clashing with stamina and wills. Their hoofbeats were muffled as they crossed the imaginary finish line and they looked as if they floated rather than ran. A pair of ghosts locked in age old war between male and female. The pair cruised emphatically up the stretch, their riders unaware of the whispering from the clockers. They patted their mounts, smiled at one another and felt admiration the likes of which only could go to a courageous thoroughbred.

Ripley leaned on the rail, eyes following her turf runners. She didn't need to see the clockers' watches to know that it had been a fast workout. She knew what classic thoroughbred runners did. They fooled you mid-stride. Fooled you into thinking that they weren't even moving fast. Fooled you into believing all of the myths of beauty and speed and grace combined. Ripley didn't need a watch to tell her what she already knew. Frozen Motion and Bella Luna had been as visually impressive as anything out on the track these days. And by all accounts, their competitors would be in for some rough sailing come Breeders Cup Day.

Ooc: Think Poetry in Motion
Words: 3,434.