I Never Meant To Brag {Open}

[hasbeensoprano]

Normally Magdalene DeFoe didn't ride on of her own horses, but this time around she wanted to get on Paramore's back herself. The bay two year old filly tossed her head, dark eyes darting to and fro as her ears flicked back and forth on the track. Having bought the filly as a two year old, Mag was disappointed that she had missed out on the youngster's prospect season as a yearling, but she had her now, and had her exactly where she wanted Para. Mag was boosted into the tiny racing saddle and she held no stick in her hands, merely entwined Para's black mane and in the reins. She nudged the filly to pick up a trot and eventually and easy canter, though Paramore was in front of the bit, pushing against it. Mag stood in the stirrups, trying to keep the filly held up.

"Easy does it, Maggie, that's it, just keep her collected, she wants to go but don't let her out yet." Her boyfriend, Nathan Wallace, called to her. She was sure Nathan's stomach was flipping at the sight of her riding the young filly, but she knew that he knew this was what she wanted to do. Even at her young age, Nathan's fifteen year old daughter Shilo wanted to start bugging on the track, and Nathan wasn't about to let that happen just yet. Mag could feel the power in each of Paramore's strides, her muscles bunching like a coiled spring, ready to dig forward. Mag glanced to the side as Nathan gave the notion.

"Come on, baby!" Mag whispered to the filly. Paramore's ears flattened and she dug into the dirt of the training track. The speed Mag felt was exhilarating, feeling every stride carry them faster and faster. Para was flying, the both of them were. Mag was ecstatic, knowing that the filly seemed to want to carry herself as fast as humanly possible. Speed was what she was bred for. It was in her heart and soul. Oddly enough, it was in Mag's as well.

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[S u N f r O s t ~]

AFTERSHOCK and HENNA TURATH

I seem to be around on the track a lot these days thought the woman aboard the chestnut three year old colt. Then again, the horses need it, after that disaster. The memory of what had happened still resounded in her soul; a sad, mournful look briefly appeared on her face before disappearing once more. Yes, it had been a tragedy to see the Green Horse Fields racecourse as ruined as it was after that hurricane. Now that everything had been repaired, it was time for the horses to return to the track. With Shock easily in hand, she guided him into a trot, and then into a canter. Thus they went, and as they were rounding the last turn Henna rose into a crouch and let Shock go.

The chestnut colt went from stationary thoroughbred to speeding bullet in seconds. The rate of acceleration would throw any rider who didn't know how to ride Shock back. But Henna knew how to ride her colt; she had won the rights two years ago. Besides, Shock was a front runner, so of course his acceleration would be amazing.

The two seemingly flew forward, adrenaline from the speed pumping through their veins. Henna thought she could see a bay flash into a gallop just ahead of them, and thought Oh what the heck, let's go race them! She loosened the reins, letting Shock pick up the slack, and in moments, at their new speed, they were alongside the bay. Henna recognized the thoroughbred as a filly, but did not know her name Nonetheless, she adjusted Shock's speed to the filly's, letting her set the pace, and shot a quick smile at the person riding her. That was Henna's way of saying hello without getting her tongue ripped out by the wind. Next, she asked Shock for some more speed, and when Shock gave it they raced to a length in front of the filly. It was clearly a challenge to race. Would the filly and her rider respond?

[hasbeensoprano]

Still hunkering over Paramore's neck, Mag glanced to her side to see a chestnut colt surging forth alongside them. Catching the brief smile of the colt's rider, Mag returned the smile with a brief nod, sliding her hands up Paramore's neck. Para's ears disappeared against the side of her neck, her legs thundering along the track like erratic pistons, stretching out into a full-fledged gallop as the challenge was accepted. Unlike most horses, Mag never had to pump her hands up Paramore's neck. The filly felt the slack in the reins and powered forward, one ear flicking to the side toward the chestnut colt before he surged forward a length or so in front of them. It was on now. The fact that she had competition sent a competitive force surging through the filly that Mag could feel beneath her. She molded herself against Paramore's neck, just holding the filly back enough to where she was saving stamina, but she was right alongside the chestnut, making sure to stay within distance of the colt and on the rail where Paramore preferred, ready to let her out at full speed when the time game, adrenaline surging through her veins just as she was sure it was through Para's.

[S u N f r O s t ~]

Shock was a front runner; his deadly speed was all one needed to know that. Thus, he was used to setting a furious speed, and maintaining that with enough stamina left for the end (provided he didn't lose his head). But Henna didn't know how long this race was going to be, though she did know that Shock could handle it. Despite his racing style, he ran eight to thirteen furlongs with ease. This competition would put him in the zone for upcoming races. Excited at the thought of her beloved colt improving, Henna asked for more speed from her colt. He responded, obviously a bit pressured by the filly on his left but wanting his usual position in a race.

I wonder how long we're racing for thought Henna once again. She hated being in the dark, without knowledge of a plan, but it wasn't like she could just ask the other women. The wind would carry away their words. She decided to treat it like a race, and when they rounded the last turn she would set Shock into his stretch drive mode. Grinning, Henna held the colt a bit more in hand, enough that they were maybe a half length in front of the filly but no more. The first turn was coming up; no doubt the filly would make up ground around it.