A Breeders Cup Experience [Completed]

[*Ripley*]

Witch Creek Breeders Cup Workouts For Y13


In Order of Appearance:
Paranormal Hunter& The Devil's Hourglass& Prima Donna.
Feline Frenzy& Cross My Heart& Canjun Moon
Red Herring& Ashes to Ashes.
Calamity Queen& Dazzling Dame& Whipped Cream
Frozen Motion& Bella Luna& Hokum
GS Royal Crown& Mastermind
Midnight Thriller& Fiery Touch& Supernatural.

[*Ripley*]

Three Pronged Attack
.featuring.
.paranormal hunter. the devil's hourglass. prima donna.

Times certainly had changed from Year Twelve to Year Thirteen. Witch Creek had gone from one of the lower-class sneaky barns to a super entity via wins all over the map in Year Thirteen. Ripley could not say she was going into the Breeders Cup without confidence. From top to bottom, every single one of her horses had a chance in their Breeders Cup races. Her blood sung with anticipation, eager for the racing battles that would take place. The swift pounding of hooves, the shouts of jockeys, the howl of joy as the winner passed beneath the wire first. All of it filled Ripley Marsh with good cheer. The Breeders Cup was a time of fun for everyone involved in Witch Creek. It was a time to let the horses do the talking on the country's greatest racing stage.

A week and a half remained between now and the Breeders Cup. It was time to get in the final works. Ripley rubbed her hands together enthusiastically. Time to get their feet a little dirty and give the reporters something to buzz about. After all, Witch Creek was the first barn to be present at Green Horse Fields this season. Ripley wouldn't mind a little spotlight and neither would the horses. Her green eyes flashed to the trio of bay fillies being saddled in front of the stalls.

The Devil's Hourglass. Paranormal Hunter. Prima Donna. All of them shone with good health, their feet shining with oil, their rumps dappling out, but most of all their muscles flexed beneath their hides. Hourglass lifted her nose to the air, releasing a powerful neigh. Prima squealed, bucking like a yearling in spring. And Para... Well Para just stood there with confidence galore. The large filly was coming off of two powerful victories and though she hadn't raced in a couple of weeks, she remembered. Ripley knew Maggiletti Reynolds, her best friend, was eager to get this work over with and head into the Breeders Cup Juvenile Turf Sprint. Justin and Ripley were feeling the same toward their mounts. It was time to flex some muscle and plan an attack.

Reporters cameras clicked loudly as Ripley stepped up to pat The Devil's Hourglass on the neck. The burly filly glared imperiously in her audience's directions. She was over it already. She knew all about these reporters thanks to her experiences in the higher level juvenile races. Their appearance at the higher level had cost her the races at several points. She'd washed out, unnerved and had fought hard, but her rapid loss of energy had nothing to do with not being in shape. It had had everything to do with her losing her race in the paddock. The Devil's Touch's daughter shook her head, Ripley sighed in relief when she saw the flash of light blue cotton balls in the filly's ears. Luckily, Hourglass' issues had an easy fix. The filly pawed the ground, eyes glowing with her inner rage. She was a camera's dream. She was also Ripley's, in more ways than one.

All right guys. Let's hop up. One mile gallop. Four furlong workout. Blow 'em out good. Maggie and Justin cast eager looks at one another as Ripley swiftly leaped into Hourglass' saddle. The brutesque filly reared in the air, hooves pawing. Ripley forced her down, a devious grin on her face at the sight of the fleeing reporters. Hourglass received a soft pat on the neck as Ripley whirled the bay on her hooves to face her opponents today. She would face neither of them in the Breeders Cup or down the road, if Ripley could help it. All three: Para, Prima and Hourglass were loaded with talent and each of them were tough in their respective areas.

Paranormal Hunter took the lead under Maggie's urging. The long legged, male-figured filly snorted in annoyance, but did not rebuke her rider. Para and Maggie had long since come to an agreement. The results had been on display in their last two races together. You're my girl, aren't you monster? Eyes rolled white, and the Flash Limits filly crab-walked to the side. Her first demonstration of high energy. Rule number one for Para: Never release more energy than you have to. Maggie was extremely high on this dark bay filly. She was proving to be a threat out on the track, a dangerous, barely controlled one. Maggie was eager to get this workout over, however. Paranormal Hunter would take care of herself until race day. This workout meant the difference between injury and making the Breeders Cup Juvenile Turf Sprint versus rival Demonic Desires.

Justin could not help the confidence that was zooming through his veins. Gorgeous George had two live wires heading into the Breeders Cup Juvenile Fillies Turf. Justin believed he was on the hotter of the pair. Prima Donna swaggered onto the dirt track, eyes filled with arrogance and brilliance. Her athletic body was trimmed to perfection. She was an absolutely super-model and easily the most attractive of the trio. Reporters flocked to catch every toss of the head, zooming in on her savagely arab face and delicately crafted ears. Justin's eyes filled with pride as his filly paraded by them without a second glance. She was a queen in the making and a bit of a dark horse going into the Fillies Turf.

The Devil's Hourglass broke off into a casual canter up the track, hooves pushing in and pulling out of the surface with an aura of power. Ripley's heart thrummed with adoration and pride. Hourglass was every inch the champion filly. She bowed her neck, snorting so that steam surrounded her primitive face. She was a mirror image of her mother at this age. The similarities had astounded everyone involved with racing when Hourglass had been pulled off of the trailer. She looks just like her mother in person. No... The Devil was more powerful.... You must have cobwebs in your eyes if you can't see the power pouring off of her... Ripley had loved the talk. She wanted to prove Hourglass just as talented as her fierce mom. Breeders Cup was the time to prove it.

The trio stepped onto the turf track, instantly galloping off. Hourglass and Prima Donna raced to their positions, Hourglass always a nose in front. Justin smiled at Prima's pinned ears and angrily cocked head. Hourglass was the boss, but Prima wouldn't be the bridesmaid forever. Justin tapped the lithe filly on the shoulder, feeling her puff up with self-rightousness. She snorted angrily, teeth bared, but moved a horse-width away. Hourglass thundered along the rail, hooves beating ominously with each stride. Justin tucked Prima back off of the grade three filly's haunches. Prima's ears pricked momentarily, but then flattened out. Justin stroked her neck. That's my girl.

Just like at home, monster, Maggie crooned to her mount. Paranormal Hunter tracked her rivals from her expected spot. Last place. Three and a half lengths back. Her strides were long and ambling. She was a huge threatening presence that neither filly would forget. Para had long since taken to boring down on Hourglass and Prima, winning sometimes or just coming up short. Maggie believe the Flash Limits filly just liked to ruffle their feathers. Para cruised over the course, tail streaming out behind her, ears pricked. Each muscle was defined beneath her shining coat. Maggie wondered if, mentally, Para was the farthest along of the three fillies.

Hourglass and Prima dashed into the far turn, ears pinned and eyes filled with loathing. Ripley and Justin was just burrs on the fillies' backs as they made their presence felt over the turf. Ripley kept the reins slack, not encouraging her filly anymore than necessary. Sheer competition would be enough today. Prima moved up slightly in the homestretch, stretched her neck in an attempt to pull Hourglass off-stride with her teeth. Maggie's chuckle was heard by neither rider as they pulled their horses apart. Prima Donna coerced her way to the lead, passing under the wire a half-length in front. Para moved no closer to her rivals, maintaining the healthy distance of now four and a half lengths. She would tackle them when Maggie told her to do so, no earlier.

The backstretch roared closer as the trio picked up the speed until just at breezing. Hourglass was content with second now, having been pulled off of the rail and to Prima's outside on the turn. Ripley could practically hear the eagerness thrumming its way through the burly filly's veins. She wanted to bury Prima Donna and every ounce of arrogance she had in her body. Ripley's green eyes flashed. Ripley wanted to beat Prima only for the thrill of winning.

Prima Donna moved over the turf like a cheetah, each stride was quick and purposeful. Her efficiency was a studied calculation. Handicappers had to admire a stride like Prima Donna's. Hers was a demonstration of racing perfection. Justin leaned close to her neck, eyes glinting. Almost there girl. Almost there. He glanced under his right arm. Hourglass was a length back, Para a seemingly non-threatening four back. He returned his hardened gaze to the front. She wouldn't be non-threatening for long. Justin released Prima the moment she passed the start of the five furlongs. The filly leaped forward at the drop of his end, ferocity lighting up her elegant features. She surged forward in a compelling exhibition of muscle and bone at work. Justin hooted. There you go!

Hourglass waited an exhilarating moment before Ripley asked her to tackle the speedy Royal Assault filly. The strong filly launched off of her haunches, tail streaming out behind her as she barreled down upon her lighter stable-mate. Ears locked back into mane, Hourglass roared up to Prima Donna's barrel at the middle of the far turn. Prima kicked on forcing some distance in between herself and Hourglass. She would not be taken for a fool today. Her eyes were bright with primitive rage. It was time to prove that she was not the least talented of this trio.

Paranormal Hunter and Maggiletti watched the demonstration of power against speed, now three and a half lengths back. Para had reacted instinctively at the sight of her stablemates bounding away. She'd made up a half length and would have made up more if Maggie hadn't asked her to slow down. The strong filly's ears were dead-locked on Prima Donna and The Devil's Hourglass. She was an immovable force. She was going to gun them down and surprise them both, just like always.

Prima had beat off Hourglass by a length now, but Justin knew Ripley hadn't asked for Hourglass' best. The bay filly would shift into another gear, her high stretch kick and attempt to mow them down just like always. He did not egg Prima on. He did not want to exploit her speed and energy today. Where Para knew when to stop, Prima did not. She just flew until it was she was tired out. He held her in at the sound of thunderous hoofbeats. Paranormal Hunter and Hourglass were about to rain fire on Prima Donna.

Maggie let out a holler of joy as Paranormal Hunter surged along the rail. Her iron clanked against it once, then twice as Paranormal Hunter powered up the track. Her ears were pinned now, her nostrils flared. The button had been pressed and Para had been more than willing to oblige. She muscled her way between Prima Donna and the rail, pulling up to Prima's barrel. Hourglass had beaten them by a half-length to Prima's other side. As one, Para and Hourglass raced to run head and head with their bait, with Prima Donna.

Justin called upon anyone to give his agile filly some fighting spirit. She would not back down. She could not be intimidated. Excitement roared through Justin's blood as she battled her stablemates back and emerged a head in front at the wire. Justin patted her on the neck, palm leaving a sweat mark. Ripley punched his shoulder in congratulations as Hourglass galloped on by. The bay filly's eyes were blazing with the force of her rage. She would not lose the war if she had anything to say about the next race against the boys. Ripley let her burly filly gallop out over the course, stride tremendous and showing how hard she would be to handle in the Breeders Cup Turf.

Prima and Paranormal Hunter cantered side by side. Prima's nostrils flared in and out, a look of contentment touched her features. She had won. She had beaten Para and Hourglass for the first time all season. Para just walked casually, looking in the opposite direction as if she could not bear to see the happiness on Prima's features. Maggie could feel the threatening pulse beneath Para's hide. Maggie hummed happily. Any threat from Para was worth waiting for.

[*Ripley*]

Touch And Go Traffic
.featuring.
.feline frenzy. cross my heart. canjun moon.

Speed would be key in the next workout Ripley had planned for her next set. Her green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as they flashed over the next set. Two grade one winners and the Acceleration Stakes winner awaited to be mounted up and taken out to the track. Cross My Heart was the most famous of the group, coming off of a remarkable win in the End of the Year Turf Sprint. She'd won two legs of the Turf Triple Tiara before rival Innocent Passion had swept the third out from under her nose. Revenge would not be bittersweet if Cross took down that long-time rival in the next race. Ripley could hardly wait for the vengeful juices to flow in Cross at the sight of that particular opponent.

Cross stood with her ears pricked and eyes lit up with fire. Her gaze was full of the press. Their chatter had irritated her for the last two days except out on the silence of the track. Her eye settled on Ripley and it seemed to beg that they get out of this place before she couldn't take it any longer. Ripley patted the filly's elegant neck, murmured a soft word and stepped away to find Lane and Laura. Her jocks were not hard to find. Laura was giving Feline Frenzy an overly hyper pep talk and Lane was standing white-faced at Canjun Moon's shoulder. The jock had notched victories on both Midnight Thriller and Canjun Moon, but she was often faced by her stage fright demon. Ripley clapped a hand to her shoulder, rubbing it on Lane's back when she practically leaped a mile in the air.

Cool your jets, chick. You've won on this guy before. You can do it one last time. Then you can both retire to a life of leisure. Lane snorted, cocked a hip. We can only attempt to beat you and Mastermind in the Sprint... and everyone else. Canjun Moon will be the one to do all the running and I'm going to try to stay out of his way as much as possible. Laura snorted, rolling her eyes as she swung onto the supple leather of the light racing saddle. Her plain brown mare was taking the sprinting world by storm. Feline Frenzy was just beginning to grasp the true nature of the game. And luckily for Witch Creek, she seemed to love it. Listen to her, Ripley. Not a true blue, jock's bone in that curvy body. Ripley put her tongue in her cheek at the fire that burned Laura. Lane had not liked that particular comment one bit. We may not be the superstars come Breeders Cup day, but Laura DeComte, we will hand you your small butt on a silver platter.

Lane swung around to face her 17 hand gorgeous stallion. Cajun Moon nickered, ears flicking in such a way that the fire in Lane dimmed. He was her boy even in her disappointing failure. She patted his shoulder, latched the helmet strap and climbed into the saddle. They would face their final start together and they would give it their all. Ripley nodded, satisfied that her two jockeys were getting into gear. She didn't waste anytime. She launched into Cross' saddle. The jet black filly released a high pitched shrill and took off at a jog the moment Ripley's feet were the in the stirrups. The reporters dashed to the side as the speed demon passed, eyes flickering with excitement. Any workout that possessed the presence of Cross My Heart was going to be intense to say the least.

Feline Frenzy followed at a hammering pace, eager to show Cross My Heart that she wasn't the only horse that could run in this town. Her nostrils flared in and out, eyes glowing with excitement. Laura was proud of their accomplishments. She had taken the grade five mare from near retirement to the highest of the echelons of racing. The journey had been thrilling and they would have many more races to come well into Year Fourteen. The soon-to-be-five-year-old had the best in front of her. Next stop would be the Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Sprint against Tears of An Angel, once Cross My Heart's rival, and Loud and Clear, a Star Thoroughbred filly. Laura knew that Feline Frenzy was training better than at any point in the season so far. The bay mare was just itching to prove herself on the world's biggest stage when everyone was watching.

The lone stallion tracked the two females onto the dirt track. He paused briefly, ears pricked, scoping out the environment. Cross had attracted attention. Feline Frenzy some snaps of the camera. But nothing for Canjun Moon. He was a sculpture in excellent breeding, but his accomplishments had been easily forgotten in the "now" moments of racing. Lane patted the horse's thick neck. He snorted, shaking his head before picking up a canter after his flashier stablemates. One thing Canjun Moon had that the other two horses didn't was the ability for push-button speed. He just relaxed into the reins, floating over the course with large, effortless strides. Lane loved him and hoped, eventually, that Ripley would allow her to jump the gorgeous stallion. He wanted another job besides just stallion life, of that much Lane was sure. She leaned close to his neck as he picked up speed, ears bobbing up and down against the wind. She heard the click of the cameras and wondered if they would finally catch Canjun Moon in his most glorious moment.

Ripley grinned at the fierce beat of Cross My Heart's hooves over the turf. The black filly was deadly precise with each hoof step. She was filled with a fire that seemed to burn unmatched in the current roster. Ripley loved her for her uncanny speed and her uncanny honesty. You never had to guess what the black filly was going to do today. She would always just flat out run, each and every time. The bitter wind slapped Ripley across the face, leaving bright red paths in its wake. Nothing could calm down the adrenaline surging its hot way through Ripley's veins. It was not quite time to release their demons, but soon, very soon, they would. Ripley pressed the reins into Cross' withers, urging herself to calm down. They'd passed the third furlong of the six furlong gallop and then all that remained would be the three furlong blitz.

Feline Frenzy settled alongside Cross' haunches. The small bay mare knew two things important for racing and winning: 1) She was fast enough to run from start to finish without taking a breather, and 2) You never looked Cross My Heart in the eye at the start if you wanted to be alive at the end of the race. Laura admired the intelligence of her slim wand of a mare. Fee had turned into quite a surprise for Witch Creek Stable. She'd gone from the lows to the highs in a matter of months, all at the hands of an apprentice jockey. Laura smiled appreciatively. She could say she'd learned a lot in this single year of racing between Whipped Cream and Feline Frenzy.

Fee galloped handily as Cross set swift, but not brutal fractions. Laura could feel the timer running low on the jet black bomb. The filly was not one for holding herself together long. Though usually she could last for a mile, today she seemed to know the difference. Only six furlongs today. Fee was uncoiling her muscles, not so eager to flat out tango with the younger horse. She had brains and she knew how to win after a whole season of doing so. Cross was young, but reckless. Fee had age, but possessed wisdom. Laura settled in on her brown sedan. Fee would give notice before she tackled her younger counterpart.

Canjun Moon lingered three lengths behind his stablemates, his giant strides gobbling up the ground. Lane hardly had to do a thing. He was a powerful sort of horse, very easy to ride. His eyes glowed at the sight of the targets before him but he knew the difference between workout and race. He would get a little release in a matter of minutes, but nothing as satisfying as the rush of the homestretch. Lane stroked a hand down the stallion's neck as he moved up on the mare and filly by a half-length. He was growing more interested with the passing of the sixth furlong. Lane's eyes narrowed when Cross My Heart went from galloping to sprinting in a matter of seconds. She might as well have broken from an imaginary gate the way she took off.

The black demon shrugged off her stablemates as though they were nothing more than flies. Her strides were quick, precise and extremely efficient. She seemed to fly low over the course, demanding everyone's attention in the vicinity. Binoculars locked on her frame as she soared over the green turf, a picture of pure racehorse speed. Feline Frenzy did not even bother to keep up with the suicidal pace of the black filly. Laura allowed her to race along at her own choosing, noting that the close distance had swelled to a two length difference between Fee and Cross. Fee was not one to throw in the towel. Laura knew the bay mare had plans to remain within striking distance of the black three year old.

Cross quickly spread the crew out in the first furlong. Ripley had hold the black filly in a little as she whipped into the second furlong without even a sign from her competition. The auburn haired woman glanced under her armpit, noted Canjun Moon was four lengths behind Cross and two behind Feline Frenzy. The closer looked like he was beginning to pick it up under gentle guidance from Lane. Ripley turned her attention to the front. It was time to put the trio to a stern test.

Laura shook the reins at Feline Frenzy, making the decision for the bay mare as the swooped into the homestretch. Feline Frenzy kicked off of the turn like she had been sling-shotted forward. Her stride lengthened, her black tipped ears flattening into her thick mane. She poured it on over the ground, a mirror image of Cross My Heart. Laura could hear Canjun Moon joining them loudly on their right. She glanced over and saw the stallion was under a full head of steam. She went to urging Fee and the bay mare took off again, neck and neck with Canjun Moon in their pursuit of Cross My Heart.

Lane swore under her breath at Cross' demonstration of speed. At least Canjun was being kept occupied by Feline Frenzy so that there was some element of competition. Fee was brutal in her attack of Canjun Moon. She would not let him get by her. Laura had stilled her hands a long time ago as the bay mare battled fiercely with the bay stallion. Neither was relenting, even though the war was basically over.

Ripley hooted as Cross blistered her way through a hot furlong all on her own. The black filly had not been able to hold her speed in any longer. She had needed a stern test and would not receive such a thing from her elders. She surged alone by three lengths under the wire. Silence echoed along the rails, listened to the solitary hoofbeats of Cross My Heart as she galloped back into the turn. Ripley patted the filly's neck, encouraged by the impressive gallop out. The black one could have gone even farther and faster if Ripley had so chosen.

Lane and Laura would have heard a pin-drop in the blanketing silence. Laura glanced up, knowing what she would find: Cross putting on a spectacular exhibition. There was only ever silence when people were in awe. Lane tapped Canjun Moon on the shoulder, noting the loss of concentration in Laura. Lane had been defeated by Ripley, but she would not let the skinny butt chick beat them, especially after her words earlier. Canjun Moon bounded without much effort to the lead, stealing second place over Feline Frenzy by a head. Fee snorted, insulted as the big bay horse galloped away as if he hadn't even run. Laura glared after Lane who was hooting and hollering like she had just won the Kentucky Derby. Feline Frenzy released a gut-wrenching buck then, nearly tossing Laura over her shoulder. Rule 3) Never underestimate the closer, especially when that closer has shown moments of brilliance in the past.

[*Ripley*]

Up In Flames
.featuring.
.red herring. ashes to ashes.

Brookson Wells and Ripley Marsh made their way to the track. Brooks was aboard the tremendously built Red Herring while Ripley walked calmly at the chestnut colt's head. Red Herring was a freight train heading for his final destination in the Breeders Cup Classic where he would be competing against the best of the best. Hopefully, he would make a statement in the prolific race. Brooks believed that the copper penny colored horse would be one of the best older males on the track in Year Fourteen. Perhaps Red Herring had saved himself from exploiting too much energy in the Triple Crown trail. Now, they had an explosive prospect for the older races at both Green Horse Fields and The Wire. Brooks patted the colt's neck as he strutted into the clear. Some reporters nodded in the colt's direction as he appeared at the gap. Brooks rolled his shoulders, stopping the powerful horse. Red pawed the ground until Ripley scolded him. He snorted and turned his head to gaze imperiously down the dirt track where his stable-mate was trotting along the rail.

Ripley nodded in approval at the sight of the red-bay muscled stallion. Ashes to Ashes looked glorious in the mid-morning light. Laura posted confidently in the small racing-saddle, a grin plastered across her face. She was exercising the horse she usually galloped at home. This time, however, it was on the biggest stage and versus Ashes' regular rider Brookson Wells. She patted his bowed neck as he approached Witch Creek's head and assistant trainer. She could feel Brooks' critical eye pass over her mount. Ashes rippled with strength and he paused to stand with a commanding presence in front of Red Herring. Brooks would not find anything about the stallion's appearance to criticize. The stallion was in the best form of his three year career. I hope he gets his Dirt Mile victory this time around, Ripley said as she rubbed the stallion's face. He nickered, softening under her gentle hand. He just missed to a champion last year. Brooks nodded, a smile touching his lips.

Well, Ripley had to put her own barrier in for us to face this time around. Ripley sent a stern glance in his direction, slicing him with cold eyes. Crow deserves just as much of a shot as Ashes in the Dirt Mile. No horse is a cinch. Laura could feel the thick tension between Ripley and Brooks, noting that for the first time in a while that they had come to the track together. She hoped a break in the ice would come soon because the staff was tiring of tip-toeing around them. So what's the assignment, Laura asked heatedly. Enough was enough. She would let Ashes' actions speak for themselves today. He was after all the reason they were even going to the Dirt Mile.

Ripley narrowed her eyes on Ashes and Red, clearly thinking. Gallop them a mile and a quarter. Break off and complete a four furlong workout. Neither of them need extra work as they've both raced recently. Laura hummed in agreement, spinning Ashes to Ashes around and galloping him off. If Ripley and Brooks were intent on squabbling again, she didn't need to hear it. Ashes danced over the dirt, legs covering the ground with easy strides. His mane tossed in the wind, emphasizing his grace and power. He was a magnificent creature. The Breeders Cup Dirt Mile would be his very last race. Laura would send him off with a good workout and hope the stallion got his victory underneath Brooks.

Ashes ears tipped back to listen as Red Herring galloped strongly up their outside. The red colt pinned his ears mockingly in the direction of the bay stallion. Ashes snorted and tipped his head inward. He had long since had enough of the cocky three year old. Laura patted Ashes' silky neck in comfort. Today could be the day that he met Red Herring and beat him to a pulp.

Brooks was motionless aboard his mount. The Arizona colt had grown into a fierce competitor, one that was notorious for being a hard ass to every front runner and stalker in his races. Red Herring's cruel tactics had burned more than a couple of horses in his two years. As he caught up in strength and filled out, Red Herring was becoming even more dangerous, more tough. When he faced the Breeders Cup Classic horses, he would be the dark horse who had been improving at a rapid rate in his fall-winter season. He had the most upside, along with rival Born To Impress, as he had room for improvement. The older horses, not so much. Brooks could feel the bomb ticking within his mount. Red Herring had been training like he had going into The Honorable Stakes. His gallops had been very forceful and he was probably training the best he'd ever had.

The colt and stallion beat the dirt with their hooves as they traveled together up the middle of the backstretch. Red Herring stayed a neck in front of Ashes to Ashes, ears pinned and teeth bared around his bit. Not one above intimidation, Red Herring swayed inwardly a few times. Ashes to Ashes, soldiered by Laura's urging, did not get intimidated. He stayed rock solid on the rail when Red bore down on their outside. Laura was proud of her trainee. Ashes needed a confident rider in order to be a confident racehorse. She nudged him up to run head and with Red Herring, upping the tension between the workmates. Red twisted his head on his thick neck, eyes glowing with hatred as he took in his mortal enemy. He threw an athletic buck, Brooks' smacking him on the shoulder. Red shook his head head, furious at being scolded when he'd meant to bury Ashes in the ground. Brooks just didn't seem to comprehend the fact that the earlier Red Herring scared the competition off, the less they would have to deal with later on.

Ashes to Ashes dashed alongside the rail, body tilting against the centrifugal force. His eyes spoke of annoyance and intelligence. If Red Herring wanted a fight, he would have to catch Ashes first. Laura could feel the waves of speed flood Ashes' blood with adrenaline. He motored through the turn, changing leads on the command, pushing Red Herring, in all his brazen glory, to keep up with him. The red-bay cruised through the homestretch, well in hand as he passed through the wire. Laura glanced along the rail, noting the gathering clockers and spectators. Ripley was among them, her green eyes frozen on her horses, mouth glued shut. She would not answer questions until after the workout.

A grin lighted up Brooks face as Ashes took to a length lead over his burly chestnut. There was no doubt about it, Ashes to Ashes was much fleeter in body type than Red Herring.  The colt maintained a machine-like pace, tracking his older counter part with a hot calculation. Brooks guided the horse to the rail, nodding when he settled there, head level to his shoulders. The less ground wasted, the better. Brooks kept his hands still then as Ashes to Ashes marched into the backstretch once again. Red Herring's great strides traveled effortlessly over the great dirt track. He was a picture of focus, stalking his prey and waiting for just the right time to pounce.

Laura did not budge an inch as Ashes dominated the race track. His body spread out over the course, taking every centimeter of his great body for granted. He was a blast to ride, the type of horse that could run at this magnificent pace for as long as you liked. Laura enjoyed the cold wind blasting her in the face as Ashes upped the pace going into the far turn. His body flexed as if he knew Red Herring would be coming any second. The chestnut colt always pounced on him in the stretch with unbending fury. Laura tapped his shoulder, nodding in approval when the red-bay stallion kicked on. He widened his lead to three lengths, pushing off of his haunches with power. There you go buddy. If Red wants to play games, we'll make him come to us first.

Brooks narrowed his eyes the minute Laura tapped Ashes for more. Red Herring was going to be in trouble if he didn't move soon. Once Ashes to Ashes got under a full head of steam he was hard to beat down. Red rumbled into the stretch, ears pricked for once as Ashes rolled down the stretch four lengths in front. Brooks shook the reins at the colt, clinging to his mane when the chestnut launched his body forward. Brooks leaned low when Red made up the ground separating the two in rapid strides. They were 200 yards from the wire. A stride had Red a length behind Ashes, then a second had him at the stallion's barrel. Brooks shook the reins, imploring the colt to give a little extra. Red Herring surged forward coming to Ashes' throat-latch. Laura emboldened Ashes with some cat calls. The bay and chestnut powered beneath the wire, Ashes with his nose down first.

Laura pumped a fist into the air. Ashes galloped strongly into the first turn again. The horse was ready for the Dirt Mile off of what could be classified a scintillating workout. Red Herring powered past them, ears pinned and eyes glowing with fury. Brooks patted the chestnut horse's neck. A talented horse getting good at the right time was even more dangerous when he was feeling vindictive. The competition in the classic would not find him wanting a week from now.

[*Ripley*]

Fifteen Minute Superstar
.featuring.
.calamity queen. dazzling dame. whipped cream.

If there was going to be an electric workout right from the start, it was going to be this one. Ripley and Brooks leaned against the inner rail, surrounded by press. Other barns had arrived and now the track was teeming with activity. Horses galloped over the turf, kicking up clumps of it in the faster workouts. Some danced gracefully, not even disturbing the environment as they passed. That would not be so the minute Witch Creek's trio of dark bays set hoof on the turf course. Ripley knew the reporters were wondering which horses she would send out, since neither herself nor Brooks were prepared for the set. Ripley knew that this next set was not on everyone's list of picks in the Breeders Cup Turf Marathon or Filly and Mare Turf, though none of the trio could be considered a bad entry.

Dazzling Dame was coming in off of a roaring victory in the Beverly D. Whipped Cream had gone from grade five to winning the Melbourne Cup. Calamity Queen had won the Cotillion Stakes earlier in the season and would be looking for her grade two victory. The bay filly would faceoff with Whipped Cream both in this workout and in the Filly and Mare Turf.  Brooks looked over his shoulder, blue eyes flickering to life at the sight of Justin Santiago aboard Dazzling Dame. I don't know Ripley... Dazzling Dame looks very, very good. Ripley turned, eyes narrowed. She had to agree. Dazzling Dame pranced beautifully over the course, her muscles very evident in every step she took. Dazzling Dame had come into the Breeders Cup last year off of a second place finish in the Beverly D. She'd been on her game then, but this year, she had become the champion mare behind only Whipped Cream and former stable-mate Flawed Princess. There was no Sillenia, no Alluring Assault. Dazzling Dame had the command of the racing world and she would go out at the pinnacle of her career, facing off with none other than her twin Infinite Warcry and rising star stable-mate Hokum.

Justin felt proud aboard his mare. And Dazzling Dame was his through and through. He had turned her around as a three year old, pitted her countless times against two Hall of Fame mares and now she was at the top of everyone's short list. He patted her sturdy neck as she neighed to announce her appearance. Reporters turned, an instant buzz went up as they took in Dame's form. She had been turning heads all week with her powerful gallops. Now they would see her matched against her stablemates, neither of which could be considered lesser opponents. He would exercise her today, gallop her up to the race and then they would turn their final run together into a celebration of their time together.

A bugle sounded just beyond Dazzling Dame causing Ripley to grin as Laura DeComte and Whipped Cream burst on the scene. The mare's body roiled with muscle as she shouldered her way onto the turf track at a canter. The Melbourne Cup winner was rested and prepared for her run in the Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Turf. She tossed her head, pulling the reins through Laura's gloved hands, eyes blazing with excitement and fire. A man nearby hummed at the sight of Whipped Cream, but Ripley's eyes had since moved to Calamity Queen. The Touch Up daughter stalked almost silently behind her louder stablemates. Her body was just as impressive as her older counterparts, her gaze demanding of attention. The three year old took everything in with her alert eyes. She processed the information, filing it away for a later moment. The Cotillion Stakes winner looked every bit as competitive as the older mares. Ripley was excited to run Calamity Queen until the lease ran out in June. It was nice to get her hands on the dark bay daughter of her favorite stud.

The trio gathered before Ripley and Brooks. Alright... Mile and a quarter gallop, five furlong workout. Don't punch it until you hit the homestretch.
Keep Calamity Queen outside of Dazzling Dame. Dame's gotta get used to this rail, especially since she'll be on it with Hokum to her outside. Brooks nodded in agreement, looked at Laura. She's explosive, so I don't want to see you swarming the other two half-way up the stretch. You make her hold herself together until mid-stretch. It's going to be a tough race, foolish moves will cost us the race.

Laura's green eyes sharpened with irritation as she stuffed the hurt to a place no one would see. I'm not going to cost us a race, Brookson Wells. Don't worry, you're orders will be followed to a "T." Laura trotted Whipped Cream off, feeling like she was playing with a loaded gun. Rea was feeling her oats, kicking up her heels to the sky with a bright squeal. The Whippet mare was going to be a contender in the Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Turf. She'd probably be the second choice behind only former stable-mate Flawed Princess. The mare shifted into her canter, rolling forward like a steam train. She was on her best form yet. Everything had been leading to this point with Whipped Cream. Laura had secretly harbored dreams of getting the difficult horse to the Breeders Cup and now, here they were.

Dazzling Dame and Calamity Queen broke off side by side, just as Ripley had ordered. Queenie maintained a stubborn neck lead over the older mare, eyes glittering. Maggie patted the filly’s neck as she cruised alongside Dazzling Dame. She was the underdog of the entry in the Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Turf. That did not mean she was to be underestimated. Maggie could feel the drive and ambition to get the victory pounding inside the daughter of Royal Assault. They were a good match. Maggie had more patience than anyone in the world. Calamity Queen needed patience at this point in her career.

The mare and filly slipped around either side of Whipped Cream. Rea tossed her head viciously, demanding Laura to release her. Laura shook the reins, pulling the bit out from between her teeth. Not now, mare. Later, you'll get your time. The thunderous mare skipped along, switching leads in a show of aggressive play. Laura cocked a brow, hoping that Brooks and Ripley weren't seeing these antics. They wouldn't be impressed.

Dazzling Dame and Calamity Queen bounded along three lengths ahead of Rea. Dame was snorting, fog coming from her nostrils with every fierce breath. She ran with neck bowed and tail lifted. Justin could feel everything they'd worked for coming to a head. Dazzling Dame was picture of grace racing power. There was no doubt that she was at the top of her game. She pounced on the turf with each strong stride, ears pricked and eyes glowing. Calamity Queen moved along in front of Dame, ears pinned flat to her neck. She harbored a dislike for both older mares, having been galloped side by side with them since her arrival at Witch Creek. Maggie liked being aboard the unpredictable horse. Calamity Queen could be any kind of horse. She moved over the grass like any kind of horse.

The trio galloped into the homestretch, Queenie in front by a head. Whipped Cream lugged along at the back with heavy strides. Her tongue bobbed outside of her mouth and her eyes were filled with fire. Laura knew her mare was ready to cannon after her foes. She kept her hands silent as they passed back into the first turn. Just another half-mile to go and Rea would have her chance to strike. All Laura could do was watch as Dazzling Dame moved up to run head and head with Calamity Queen.

Maggie gritted her teeth as Queenie slammed forward to keep up with the rush of Dazzling Dame. The filly was all flashing speed and power. She battled fiercely with Dame, keen on going on and burying her. Maggie wriggled her fingers, bringing life back into their whitened grip. The filly softened her neck as Maggie's finger relaxed on the leather. She sighed as Calamity Queen let Dame gallop handily to a half-length lead. Maggie stroked Queenie's neck, smiling. If they could work out their partnership they could light up the tote-boards in the Filly and Mare Turf.

The far turn rose up dramatically before the trio. Dame leading the charge on the inside. Her legs swept over the course, her nostrils flaring excitedly. She knew it was time. Justin could just drop his hands and the mare would react. She roared into the turn, pulling on the bit. Calamity Queen fell back a length, thrown off by the eagerness of Dazzling Dame. Maggie pushed her a little keeping the filly just off of Dazzling Dame, but not letting the older horse completely get the better of her filly. Queenie was tactical after all.

Laura could feel Rea becoming pumped up. The heavy mare was snorting with every stride, throwing her weight around. Laura squeezed her forward, keeping her on focus. She wrapped herself to the rail, roaring off of the turn and into the stretch. Laura clenched her teeth. When was the correct time going to be to push the button. Whipped Cream could inhale the other two when Laura pushed her. She had a ton of horse. She held the big mare under wraps.

Maggie tapped Calamity Queen's shoulder with her whip, nodded when the filly bounded forward to run head and head with Dazzling Dame. The mare and filly raced down the track, power matched against speed. Justin barely needed to touch his mare. Her competitive nature had her easily keeping up with Calamity Queen. The younger filly kept her locked to the rail, not letting her off for a second, but it didn't bother Dazzling Dame much. She just barreled on, eyes fiery.

Hoofbeats sounded behind the two front runners. They belonged to none other than Whipped Cream. Justin and Maggie asked for a touch more. Rea was coming and she would be with them at the end. The trio of females bore down on the wire, battling mercilessly even when Whipped Cream roared up alongside Calamity Queen's outside. Laura wanted to send her mare on. Justin too. Neither could because of orders to keep them close. Calamity Queen fought hard between the two heavy-weights, not budging an inch even when they pushed in. They surged through the wire, side by side by side.

It was time to test the turf mares and filly against the best in the world.

[*Ripley*]

Twist of Fate
.featuring.
.frozen motion. bella luna. hokum.

Sizzling tension rippled through the crowd in front of Witch Creek's main racing barn. Three horses had been removed from their stalls. Three very important horses to those who would be most interested in the turf races on Breeders Cup day. Two grays, a stallion and filly, and a powerful 18 hand monster who was perhaps the most underrated three year old in the country. Ripley could feel the tension like a whip across her back. It crackled like lightning and threatened to bring a storm. She couldn't help the fact that the press got excited by the site of Caulfield Cup and Cox Plate winner Frozen Motion or Turf Triple Crown winner Bella Luna. She couldn't put a cloth over the fire alarm of press to block the smoke wafting off of Hokum. The son of Kore VS practically dragged Justin around, eyes blazing with fury and power. Ripley actually enjoyed the demonstration in a way. These fierce sounds and ripple of tension simply echoed the power of Ripley's turf contingent.

Feline Frenzy, Cross My Heart, The Devil's Hourglass, Prima Donna, Paranormal Hunter, Hokum, Frozen Motion, Bella Luna, Dazzling Dame, Whipped Cream, GS Royal Crown and at one point, Flawed Princess, had all carted Witch Creek straight to the top of the turf program. Ripley had never imagined turf horses would be the ones to carry WCS to the top, but she'd definitely take what she could get. Ripley clapped her gloved hands, cheeks red both with excitement and the winter chill. Alright guys, hop up. She walked down the row, green eyes glittering as she opened the stall door and led the demur chestnut mare from her stall, tacked and ready to go. Ripley cocked an eyebrow at the crowd when she had settled in the English saddle and taken the reins. Reese sent a playful grin in Ripley's direction as she trotted over on Bella Luna. Taking that old nag out for a spin?

Nothing but old nags for me. You guys get to have all the fun. Brooks spared Ripley a smile today, joining Reese on her way down the race track. Frozen Motion snorted in the mare's direction, but quickly turned his attention to the job at hand. Every muscle was cocked with power and precision. His coat was dappled out, each coin glinting silver in the 9 o'clock sunlight. Brooks had pulled the stallion's mane to perfection, taken every whisker off except for the ones in his ear and eyes. Freeze looked as showy as he ever had, perhaps even better than he ever had. The gray stallion was getting better with age, more brilliant and tactical than at any point in his career. He had two more races on the schedule before he would retire to stud. Ripley knew that more than a few hearts would be saddened when the powerful iron horse took his last stand on the racetrack in early Year Fourteen.

She glanced over her shoulder, hearing Justin making quick comments to Laura. You can't hold him too tight. That makes him angry. He's got a loaded gun and he's more agile than you think. Don't squeeze at all, just sit- Laura snickered, running a gentle finger down the high crested neck of Hokum. Justin. Relax. I'll take good care of him for you. Justin shook his head, ran a finger through his short hair. This decision had been the hardest to make for him. Choose Dazzling Dame in her finale or ride Hokum to possible glory. Ever faithful, Justin had chosen to ride Dame into the sunset of her racing career. He could not forget the mare who had taken him to new heights as an apprentice jockey in Year Twelve. Just good luck. I know you of all people will ride him well. Laura blinked warmly at him, asked the behemoth to jog path Ripley and the alerted chestnut mare.

Alright. Justin keep an eye on things. We'll be back. The boy nodded, but Ripley had already turned her mare toward the tracks. She was eager to get this particular workout done. The trio was in fine shape, possibly the finest out of all of her workout sets. Bella Luna and Freeze were coming off spectacular efforts in the World Turf Cup and Tropical Rainforest Invitational... And well Hokum had opened a lot of eyes in his Donn Handicap masterpiece. Ripley rubbed her hands together, letting the mare dance down the track as though she knew exactly where to go and what awaited her. The mare picked up a quick staccato canter, ears pricked as Freeze, Bella and Hokum stepped foot onto the dirt. Fifteen more minutes, Sunny.

Bella Luna danced beautifully down the length of the dirt homestretch. Her head was cocked to watch the horses on the inside charge by, her neck slightly bowed in a show of grace. Reese was having the time of her life at this Breeders Cup, aboard her favorite filly and was just itching to take home the Breeders Cup Mile. Bella snorted, twitching her ears when Freeze cantered by, darker tail billowing out behind his dappled rump. Brooks was motionless in the saddle. Reese picked up a similar stance, allowing Bella to float into her own graceful canter. Reese held onto the reins by her typical pinkie, feeling the same connection with Bella that she had found at the beginning of the season. Only this time, the connection was stronger, Bella Luna was a champion and Reese had piloted her way into the history books. It was time to take another step on their great journey.

Brooks could feel the thrum of strength as Freeze cantered around the turn and toward the gap. The gray stallion had been making an excellent representation of himself in the past week leading to the Breeders Cup. His gallops over the turf had been strong and the press had more than once remarked that Silent Fury, whenever he showed up, had a lot of ground to catch up, at least in appearances. Brooks slapped his charge's neck, glorying in all of the praise Frozen Motion had received. Every word the press put in the paper would never add up to the love, affection and respect that Brooks held for Frozen Motion. The horse snorted as he slowed to a trot to cross onto the turf track. He was ready to make the crowd ooh again. Brooks twined his hands in Freeze's mane, blue eyes shockingly bright and happy.

Thunderous hoofbeats echoed every thought that scurried through Laura's head. Her excitement and the adrenaline rush she was experiencing were off the charts high. She was on HOKUM! Hokum of Donn Handicap fame. Hokum who had stalked and surprised the press by his thoroughly impressive last race. She would ride this extremely well-bred horse in the Breeders Cup Turf Marathon against stable-mate Dazzling Dame and her twin brother Infinite Warcry. Laura had practically blown her top when Ripley and Justin had told her. This was a dream come true to be on a horse with such fantastic qualities who was not even approaching his limit yet. The large animal covered the ground beneath her with huge, effortless strides. He dominated the turf landscape and his epic proportions made him an instant stand out. Laura could not wait to feel the power of this rising-star. Even if it was only for the remainder of the week.

Freeze immediately took up the point on this particular train. He didn't need any asking. He knew what his job was in this predictable world of workouts and racing. Brooks let the reins hang semi-loose between Freeze's mouth and his hands. The dappled gray simply bounded out on his own. He would cover the mile and a quarter distance and still have plenty left for the four furlong blowout. Brooks leaned close to his mounts well-held neck, fingers itching to grab hold of the reins and shake Freeze to his most dangerous high cruising speed. Instead, the man simply held himself still as the graceful stallion galloped up the backstretch of the turf course.

Bella Luna and Hokum flitted along two lengths behind Frozen Motion. It was Freeze's inherent speed that made him dangerous. However, Hokum and Bella had plenty of their own and could easily sit covered up while Frozen Motion, or any front runner really, did the dirty work. Hokum dominated the scene to Reese's right. Every stride of his was potent and powerful. The ground shook and he made his presence felt. Bella's ears flickered on her head whenever the colt slackened or picked up the pace. She wasn't usually interested in her rivals, but this one made her curious. His huge size made him the elephant in the room. Bella glided over the course, taking the turn with ease even while quickening her pace. She floated a horse width out, not even carrying Hokum out. The big horse had taken the four path into the turn, his long strides needing all the room they could get.

Laura was elated at the potent power beneath her. One single tap could have this horse motoring off of his rear end and tackling both Bella Luna and Frozen Motion. It would only take three monstrous strides, five to seal the deal. Laura clapped her hands mentally. This was a real dangerous horse, a dark horse of the most threatening breed. She forced her hands to be quiet, her legs to be still. One move could set the explosion off, break down the carefully planned workout that Ripley had set. Frozen Motion and Bella Luna put more distance between themselves and Hokum. Laura wasn't worried. Her freight train would be ready for her when she called upon him. Confidence in a mount first time riding them was hard to come by, but Laura had it.

The trio moved steadily up the homestretch and back into the first turn, Freeze throttled down in front. Brooks barely had to touch the stallion and he would rush off in a first-out attack. The others would have to chase him down at their own risk. Bella Luna still remained a nimble second. She'd gained a length on the leader, but was moving with confidence. Reese would either have to take her to the rail or rush and attempt to beat out Hokum to get position on Freeze's outside. Luckily, Bella was tactical for either plan. Reese simply bided her time, noting that Laura was unusually quiet aboard her larger-than-life mount. She immediately assumed Laura DeComte the most dangerous of the trio for this workout. Laura would have agreed with the assessment, green eyes sharp and analyzing. They had no clue as to the rush of power flood Laura's veins.

Freeze took them through the middle of the backstretch, easy stride breaking into a fierce flying stride. His forelegs lifted, frozen in a picture, as though he were about to take off and fly. He landed back to earth, soaring over the green course he had come to relish in the last two seasons. Brooks leaned close, happy with the cruising pace and pleased to find Freeze doing it all on his own. He simply danced with confidence and with courage. Each stride was one of poetry and magnificence. He galloped strongly into the turn, stride shortening for efficiency, but threatening to take off once the stretch opened before him.

Reese moved as soon as Frozen Motion hit the turn and showed all signs of continuing his powerful display. Bella Luna flared to life in a second, ears pinning to her neck, legs flying beneath her lithe frame. She not only beat Hokum to the spot on Freeze's outside, but did so in an extremely fast time. Mane and tail flew wildly around the lean gray filly as she put on a display of turn-of-foot. Brooks looked up, surprised to find himself with company already. Reese stayed focused on the path she wanted. Bella would not become intimidated by either stallion or Hokum who was now revving his engine two and a half lengths back.

Aggression made Hokum a very, very powerful mount. The instant Bella Luna took off to Frozen Motion's side, Hokum lunged after her. Laura, mindful of what Justin had told her, did not take up on the big horse. Once he got going, he liked to keep going. He stalled himself momentarily on the turn, realizing the pursuit of Frozen Motion and Bella Luna would be better off if he slowed down at his weakest point in the race. Laura could feel the echo of power in the large bay when his opponents straightened out and raced away from him. He erupted off of the turn with a quick change of pace, nearly bolting out to the sixth path. She did not need to correct him. He'd found the path of least resistance: down the middle, on the outside of Bella Luna and away from Frozen Motion's dogged determination. The young woman shook the reins, holding in her cackle when the colt roared down the track, closing with tremendous strides.

She did not move anymore as he rolled up alongside Bella Luna. The gray filly shot forward a moment before he reached her haunches, sweeping Frozen Motion alongside her. The gray stallion did not notice the bay until she had bolted. Laura cursed, seeing the indignant light in Freeze's gaze. Now Hokum was in for a fight. His ears were locked flat to his heavy black mane and he dominated the view of those watching from the rail. But Laura could tell Hokum was at a slight disadvantage. Enthralled by the hatred of losing, Bella Luna and Frozen Motion repelled the bid of the beastly horse, breaking to a half-length lead. Hokum kicked on again, suddenly realizing himself that he was about to go down. It was too late. Laura punched the air beside her mount in fury as Freeze and Bella darted across the finish line. Another jump and Hokum was bounding away, kicking up clods of turf in his wake.

Brooks and Reese allowed the grays to gallop out as they pleased. They didn't truly let off until five furlongs and didn't necessarily come to a controllable hand-gallop until the sixth. Freeze and Bella snorted, heads up when Hokum thundered back in their direction. Brooks scanned the large colt, patted Freeze's neck. You're a good man, Freeze. You looked the devil in his eye and beat him. Reese leaned down, planted a kiss on the neck of gray filly. Don't listen to him. You did the dirty work. It's only because of us that Freeze even knew Hokum was coming. The mare tossed her head as Ripley Marsh galloped up aboard El Sol del Mar. The mare looked happier than Brooks could recall. She whinnied, drawing attention to the little group. Ripley grinned, stroking her neck. They asked why I was riding a pony instead of another horse. I told them they needed to take a look at the history books and a second look at this mare. And Sunny gave them the sight of her quick little butt sprinting away up the track. Reese and Laura glanced back toward the rail, heard a loud hum from the press. I think they took notice Ripley.

Excellent. It didn't hurt to have this workout as a warm-up act. Fantastic rides, all of you.

[*Ripley*]

Prove Your Worth
.featuring.
.gs royal crown. mastermind.

One lone figure sat outside the stable row, rubbing infinite circles of saddle soap into well-conditioned leather. He was silent except for the occasional rub of finger against squeaky-clean leather. His face was blocked almost entirely by a warm scarf, only uncovering the area where his eyes would shine upon opening. He was lost in his day dreams at the ever ethereal five o'clock in the morning. He kept his eyes closed for there was nothing important to see today. He could barely see the other shedrow across from him, even with his eyes open. It was too foggy to bother to see. A thick shroud of white had blanketed Green Horse Fields at about one o'clock in the morning. It had yet to release its group. The only noises that sounded on this morning would be powerful noises, noises strong enough through the shackles of mother nature. The man leaned back in his chair, pausing in the process of rubbing saddle cleaner into the leather, when the creak of a stall door announced a presence.

He did not have to look up to know who it was. She was eternally the most quiet person he had ever met in his life. She could move with such practiced silence, a ghost traveling through the world of the living. Yet, she was so vibrant that she could light up his world with one snarky comment. He hated her and yet... he loved her desperately. He tilted his head, opening blue-jean colored eyes for the first time in a half-hour. Fiery green ones met them. He felt warmth spread through him. Well, you've done it again Ripley Marsh. You've brought the hellish fog with us to the most wonderful place on earth. I wonder what you're next trick will be?

She snorted, rolling her eyes, but said nothing. She simply walked right on by her assistant trainer, not bothering to nag him to do something more useful. She'd done everything already while the rest of her staff caught their sleep four days out from the big day. She stepped up the last stall, but the closest one to the office, and reached inside. Warmth spread over her fingertips as warm hay breath washed over her. A chestnut horse stared back with bright, enthusiastic eyes. Mastermind. Mastermind, the son of Hall of Famers Speed Demon and El Sol del Mar. Mastermind who was known for having the most talent of any three year old dirt sprinter out on the track at the moment. He was her horse. He had not always been hers in the way that his dam had been right from the start, but he was hers now. Their partnership had taken flight and now they were on the edge of going even higher toward the pantheon of greats. The Breeders' Cup Dirt Sprint awaited them. Canjun Moon awaited them. Forbidden To Fly awaited them. Midnight Sun and Aquatic Addiction awaited them. Their greatest challenge yet would come in the Breeders' Cup Dirt Sprint, but they were prepared.

Maggie nestled into the shoulder of her strong steel-gray colt. GS Royal Crown stood with his head outside of the stall, ears pricked down the row. He was a curious son-of-a-gun, cantankerous on certain days, but a cuddling type of horse when he wanted to be. He whinnied down the stall row. A snort answered back, probably from Ashes to Ashes. Maggie patted Crow's powerful shoulder. Don't get too used to that stud now. You're facing off with him in four days. And Lynara's Kingdom, Arachne and Gamble on Peace as well. Look how far we've come buddy. She kissed his nose when he ducked inside the barn, trying to figure out what she was so eager to talk about. His eyes glinted with intelligence, his mouth moving around the bit that sat in his mouth. He looked every inch the challenger that he would be going into the Breeders' Cup Dirt Mile. He was a very dangerous horse. Maggie was eager to test the mettle of her brazen mount against the best of the best. The world's biggest stage was the place to do so. She patted his shoulder, opened the stall door and led the 16.2 hand colt out into the world of fog.

Maggie knew that the racetrack would be empty right about now. Empty save for the two horses that would be stepping out onto the dirt. Witch Creek horses worked in this type of powerful fog often. The riders had long since become accustomed to its heaviness in the mountains. Ripley had been praying for fog all week. Especially for the two horses in this set. GS Royal Crown and Mastermind got highly revved up by the presence of an audience. It was not the wash-out kind of revved up that most horses did. It was a show-off-everything-you-had type of revved up. Mastermind and GS Royal Crown were the show offs of the barn. Four days out from the Breeders' Cup was not the time to put on a grand display of speed and power. Maggie leaped into the saddle, taking the reins in her hands. She guided Crow up and down the stall row, smiling as the horse moved his small head from left to right, trying to see through the fog. No audience today, Crow boy. She patted his neck, glancing up when Ripley stepped out leading Adonis himself.

Mastermind stood up straight, ears pricked, locked on GS Royal Crown with high interest. He stomped a hoof, sizing up the colt before him. Ripley grinned, climbed onto the back of her talented horse. He snorted, bowing his neck, eyes blazing as he recognized what the presence of Crow meant. It meant a good, strong workout and a chance to run his heart out. Ripley hoped to keep some sort of cage on Mastermind's bold need to bury his rival, but she wouldn't mind a bit of a lung opener herself. Nudging Mastermind, the pair of horses set off for the track side by side.

Crow was a muscular powerhouse where Mastermind was elegance and grace. Crow walked with his head level to his shoulders, ears flickering back and forth, listening to Maggie's body for cues. She remained still in the saddle, feeling completely at ease with her ease. Crow had calmed down and become more focused over his three year old season. He was maturing in leaps and bounds, just in time for the Breeders' Cup. Ripley was silent, eyes flickering as the track rails appeared in front of them. It was dead silent. There was no audience today. No other equine would appear for at least an hour. Ripley nodded as Mastermind took the first hoof-step onto the racetrack. He snorted, ears pricked, craning his head to listen for some horse's response. He tossed his head, irritated that no one had responded. He flicked his tail, pawing the dirt commandingly.

A mile and a sixteenth gallop. Three furlong workout. The woman trotted the horses down the length of the homestretch. Crow attempted to break into a canter more than once, but Maggie's hands kept him to his jarring jog. Crow was a dream horse, but his gaits weren't that great until you hit racing speed. Maggie stood in the saddle, all her weight in the stirrups, hands well-connected to her horse's mouth. Crow settled in, all the while keeping tabs on Mastermind. The chestnut horse's orange hood flickered now and then when moisture dripped down the nylon cover. The well-bred colt looked extremely threatening in this environment, like he owned the place. He was arrogantly beautiful and he knew it. Ripley asked for his gallop and was rewarded with an effortless bound. Crow jolted right into his gallop, tail streaming behind him as he took up chase.

Two pairs of hoofbeats thudded in the immediate area, emphasizing what a lonely place Green Horse Fields could be in the morning. Mastermind floated over the track, head and tail carried. His mane fluttered on the breeze of his own making. Ripley hardly moved, hardly breathed. This was a little piece of heaven for her. The horse had such a tremendous presence on the track and such a tremendous place in her heart. She twined her fingers in his mane, thankful that she would not have to let him go until this time next year. The colt snorted through his nostrils as he glided up the backstretch, loosening his muscles with every stride in preparation for the blowout. He knew every single one of Ripley's plans before she even said a thing. He'd been her guinea pig throughout the year after all.

GS Royal Crown broke the sound barrier with his overall lack of grace. He was the epitome of the class clown in motion, stumbling over his hooves, skipping along like a little kid. Maggie had to right herself more than a couple times. Mastermind was the focused one. GS Royal Crown was the smart one. He knew the difference between game time and workout time. Workout time equaled play time. Well... except the really fast workouts. Those definitely got his attention. Maggie enjoyed the horse's goofiness, his spoiled nature delighting her even now. He skittered sideways, just missing Mastermind's haunches. A length behind, the steel gray horse righted himself, focusing temporarily on simply tracking his stablemate.

The duo picked up the pace just before the far turn. They would blow out from the head of the stretch to the beginning of the first turn. They would have the whole straightaway to take advantage of their speed. Mastermind pressed smartly on the bit, lolling his tongue up against it to pressure Ripley into releasing him. Ripley leaned close, taking his mane in her face like a set of miniature whips. Mastermind flew into the turn, running parallel to the rail, eyes darkening with intensity as Ripley leaned close. It was almost time. Ripley's eyes blazed with adrenaline and excitement. Nearly there... almost...

Crow erupted off of the far turn three paths wide, two away from Mastermind. His knees lifted into the air, ears flattening back into his neck and mane. His eyes were lit with such determination as he tackled Mastermind right from the get-go. Maggie urged herself to keep still. Crow could handle this situation as easily as any other. It was not a true race after all. Blonde strands of hair were matted to her face, cold and soaking against her bright red cheeks. Maggie leaned close to her defiant mount, warming up as he tore down the track side by side with Mastermind.

Mastermind burned the course with the intensity of his speed and talent. He soared, very nearly putting GS Royal Crown away more than a few times before Ripley Marsh reminded him to be a good workmate. The chestnut colt was a symphony in equine movement as he bounded along the rail, passing beneath the wire with great strides. Ripley was overjoyed with how he was moving even at such a high speed. Here was a colt who had no limits, who was classy and strong with a humbling personality and yet, who could humble anyone witnessing his greatness. Ripley knew he was great. He was great because he was limitless and just never seemed to stop getting better.

Maggie knew Mastermind had their number two strides past the wire. GS Royal Crown, bless his heart, did not. He bore down the track, such a fiend in his rage and intensity. He pushed mightily off of his haunches, gaining on Mastermind's two length lead. Maggie still remained quiet, even knowing that Ripley had let her fingers off of the trigger button on her chestnut. Crow had to learn to power on by his competition. The steel gray rumbled up to Mastermind's barrel, then his neck. The workout would be completed in about one hundred desperate yards. Mastermind suddenly alighted then to Crow's presence. He re-broke, but did not find himself lacking in an opponent this time. Crow carried his momentum like a wild-fire, growing larger until it became insurmountable. The duo surged to the finish line, neck and neck, hooves beating like gun-fire as the fog lifted.

Ripley and Maggie stood up at the same time, tugging the horses up from their breath-stopping run. The women glanced at one another, eyes bright with eagerness and excitement. The three year olds would have something to say when they took on their elders once again in their respective Breeders' Cup races. And their riders couldn't wait to put them in a position to prove what they actually were worth.

[*Ripley*]

Now or Never.
.featuring.
.midnight thriller. fiery touch. supernatural.

Nine o'clock in the morning brought sunshine to throw away the heavy fog. Suddenly, it seemed as if someone had turned the sound on maximum level. Humans called back and forth, rugs slapped over clotheslines, horses snorted and neighed as they made their way out to the track. It was Breeders' Cup time and everyone was out and about. Horses had started going to the track at 7:30, trainers not wanting to wait any longer to get out onto the esteemed Green Horse Fields track. Ripley Marsh was still cackling to herself. She'd outsmarted the reporters who had ventured out just in time to see GS Royal Crown and Mastermind coming back from their workout.

She'd shrugged when they asked for a final time. She hadn't caught one, hadn't even brought a watch out with her.

If they wanted to clock horses, they could clock this next trio. She patted the neck of lean, classy light bay mare, appreciating Fiery Touch for every ounce of her majesty and strength. The bay mare cocked her head to one side to take in all of the action, ears pricking now and then at the click of the cameras. One thing Fie had going for her was her innate ability to always look fantastic for the cameras. She snorted, mouthing the bit in her mouth, glanced at Ripley as if to say get on with it. Ripley patted the mare's neck, glanced around, smiled when Reese and Laura walked toward her. The gray and black horses were mirror images of one another and yet they carried themselves with same prideful, racy look. Each eyed up Fiery Touch then the crowd. Each of them was more interested in their future competitor rather than in the people who had watched them like always since their arrival. Fiery Touch just looked away with disdain. These two again, she seemed to say.

Yep... These two again Fie. Ripley petted the mare's neck, nodding when Laura hopped aboard Midnight Thriller. The lean black mare was poised for action. Her body gleamed like a raven's wing, coins spreading over her haunches when the sun touched her. Her dark eyes flashed with intensity as a reporter drew closer. She switched her tail over her rump, stretched her neck out with her ears pinned flat. The reporter hustled back immediately when Midtee made a lunge after him. Laura yanked sharply on the reins, jerking the temperamental mare backwards. The mare snorted furiously flashing the Night Stalker blood that roared through her veins. Laura turned the horse away. A smile tinged her thin lips, a warning light in Ripley's eyes made her smother it.

Supernatural stood with ears pricked, locked onto a reporter with a plastic bag in his hand. Her eyes were surrounded by a rim of white, her body tense and poised for run. Oh, the joys of having a hot blooded racehorse. Reese followed her two year old filly's gaze, encouraged that Siri was not decided on taking off. She was getting better every day they were at Green Horse Fields. She was becoming accustomed to the weird things that humans not from Witch Creek did. She twitched her tail, dismissing the plastic bag her full attention. Her gray ear, however, remained latched on it. She wasn't quite convinced. Reese's eyes flickered with amusement. Siri was as endearing a mount as they came.

Ripley mounted Fiery Touch, the bay mare instantly coming alive beneath her. The Breeders' Cup distaff would be her last start of her career. Ripley patted the mare's neck, counting down how many rides she had left aboard her favorite horse. The mare would get a year to relax before she became a full-fledged broodmare at Witch Creek so she would be ridden somewhat, but not the routine she was used to. The routine had made her a champion, a tough horse who could chew up nails for breakfast and spit them out bent. Ripley did not allow the tears to touch her eyes. Fie was not going anywhere. She was just switching jobs on the farm, but her era was coming to an end. Ripley wanted to send her out in a way that made her entire career proud: fighting til the moment she crossed the wire.

Laura felt the toughness of Fie sharpen Midnight Thriller's intensity. The black mare pranced on her toes, ears dead-locked on her foe. She'd been galloping with Fie and Siri since her arrival at Green Horse Fields. She'd been itching to tackle them at a full run and she seemed to sense that this would be the moment. Laura would take her first ride on the cobalt mare in the Breeders' Cup Marathon versus the most even field in the history of the Breeders' Cup. She could hardly wait to put her greyhound of a mare to the test. She had not raced a lot in Year Thirteen, but her three victories spoke of her class. She also had to prove herself on the biggest stage when the whole world was watching. Eternal Phantom was not running in this race, but her shadow tracked them no matter where they raced.

Siri skittered onto the dirt track, flipping her forelock up and down, covering her playful dark eyes. She stretched her legs out, placing each hoof in a particular place as though it was ordained she could only step in certain areas. Reese could feel the strange goosestep, but had long since become accustomed to the dirt filly's antics. Siri was fun and strong. She was a goof ball before the race, but the second she entered that gate her entire persona changed. She simply shut it down and became a professional. She was the top dirt distance filly in the juvenile ranks, her main rival the grade three, former Witch Creek runner, Limited Edition. It was time to strike down that foe for the final time of the season.

The trio of women urged their mares into long, ground covering gallops. Fiery Touch took up the lead, her blaze face glowing in the sunlight. She was so happy to be out on the track, eyes flashing with joy and fire. Ripley leaned close felt that hidden power breach the surface. Her muscles were on full display, her coat practically golden in the sunlight. She kicked up clumps of dirt in the wake, exuberance causing her to kick up a little more than was necessary. She swooped into the first turn, a three-quarter length lead on Midnight Thriller. The dark bay just cantered along with her massive strides, not even putting effort into the workout. She was the picture of ease and efficiency. Laura wondered if she had her best year ahead of her yet. Midtee would not be joining the broodmare ranks for one, maybe two, years. Reese patted the silky black neck, reveling in the thought of riding the powerful black horse. She would bring glory to El Sol del Mar's other daughter.

Siri skipped over the course, ears bobbing above her head, tongue playing with the bit. Her strides were strong and though she was not quite as effortless as Midtee, Siri still made a good appearance. She snorted, dipping her head slightly. The reins skimmed through Reese's gloved hands. The gray filly did better with a loose rein than a tight one. Reese leaned close, brown eyes sparkling when Siri danced three wide into the backstretch. She tackled the ground, gaining intensity with the speed of her momentum. Her ears pinned to her neck as she picked up speed, gaining a length on her elders. 

Ripley and Laura glanced under their arms to see Siri roaring up behind them. The gray filly was doing it all on her own, Reese careful to not anger the filly who was used to picking up the pace with every furlong that she ran. Just a half-mile more to go. Then I want a six furlong workout. Let's give them a good stamina builder for their races. Laura and Reese nodded briefly, eyes sharpening as they pondered tactics for the coming "race." Ripley let Fiery Touch out a notch, feeling the big mare loosen up her limbs. Her eyes flashed with annoyance when Midtee came right to her throat-latch. She kicked on, squealing a little when Midtee fell back quite rapidly. Ripley tugged lightly on the reins, feeling a brief resistance, but soon the rangy mare was galloping along as easily as before. She just needed a reminder to not take the galloping so seriously.

The horses remained in position for the remaining portion of the gallop. Only Siri had demonstrated speed in the last portion of the galloping jaunt. By the time the mares reached the head of the backstretch, the gray filly was running head and head with Midtee and Fie. Ripley nodded, taking up head of the pack aboard Fie. The big mare was the fastest of this trio, but her fastest pace in the coming race, at least in the early portion, would be sitting a chilly third waiting to pounce on War Cry and Sizzling Dawn and getting first run on Nightshade. She would be sitting a cool pocket spot, breaking outside one speed runner and inside of the confirmed closer. She would have her rail shot the minute she broke through the gate. Ripley could feel victory within reach. Fiery Touch deserved to go out on top.

The big light bay mare strode out, flying up with the course with great leaping strides. Ripley felt tension in the leather reins, but held the mare together the best she could. Fie was a powerhouse, but she needed a little structure. She cruised along, eyes blazing with the ecstasy of running. Ripley hummed under her breath, counting off fractions. Fie was a beast. She'd once hated this track, but her win over it in the Dubai Filly Cup had given her a much needed boost of confidence. Ripley wrapped her fingers around the whipping black mane, enjoying the power that coursed beneath her. Four furlongs to go.

Whoa, murmured Laura underneath her breath. Fie was cruising a length and a half ahead of them, but Midnight Thriller was easily within reach. Her strides were magnificent, long and sweeping. She seemed to skim the surface like a black tornado eating everything in its path. Her ears remained hidden by her mane, eyes full of fire. Laura knew she just had to press the button and the black horse would fly up to challenge her stable-mate. Fiery Touch may be running in the higher-rated race, but Reese had no doubt about the class of her stamina-ridden mount. She leaned close Fie picked it up a notch, causing her mare to instantly leap into action. The black horse clicked the trigger, mouthed the bit, begging Laura to let go as they closed on the far turn. Laura forced a sense of calm down the reins, noting a response, but a very small one.

Supernatural bided her time in third place, three lengths behind Fiery Touch, one behind Midnight Thriller. The pace of her stablemates did not allow her a breather... That is if she required one. However, the long-winded filly just kept going and going, even increasing the pace to shrink the distance between herself and the four year old mares. Reese had a world of confidence in this particular mount. Siri had been terrific all season long, even after that terrible introduction to horse racing. Now, she was full of confidence, coming off a stakes win over Breeders' Cup Juvenile Fillies contender Restricted Access. Reese was prepared to press the launch button. The swept into the turn chasing after a steaming Fiery Touch and a calculating Midtee. Reese could feel Siri's antsy-nature start to take hold. They were out of time. It was time to go.

She shook the reins, pushing the gray filly forward with a might lunge. Supernatural launched forward off of her hind end, dashing around the turn with bounding strides. Ears locked, Supernatural reeled in her prey as they spun into the homestretch. Reese kept her hands still as Siri roared off of the turn, running head and head with Midtee in pursuit of a free-wheeling Fiery Touch.

Laura was not surprised to find herself locked in a heated battle with Supernatural. She had heard the gray filly building up to a tantrum level. Reese knew the filly too well. Now Laura was engaged in battle and the war still had yet to be won. She shook the reins at Midtee, cackling when the black mare surged forward with efficient, machine-like strides. Her body was stretched out, a horse version of the elastic toys that kids played with. Each hoof beat down into the dirt surface, lifting off in a great picture of precision. Laura was, again, not surprised to see Siri sticking to Midtee like glue. The gray filly had an odd penchant for getting tougher and faster the longer she raced.

Fiery Touch had heard the enemies coming before Ripley had. The light bay mare had gunned it, opening a three length advantage on her counterparts. She cruised down the lane all by herself, her ears pinned back. The hoofbeats were louder now as her stablemates united against her. Ripley kept her hands quiet, happy to find that her mare would indeed find some challenge in this workout. She glanced under arm, eyes widening as she saw the mare and filly come to Fiery Touch's haunches. She immediately returned to her job, grinning when the wire flared up before her eyes. One hundred fifty yards, baby. She nudged Fie on, delighted in the fact that the bay mare had discovered another gear. She flew, but not by herself.

Midnight Thriller and Supernatural swallowed the distance, rushing Fiery Touch as she reached her limitations and they just entered their strongest distance. The mare and filly gave one last burst, Siri running down the center of the track. Midnight Thriller stretched her body out as far as possible. Fiery Touch gritted her teeth, eyes blazing with fury. Together, the mares shot under the wire, strides thunderous and commanding. The last Witch Creek trio had served up notice. The other horses would be in for a fight.