Post by S u N f r O s t ~ on Mar 25, 2012 17:35:27 GMT -5
FLASHY WINGS AND HENNA TURATH
FLASH'S WORKOUT FOR THE PREAKNESS STAKES
Henna's face was frozen into a mask of emotionless concentration. They were being written off. They were being treated as though they had no real talent anymore. Were they still marked as a threat? Yes, they were. But every horse in the race and every rider in the race were writing them off. They had placed second in the Derby, and their chances of winning were being doubted. It took only one loss for others to stop viewing them as they were. Henna wondered just what had happened. Impressario, Amber's blue blooded champion, had been beaten by his fair share of the competition as well, but he had not been doubted like this. It was like Flashy Wings just wasn't good enough to attract the eye for some reason. But he was talented. He was so talented, that Henna couldn't believe the way they were being slandered. Was Henna being dramatic? Yes, she was. But she was also pissed off and seeking vengeance.
Though his rider was cold, Flash was still the same as ever. He strode onto the dirt track as though he owned it. His eyes looked around him as though seeking a challenger. He looked like royalty, with his thick black mane blowing in the breeze and head and tail held proudly. He looked triumphant, as though he hadn't narrowly lost in the Kentucky Derby to Sunset Crusade. For the Preakness he was facing Dark Charmer, Lumiera and Euphorion. His rider was darkly pissed off right now. To bet against him in the Preakness, when they would be merciless in taking on and defeating the competition, was unwise. What other horse had won exactly half of their races and placed out of the top three only once? What other horse had stunning consistency like that? And what other horse had beaten all those older horses as only a juvenile? Flash had not just been the quickest to mature. He was the talented one that was no longer receiving respect for reasons Henna intended to correct.
Today, they were doing a blowout sprint. Henna wanted to vent her frustrations as well as give the spectators something to gawk at. She wanted to feel satisfied, and she wouldn't feel that way unless they won both this and the Belmont. Mercy was a word no longer known by her. She would give nothing but her best and she would ask Flash of nothing less than his best. He was in top form. He was going to show them again. So they took off at a trot, and then a canter, and the entire time Henna visualized the race and the ensuing victory. Lumiera, the True Enough daughter, would go straight for first. Flash would break alongside Euphorion and hang out around the colt. Behind them would probably be Dark Charmer, breathing down their necks for the entirety of the race. As they rocketed along, she would let Flash gain speed as he wished, all the while keeping to the outside. The longer distance would not harm the colt. Like his dam's foals before him, particularly his half siblings Pegasus Wings and Silent Wings, Flashy Wings had a ton of energy and would try to run it off in this race.
As they neared the final stretch, he would reach for his new gear and would leave the competition ages behind. They would not be able to keep up with his speed. He would win by a huge number of lengths, or so help her Henna would grind them into the dust. Leaving it on the track - this was what she was going to do. Though right now, they were merely trotting, and Henna got them going into a canter. Flash moved powerfully with a certain sureness in his movements that spoke of great practice. She didn't want him to canter for too long. She wanted to gallop, and then sprint. She desired the feel of speed. And as they broke into a gallop down the backstretch, Henna recognized the need within her own colt as well, and smirked. The final turn was quickly upon them, and she had her colt pouring it on. Her hands ceaselessly kneaded along his neck, following the natural motion of his head, and her eyes as well as his looked eagerly to the stretch.
Entering the stretch with no horses ahead of them, Henna solidified their imaginary lead with increased urging. Flash was quick to respond, and the world became a mere blur around them. There was nothing here except them. They were going for the gold. Henna's cold mask broke into a wide smile as they roared under the wire. She pulled him up, and the colt was unwilling to slow. He was full of run and full of talent. Henna's faith was rewarded here today with this spectacular run. She let the smile remain unceasingly on her face as they slowed to a standstill. She turned the blood bay around and inspected the track in front of them. The Preakness was going to be theirs. It was going to be their day of glory, their return to greatness. They were going to be merciless in the quest for this goal.
