Post by S u N f r O s t ~ on Mar 31, 2012 18:39:11 GMT -5
DASHING IN THE FIRELIGHT AND HENNA TURATH
Henna's face was set in an impassive mask. That seemed to be the norm for her these days. Ever since Fire had stopped winning and Flash had lost the Derby, Henna had been dead set on one thing; revenge. And the first thing on her last was to get her mare winning again. Dashing in the Firelight was dear to her heart; the five year old mare had come back last season in very impressive ways. She had been primed for this season. But for some reason, the mare had stopped winning. She had started a downward trend that had hit rock bottom with her last place finish in the These Old Bones Stakes last week. And Henna was sick of her favorite mare losing. Jessie James had taken her physical ability way, but they had regained it. and Henna would not accept anything less than greatness from Fire before she retired at the end of the year. This was her last season. They were going out with a bang.
Henna trotted the mare in tight circles, feeling for an irregularity in pace or speed. But Fire was physically fine; she listened and followed Henna's commands. Henna accelerated the mare into a canter, and performed some wider circles aboard her back. Again, she was greeted with poetry in motion from the five year old mare. So the real problem was that they hadn't been working hard enough. Henna recognized that the problem lay in her lack of work with her mare. She would rectify this problem shortly with her new workout plan, one she was coming up with as they rode. Today, she would gallop Fire a mile. Tomorrow, they would face some horse in a match race. The day after, they would have a pair workout with some other horse. And then the day after that, they would be alone again. They would work hard and regain their previous glory. Nothing would stop Henna from achieving this.
The canter was a bouncing gait. With Fire, it felt like the waves of a tsunamii. Each horse had a different feel to them. Fire's feel was one of power. She infused her very being with it, for it was the definition of what she was. She was a horse with a lot of heart. And that heart served her well. She was going to find that heart again and combine it with her racing. She was going to bring her mare back. Their circles were graceful, like a dressage horse. Henna crouched a bit lower as they came out of their last one. She loosened the rein and let Fire fly as she knew that she could. Their one mile gallop was underway. The dirt track whirled beneath them; they were going fast, but just fast enough to satisfy Henna's idea of a pace for today. This was not a tough workout; tomorrow was the real test.
For the first quarter of their gallop, Henna kept Fire tightly contained. She started to release some rein three furlongs in. Fire was a closer; she gained speed throughout the race and had a lot more stamina than most horses, even if she didn't have as much speed. She was a distance runner. Henna grinned as she felt the mare accelerating with the open rein as an invitation to her. It was a dizzying feeling, riding a horse that just kept giving more. Halfway through, the slow rate of acceleration was increasing. Fire was confidently gaining speed, letting her legs flash out in front of her and back, eating up ground. The turns were easy; she negotiated them like the pro she was and continued gaining speed down the backstretch.
The final turn was meeting them now. Henna continued to let the rein go as they entered it. Fire curved around it without breaking pace and flew into the stretch, nearing top speed. Henna let her accelerate to just below what she thought was near it and then held her in. She didn't want the mare to go that far in terms of effort today. Fire complied, but Henna knew that the mare wanted top speed. Tomorrow she thought, tightening her hold on the reins and slowly pulling Fire up as they coasted under the wire. Tomorrow, Fire.
