Post by tyra on May 7, 2012 8:52:25 GMT -5
It had been an amazing start to their career, there was no doubting it. The July Maiden Turf had seen them to a third position in their debut on the track, and this gave them a solid foundation upon which to build. Their next race was quickly approaching, and Amber was more than ready for it mentally. While she had hidden her nerves for the last race, this time she had no need to hide them. They didn't exist. She had proven herself, and Jackie had proven herself also. This month, they would race on the dirt and so far the field consisted of five horses.
Jackie would be running from gate one, which meant she would be close to the rail. Due to her slow starts, Amber felt that they had little to worry about from this. They were unlikely to end up boxed to the fence when they were at the back of the pack. In gate two, the front runner Cold Mountain was due to make his debut. A large colt, but it didn't worry Amber. The gate three starter was a little more worrying, but not much. Declarate was a three year old who ran in the preceder or mid pack positions, and with two thirds in five races she wasn't exactly a bad racer. But she wasn't great either. Gate four held Azrael, a two year old colt who had five starts and one place - not really a huge threat. Gate five held Imma Zombie - a colt who had two starts for nothing. All in all, the field was not strong and with work it seemed that there was a good chance for them to shine.
They stood out on the track because of the colours the dark bay filly wore. Her racing hood was a union jack, the flashy three-coloured flag of the United Kingdom. Red, white and blue. Her bandages where white, the strips red and blue. Fitting for her name, which had been chosen as she had been sourced from England. Indeed, it seemed that Tyra was aiming to make their horses noticed in one way or another, and these colours guaranteed that heads turned. But heads turning for colours were not enough for Amber. She longed for more. She longed for real recognition. The kind of recognition which could only be gained by winning.
Jackie was as energetic as ever. She was prancing for the handlers, her head held high and audits perked. Dark eyes flashed as she moved toward the track, her muscles moving in their fluid motion. She tossed her head and snorted, pawing at the ground impatiently as she felt the handlers were holding her back. Making it take longer for her game to start. The thrill of running was not lost on the filly, and she always seemed eager to perform well. It was all a game to her, and she did her best to gain the upper hand. Which was good, because on race day her competitive spirit might just be the thing that pushed them to a victory.
Tyra sat in the stands and watched as her young daughter approached the filly, stroking her nose lovingly before mounting. Swift, determined. Tyra had seen the gleam in her daughter's eye in July Week 2, and was hoping to see it grow brighter with this race. Jackie had been showing herself to be talented in the pasture, so this workout could prove to be an interesting one. If the filly ran as well as she appeared to be capable of, then there was a high possibility of a good win in the maiden and then they could move on to bigger, and better, things.
Gating. It was a nightmare. Something about it struck sheer terror into the dark bay filly. She reared and backed up and made a real scene. She would have done anything to avoid it, and Tyra wandered how a horse could be so scared. The handlers fought to keep the filly under control as she attempted to buck, kicking out and generally making a huge fuss. Then one of the braver handlers grabbed the head collar and dragged the filly forwards, the other handlers pushing at her to make her move as hoped. It was a real fight, and the handlers seemed to struggle, but eventually the filly was in. She kicked out at the shutters as they were closed and snorted in discontempt, her audits slicked across her skull.
Amber released a slow breath and closed her eyes for a second. The traumatic part was over. For a moment she had thought the filly would throw her, but she had managed to stay mounted. The filly was not happy in the gates however. Amber could feel the fear and anger radiating from the thoroughbred beneath her and was definitely glad that they would be running soon. As she opened her eyes she cast them up the track with slight smile. A two furlong stretch, designed to let the filly run. Designed to let off steam and make sure the horse was not hot for the race which ran in a few days.
The gates opened and the filly started slowly. Straight away, Amber drove her. Urging her forwards. The filly had speed, but was usually slow to start and was shocked by being requested to move so soon. She responded, however, seeing it all as a challenge, and her powerful limbs carried her forwards. The dirt kicked up behind them, the filly powering forwards as they fought for the post. Amber cracked the crop, drove a few strides and cracked the crop again. The filly carried on the fight.
As they passed the post Amber felt ready, but wandered how the filly would perform come race-day.
Jackie would be running from gate one, which meant she would be close to the rail. Due to her slow starts, Amber felt that they had little to worry about from this. They were unlikely to end up boxed to the fence when they were at the back of the pack. In gate two, the front runner Cold Mountain was due to make his debut. A large colt, but it didn't worry Amber. The gate three starter was a little more worrying, but not much. Declarate was a three year old who ran in the preceder or mid pack positions, and with two thirds in five races she wasn't exactly a bad racer. But she wasn't great either. Gate four held Azrael, a two year old colt who had five starts and one place - not really a huge threat. Gate five held Imma Zombie - a colt who had two starts for nothing. All in all, the field was not strong and with work it seemed that there was a good chance for them to shine.
They stood out on the track because of the colours the dark bay filly wore. Her racing hood was a union jack, the flashy three-coloured flag of the United Kingdom. Red, white and blue. Her bandages where white, the strips red and blue. Fitting for her name, which had been chosen as she had been sourced from England. Indeed, it seemed that Tyra was aiming to make their horses noticed in one way or another, and these colours guaranteed that heads turned. But heads turning for colours were not enough for Amber. She longed for more. She longed for real recognition. The kind of recognition which could only be gained by winning.
Jackie was as energetic as ever. She was prancing for the handlers, her head held high and audits perked. Dark eyes flashed as she moved toward the track, her muscles moving in their fluid motion. She tossed her head and snorted, pawing at the ground impatiently as she felt the handlers were holding her back. Making it take longer for her game to start. The thrill of running was not lost on the filly, and she always seemed eager to perform well. It was all a game to her, and she did her best to gain the upper hand. Which was good, because on race day her competitive spirit might just be the thing that pushed them to a victory.
Tyra sat in the stands and watched as her young daughter approached the filly, stroking her nose lovingly before mounting. Swift, determined. Tyra had seen the gleam in her daughter's eye in July Week 2, and was hoping to see it grow brighter with this race. Jackie had been showing herself to be talented in the pasture, so this workout could prove to be an interesting one. If the filly ran as well as she appeared to be capable of, then there was a high possibility of a good win in the maiden and then they could move on to bigger, and better, things.
Gating. It was a nightmare. Something about it struck sheer terror into the dark bay filly. She reared and backed up and made a real scene. She would have done anything to avoid it, and Tyra wandered how a horse could be so scared. The handlers fought to keep the filly under control as she attempted to buck, kicking out and generally making a huge fuss. Then one of the braver handlers grabbed the head collar and dragged the filly forwards, the other handlers pushing at her to make her move as hoped. It was a real fight, and the handlers seemed to struggle, but eventually the filly was in. She kicked out at the shutters as they were closed and snorted in discontempt, her audits slicked across her skull.
Amber released a slow breath and closed her eyes for a second. The traumatic part was over. For a moment she had thought the filly would throw her, but she had managed to stay mounted. The filly was not happy in the gates however. Amber could feel the fear and anger radiating from the thoroughbred beneath her and was definitely glad that they would be running soon. As she opened her eyes she cast them up the track with slight smile. A two furlong stretch, designed to let the filly run. Designed to let off steam and make sure the horse was not hot for the race which ran in a few days.
The gates opened and the filly started slowly. Straight away, Amber drove her. Urging her forwards. The filly had speed, but was usually slow to start and was shocked by being requested to move so soon. She responded, however, seeing it all as a challenge, and her powerful limbs carried her forwards. The dirt kicked up behind them, the filly powering forwards as they fought for the post. Amber cracked the crop, drove a few strides and cracked the crop again. The filly carried on the fight.
As they passed the post Amber felt ready, but wandered how the filly would perform come race-day.