Post by Sussy on Jan 20, 2014 17:31:57 GMT -5
Tears of Blood, Spring Cup Y14
A hand would follow the awe-striking contours of the stallions shoulder, an eye cast warily to his face as he would chew at the wooden rail in front of him. He was tied short, so short he would be unable to reach her should he decide to give his handler a good show of his teeth; it wouldn’t be unlikely. For now, he seemed quite happy to entertain himself, but any that knew the stallion knew just how effortless it was for him to flip his mind upside down and hit where it hurts. He was such a stallion, and apart of Ella almost believed he was the crankiest one she had ever managed to cross paths with. A low giggle would suggest her muffled thoughts, bridle hooked loosely over her thumb as she readied herself to ‘clothe’ him. It was always a mission.
His trot was huge, breezy, punching forwards with colossal power. He announced his maturity with every buoyant stride, propelling himself forwards with strengths barely imaginable. His neck craned to pressure, but his teeth pulled; a half-hearted fight for his head and dominance as the pair rounded the bend of the turf track at a powerful extended trot. But the chestnut had no desire to wait, and quickly he would drag his head downwards, attempting to pull it through Ella’s hands. She leaned back, becoming heavy down through her heels, supporting herself as Happy leapt into a canter. The canter was collected, but it wasn’t asked for, the young adult sending several sharp half-halts down towards the bit in an effort to bring him back to trot as a lesson in respect. And he did, but not before he let two decent bucks out of his system.
After making his statement, Ella would allow him onwards. And he would canter, his strides not so uphill as long and low; for his size his legs were considerably long, and his strides longer. He would stretch, his neck trying to pull down in an effort for freedom. But Ella would keep him contained, and after 3 furlongs of canter, she would finally urge him to gallop. With a seasoned transition as smooth as spun silk, he would usher himself forwards so naturally, seamlessly it was awe-striking. A huge contrast compared to their 3yo Stallion. But it was pleasurable and almost dreamy, his strides light and fluent, despite the huge amount of ground he covered. His nostrils flaired, ears pinning against his scalp as he began to quicken, showing his ‘Closer’ ability as he seemed to speed over half a furlong within meer seconds. Her breath was so taken aback, Ella almost forgot to reign him in after the 2 furlong sprint. But… wow, was he a stallion! And boy oh boy could he move.
