descendents [closed-Kirsten/Mano]

[Ripley]

Ripley Marsh was not used to coming to The Wire outside of entering the races and actually racing. Her green eyes flashed over the course as she stepped up to the rail. A light fog had staked claim over the race track, silent and preparing for the days' races. The place had an eerie feeling to it, so different from the homey sounds and smells of Witch Creek Stable. The atmosphere promised adventure, excitement. It promised hopes and dreams, and threatened failure and the other negative connotations that went with racing thoroughbreds.

The auburn haired woman looked to her right, stared into the emotionally reflective eyes of Saintly Touch. Here was her protege for the two year old season. Her well-bred, fantastically muscled version of a Night Stalker foal. Her first son of The Devil's Touch, her once upon a time Triple Crown candidate. Memories and hopes swirled in Ripley's head as gazed into the eyes of the seal brown colt. His one good eye was filled with enduring trust, his other blank, a swirl of cold mystery. She patted his neck, listened to the hollow sound of it, so thick was the fog.

They were here to assess the competition of The Wire Finish Cup Juvenile Dirt. And not just any competition. Saintly Touch's own relation: My Man O' War. My Man O' War, the second coming of Night Stalker, had attracted recent attention with startling fast win in the New Mexico Classic Cup Juvenile, a four length win. Both Night Stalker colts had two wins on their record, one had dominated last out, one had become last month's news by his absence. He hadn't fit in any races, particularly the one Mano had won. That had been for Sun King.

But now Saint was back. Ripley was glad to have her ferociously fast, ferociously tough near black horse back. She was eager to show her old buddies at Akita Rose Stables that she hadn't lost her tough. And was she ever eager to pit her Saintly Touch against their My Man O' War.

Climbing aboard, Ripley guided Saint through the gap onto the dirt track, asked him to stand and prepared to wait for the other descendent of Breeding Hall Of Famer Night Stalker to arrive.

[Kirsten Jade]

HORSE: My Man O' War
PEOPLE: Kirsten Jade
DATE: January 29 2014
PLACE: TW track

descendents
a whole new generation of talent and prestige.

Kirsten groaned as the black juvenile reared coming on to the track. She was prepared for the outburst and already had a good chunk of his mane in her hand. "That's enough you big brute." She didn't understand why it was such a fight with Mano every time they stepped on the track, whether it be at home or at the racing track. Once he started his warm ups he was always fine and ready to run. It was almost like he had to announce his presence before getting down to work. Well sorry buddy but no one really cares... She preferred for the colt to just just the world his talent, not his attitude.

She focused on getting the colt to settle down and into his warm ups. He settled quickly and eyed the other horses on the track. That's it... You'll get your chance to run... Kirsten smiled. She was actually quite pleased in the progress the Night Stalker son. Three months ago it would have been a struggle to even step near the brute. Now the trust was starting to wear him down. Of course, no one else can get near him except Kirsten and his main handler but baby steps...

Now Mano has destroyed the competition in two of his three starts and Kirsten was excited about his chances in the Finish Cup. Of course the competition will be death but the experience will be priceless. Kirsten was extremely worried about another descendent of Night Stalker - Saintly Touch. The Witch Creek Stable colt has won both of his starts this year and was winning with typical Night Stalker style. This would be the first time the two colts would face off and Kirsten had a feeling neither colt will forget each other. It might just be a never ending dual between them.

Speaking of Saintly Touch, Kirsten looked up to see her old friend Ripley Marsh herself upon the young speedball. Hmmm... This could get interesting...

Kirsten smirked and pointed her steed in that direction. The colts might just meet sooner than she thought...

[Ripley]

Saint's ears shot forward, alerting Ripley to the action taking place at the gap down the rail. His black trimmed ears were glued to the night black horse rearing, pawing the air like a demon from a cursed world. Ripley didn't need to look at the paper twice to know who this horse was. My Man O' War looked every bit as tough and fierce as he had the day he had crushed the field in his last race. Ripley had gained immense respect for the horse out of that race. He hadn't beaten a field of sissies. But he hadn't beaten Saintly Touch or Intrepid's toughest horse Ultimate Revenge, another horse Ripley was keeping a stern watch on.

She didn't pat Saint's neck in comfort. The seal brown colt vibrated with sudden emotion, anger, irritation, flat out dislike. She hadn't felt such a hot bed of emotion come from this colt before. Ever. He wasn't a kind horse, but he sure as heck didn't turn to instant hate. And it was hate. She felt it in the quick lash of his midnight black tail, felt it in the fury that emanated in heat from the colt's hide. Her colt knew when to dislike a member of the competition. Knowing his bloodlines, Ripley couldn't say she was surprised.

My Man O' War looked fantastic traveling over to them, his black coat shimmering in good health and condition. Saintly Touch's copper coin dappled rump echoed the good condition. The colt that traveled toward them moved with arrogance and contempt. Saintly Touch lifted his nose, eyes burning with contempt, muscles lined with arrogance. If Saint didn't have the brown at his muzzle and between his haunches, the pair could have been mirror images. The only difference, besides coloring, was My Man O' War was in position of finely sculpted head where Saintly Touch had a rather coarse one, thanks to his bloody fast dam.

Ripley waved a hand, nodding at Mano. "He sure is looking fun to ride today." Saint chomped on his bit, flicking his tail like a windshield wiper over his rump. He stepped into a jog, not wanting this opponent to get a glorified rest. His muscles slid smoothly beneath his hide, threatened a negative action if Mano wanted to take this to a bar brawl. Ripley wanted to cackle, delighted with Saint's reaction. Hate would turn into ferocity on the track. Mano was not going to have an easy time today or on race day.

[Kirsten Jade]

Kirsten approached cautiously and carefully. She could already feel the heat radiating from her mounts body. Mano was not happy. She slowed him to a jog so she could hear Ripley yell. She quickly wiped the sweat from her forehead and nodded. "He is always a monster to ride." The tension seeped through the air as thick as fog. Obviously the two horses could feel a vibe of hatred between them. How did they know they would be rivals? That hatred sure built fast...

She quickly looked over the competition. Now that she was finally close enough to see Night Stalker's forth foal of the year she was even more impressed. Stalker sure had left his mark on the track with this crop... The competition was going to be stiff from now on out. She shook her head, the triple crown would be deadly next year.

All of a sudden Mano whipped his head to the left - towards Saintly Touch. Kirsten quickly pulled his head back to the right, leaving one rein shorter than the other so that he couldn't lunge out again. White foam started to form in the side of his mouth. He was not happy. Kirsten didn't even need to look to her own left to see how Saintly Touch reacted. They needed to get their horses moving fast before they killed each other.

[Ripley]

Ripley didn't have to think twice before she realized that Saintly Touch was getting more revved up than he had ever been in his time with her. The seal brown colt tossed his head, roughly jerking the reins through Ripley's gloved hands. She gritted her teeth, caught the flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Saint had too apparently. Count on Saint's one good eye to come in handy. Ripley clung to the colt's back as he lifted into a rear straight from the jog. He clacked his teeth together, nearly twisting his body to get to the antagonistic My Man O' War. Ripley slammed the colt down, didn't bother to spare Kirsten a glance. They both knew how fired up the Night Stalker line could get. This line ran hot with danger.

The auburn-haired woman slapped her heels against Saint's side, sending him into a crazy fast gallop. It was clear that the only way to distract her particularly hot-blooded animal was by running him. Her eyes blurred as Saint hoofed it into the backstretch, black legs blurring beneath his thickening body. The Night Stalker colt promised to be big and strong when he was full grown, was much thicker than My Man O' War. But the other horse was a lither, fleeter horse. He could possibly be Saint's match made in hell.

Ripley glanced under her arm, eyes searching for Kirsten as the furlong poles whipped by alongside them. Her heart pounded with the adrenaline rush until she realized her muscled colt was finally settling into his magnificent cruising stride. She turned her attention to the front, spared a glance in Kirstens' direction. "How does a five furlong run sound to you?"

[Kirsten Jade]

Mano's ear flattened as Saintly Touch took off running on the rail. Kirsten held tight on the reins, knowing the young colt would explode beneath her. Sure enough Mano tried to grab the bit, when he realized he wasn't going to get it he stretched out his neck and tried to force the reins from his rider's hands. There was nothing that could stop the steel black colt from running and it was best to let him go with Kirsten on his back than to let him run wild and riderless across the track.

Kirsten gave him just enough rein to take off into a dead set gallop after his half brother. And gallop he did. He took off in a blur, his thundering hooves pounding against the hard dirt track. It wasn't long before Kirsten and Mano pulled even with the other black pair. Ripley was yelling in her direction but Kirsten had a hard time understanding the words above the heavy breathing of the two furious competitors.

Five furlongs... Kirsten was able to make out. She bit her lip and then attempted to yell back. "Five furlongs sounds great. Starting at the next pole. Let's try not to let them kill each other out there!" Kirsten honestly did not want to over run her colt so close to his big race on the weekend but five furlongs will be perfect for Mano to realize that this is the colt he will have to beat in the next race, or few races.

They were approaching their starting mark. Okay Mano get ready...

[Ripley]

Saintly Touch rolled over the earth, kicking back clumps of dirt and a wake of dust. He was the proverbial freight train out on this track. He relished it. The atmosphere and rival churned up his hot-blooded temper, made him want to bury this black colt who looked so familiarly like him. Saint was a fierce runner, but he knew when to be smart. He settled into his powerful stride, muscular body settling into a high cruising speed. He was like The Devil's Hourglass in his workouts, his half-sister. He was always on the lead or just off of the lead in his workouts, but in a race he was just as content to sit mid-pack saving all the ground and all the energy.

The seal brown colt allowed My Man O' War to catch up, eyeballing him with his only good eye. Ripley could feel the challenge sweep through the reins, knew this was going to be a bloody fast workout and that Saintly Touch was either going to ground his opponent to dust or do whatever it took to end on equal terms. Either way, that would bolster the colt's mental attitude going into The Wire Finish Cup Juvenile Dirt. Ripley eased her hands up the colt's neck as they barreled into the first furlong of the five furlong workout. Saintly Touch charged along, thunderous in his movement. He demanded the attention of the people lining the rails, as did the wild nature of his counterpart.

The colt swung into the turn, ears flattened into his wild, snake-like mane. He was not going to wait on My Man O' War. If this night black colt wanted to challenge him for this victory, he was going to have to come at him now. Ripley remained silent aboard the back of her charger, would do nothing else to provoke him. Saint was on his own, this was his battle to win or lose.

[Kirsten Jade]

Mano flattened his ears and reached out with his long stride. He was able to stretch out and become low to the ground as his hooves dug in for all he was worth. He was driven by fury, he was always driven by fury. This time his past hurts had vanished and in its place was a new challenge, a new hatred. The hatred for a horse that was his half brother. Whether these two colts somehow knew they were related or not there was obvious competition and immediate dislike between them.

The first furlong flew by and Kirsten kept a strong hold on the reins. Mano was going to hate this. He hated having another horse in front of him, especially a horse he dislikes so much. He was the type of horse that can either take a race running away - from wire to wire. Just like he did in the New Mexico Classic or stay just behind the leaders and challenging them until they were ready to break down and then he flew by with all the power and strength of a seasoned stallion.

Another furlong passed and Mano was on Saint's immediate right and just a neck behind. Both horses moved around the track with speed and experience. They definitely wouldn't look like two young juveniles out for a quick workout to an onlooker. These horses were in a class by themselves.

[Ripley]

Saintly Touch kicked on for home, deliberately shifting out to carry Mano wide. The seal brown colt's gaze was filled with fire, full of anger that this arrogant horse would challenge him. His body coiled and then released in one stunning punch as they headed up the homestretch, black tail soaring out behind him. Ripley was astonished by the brilliance of Saintly Touch. He had talent, but never before had he expressed it in such a manner. It was always a grinding speed, but not today. Today it was sheer power and speed.

She wrapped her hands in the colt's mane, ducked down to cut down the dangerous wind. She was not going to be taken off of the back of this storm. She glanced to her left, saw Mano come up to run eye to eye with her version of unfettered fury. Ripley let a small smile touch her lips as Saintly Touch bore down on the wire.

It drew ever closer: a furlong, yards, feet, inches. The black horse felt every inch of it, locked as he was in mortal combat with a fiercesome enemy. Ripley counted down the seconds, stunned speechless as she reached an astronomically small amount of time. Delight spread through her even as utter rage whipped through Saint, so displeased by the enemy still remaining at his side.

The near black horse roared through the wire, legs still reaching an even larger. Ripley stood immediately, slapping the colt's neck. She wasn't sure if she had won, hadn't really cared. But this workout had proven how fast her prized classic distance dirt two year old was. It proved that he was capable of running with the best, of being at the head of his relatively fresh two year old class. Ripley had to practically choke down the colt as he galloped back into the backstretch. She looked up, smiling, called to Kirsten, "And that is why I bred Night Stalker to The Devil's Touch."

[Kirsten Jade]

Faster and faster they went. Mano was bearing down on his competitor yet Kirsten still had his reins in check. He was going to be mad but Kirsten wanted him to lose today and make him strike back in his next race. She wanted to make him furious for a win so that he destroys in the Finish Cup. She was worried that with all the tough competitors in that race that Mano was going to lose and Mano was not a horse that liked to lose.

When he lost his one race he barreled back and won his next one by four lengths. No Mano was not a horse to take lightly.

They were approaching the wire. Mano stretched out for all he was worth but Kirsten did not let him switch gears. The colts were eye to eye at the finish. The Finish Cup was going to be one interesting race...