Post by Ripley on Jan 19, 2016 11:08:16 GMT -5
THREATENING STORM
Featuring.
Pele's Wrath and Luna de Soltera.
A low rumble of thunder echoed not far off in the distance and reminded Malcolm just how crazy Ripley Marsh tended to be. It was one in the afternoon and the trainer was only just now starting a workout set. The sky was a mixture of black clouds with gold edges and all of these signs pointed toward a very, very dangerous storm. Yet, here he stood watching Brookson Wells manhandle Pele's Wrath and Maggie turn Luna de Soltera in several circles.
Both fillies were as edgy as can be. Pele's dark hide twitched with every rumble and Luna's hide grew gradually more spotted with every fat rain drop that fell from the sky. Maggie and Brookson wore wind jackets and goggles, but both were happy that this was taking place during the spring and not the dead of winter. Still, when the wind got to whipping, Malcolm was wishing he'd worn a thicker jacket. He glanced Ripley's way and shook his head in disbelief.
The woman stood with her head lifted tall and proud, her red hair blowing back behind her shoulders. Her cheeks were red from the wind, but otherwise, she looked as if she were enjoying a nice summer day. When the thunder rolled again, Ripley didn't even flinch. She lifted her radio to her face and spoke into it quickly.
If he hadn't been watching the riders, he would never notice their nods of ascent. Luna and Pele both whirled on their hooves, as reactive and nervy as ever. Maggie brushed a hand down Luna's dark gray neck, but Brookson just comforted Pele by urging her onward. The best way to work with Pele was to keep her mind busy and focused on the task at hand. The near black daughter of Ashes To Ashes powered beneath him like a locomotive, every stride long and fueled by a rolling dark energy.
Luna was quick to assume the lead into the half-mile run up to the four furlong pole. She was only a few inches shorter than Pele, but she sure didn't seem to care. She made a point to keep ahead of her stable rival, pinning her ears and daring the filly to run with her. Maggie perched high on the grey's back, her heels way down and her hands braced to hold the Solitary Voyage daughter back. She was a little brute, but she settled down after the first hundred yards. Her delicate legs flashed beneath her body and her mane and tail flew backward. Like the storm growing ever closer, Luna had a bit of wildness to her.
Pele was the only filly that could match her. The sleek horse had settled back by now, a full length off of her quicker stablemate. Her strides were perfection and she loped along with her ears pricked. She didn't even look like she was trying. Compared to the runaway filly that Brooks had ridden to consecutive second place finishes in January, Pele was already much more mature. While on the bit, she didn't press hard and she didn't demand release. Instead, she stalked beautifully even though it was more in her nature to settle back in the pack. That versatility made her a potent runner. Luna was her pack and despite the quicker pace, Pele kept up with the fleet filly without any effort at all. She was far more like her sire than he had ever expected her to be.
Luna breezed through the gallop and led the way into the four furlong run. Maggie didn't even have to chirp at her. Already a consummate pro, Luna flashed into another gear, stretched her body out and assumed a three length lead in the blink of an eye. Luna was the best corvette money could buy. She blew a hole in the wind. Maggie peeked under her arm to see Brooks shaking Pele up to keep up. The dark filly unwound her stride, flicking those big ears above her head. By the time Maggie turned back around, Pele was breathing down Luna's barrel into the far turn.
Luna set sail for home, eyes dark with determination and fury when Pele roared up to her outside. Luna was no hot house flower despite her minute looks. She toughed out a nose lead and then a head and then a neck. No longer was Pele going easy. She was just as angry and spurned. The duo surged for the wire in an all out drive for the wire.
Ripley swore she heard a whistle right behind her ear as the team hit wire in full flight. She swung around, expecting to see someone behind her, but no one was there. Her hair stood up on her arms when Malcolm met her gaze with a shock and wariness in his own from way down the fence line. Had he heard that as well? She shrugged off the odd feeling as a rumble of thunder crashed ever closer as the black and gray horses galloped impressively into their fifth and sixth furlongs.
She glanced down at her watch and saw that it had stopped at the very moment her fillies hit the wire, even though she hadn't been the one to hit the timer. A chill zipped down her spinal cord from the coincidence and the time. :59 flat on Battle Brook's track was eerily good. She glanced up at the excitable duo in wonderment. While their careers had been otherwise consistent, neither of them had shown this kind of blazing effort before. All signs pointed toward them only getting better with each experience. Watching the sleek fillies now, Ripley had a sudden thought that these two were going to be her best dirt fillies since El Sol Del Mar.
