Post by S u N f r O s T ~ on Aug 17, 2012 11:18:25 GMT -5
SWEET INFERNO AND HENNA TURATH
SWEETIE'S FIRST WIRE FINISH CUP JUVENILE DIRT PREP
This was the track where it had all started. It was here that she had broken her maiden in the fourth weekend of January. After that she had returned to her seconditus streak. It was like she couldn't shake it from herself. Nonetheless, her seconds had been impressive and she was back at the track where it had started. She was undefeated over this strip and she was going to the Wire Finish Cup Juvenile Dirt to prove her greatness in an extremely tough field full of talented runners looking to take her down. Henna frowned for a little bit at just the thought of who her competition was came rushing back. Italian Ice was Impressario's other filly and she had been proving herself lately. With a win, a place and a third against an older horse field being most recent, she would be a tough cookie to crack. And then there was A Royal Legacy, a King foal who had so far not been too successful but was on the rise.
Henna's only concern with her competition, though, was keeping Sweetie ahead of them. The filly was a front runner who ran as fast as she needed to in order to maintain her lead. Of course, that did mean sometimes having to go to great lengths, but Sweetie knew not to lose her head. They were too good for that. Instead, they would run like they knew they could run and see where the race would take them. But first, they needed to have a workout. Sweetie had been galloped over this dirt track before, so it was with familiar feeling that she took to it now. Nostrils flaring, she stepped onto the track almost daintily and then relaxed in the open space. It was one of her weird characteristics. She had a tendency to be antsy and hard to control off of the track, but on it she became a complete angel.
The weather today was bright and sunny. Ordinarily this would mean the racehorse would be happy - but Sweetie was different. The blood of Night Stalker ran in her veins. She craved the darkness, the nighttime blackness. Sunlight was no true friend to her. Even so, the filly was still happy as she sidestepped just a little bit on the dirt. Her eyes rolled around once and her nostrils flared in a sudden snort. Henna collected the reins and then sent Sweetie forward. She saw Amber from the corner of her eye and knew that she was likely going to be timed for the workout. Sweetie was rested. She would run at least two miles before breezing through six furlongs. The longer workout would aid her stamina. She was a front running horse in distance races. More stamina would only help her.
The canter of this black filly was smooth and graceful. Her hooves touched down with sudden force before lifting off again. She felt like a well oiled machine and Henna knew that all she'd have to do was move her fingers in order to let Sweetie fly. She was tough, beating those older horses to place second last time out, and she was rested. Her advantage was the maturity that had rubbed off on her from that experience and the new sharpness she had from a week off. Her movements crisp, Henna let her take her own stride down the track. They would continue to canter for a mile, gallop the mile afterwards and then go a bit faster. Muscle fibers loosening, Sweetie's stride approached light grace as time flew by.
The pair finished their first lap and started on their second. Now Sweetie was beginning to get a bit headstrong. She pulled eagerly at the reins now, seeking some more speed, and found some when Henna eased her out into the gallop and rose a bit in the irons. Now they were beginning to go and Sweetie instantly settled down into a cruising pace. She had an average cruising speed, one that could be manipulated to fit any circumstance. In a lone workout like this, a simple run was all that was needed, and Henna barely had to work to get her to the correct pace. Rating her carefully, she narrowed her eyes as the wind whipped through them, trying to keep any sudden tears from obscuring her vision.
Now the final part of their workout arrived. Breathing steadily, Henna eased her mount out even more and smiled at the sudden uptake of speed. Sweetie had been ready for her and she let the wind sing as they easily went faster for six furlongs. Henna could practically hear the stopwatch ticking in her ear but was not bothered by the thought of their time. They were getting a good run in and she didn't need time to know that they were running well enough for Amber Black. She carefully watched the poles to make sure she didn't lose track of that time, and when the last furlong of their breeze ended she pulled Sweetie up. The black slowed reluctantly, sides heaving just a bit, sweat running down her body. But the look in her eyes demanded more, and she snorted at the thought of not getting it.
The filly had a calm side to her out here, especially on this track, where she loved to race. Henna stroked her as she rode her off, and as she left the track the hellion returned. But that was Sweetie. Sweet on, hot headed off. An enigma of a racehorse with a world of speed.
