Post by Deleted on May 3, 2013 19:10:40 GMT -5
An elegant black colt galloped over the dirt, his neck bowed as he pulled against his rider's hold on the reins. His hooves beat a steady rhythm as he rounded the turn. Sherlock felt the power underneath her as Animosity tried to quicken his pace.
"Not yet." She muttered to the colt, keeping her weight back as he tried to take off. He snorted as he continued to tug against the reins, wanting nothing more than to run as hard as he could.
As they came onto the back side of the track, Sherlock guided her mount down to the rail and let the reins out a notch. As soon as she dropped her hands, he took off like a shot, extending his stride and lowering himself to the ground, propelling himself across the track at an ever-quickening pace. It was all his rider could do to keep him from running off. As he passed the half-mile pole, Sherlock clicked the stopwatch she held in her hand.
Animosity came out of the turn and Sherlock, still keeping a firm hold on the horse, asked him to switch leads. He did so on cue, and took off with renewed energy, streaking toward the finish like a shadow in the early morning light. As they crossed the wire, Sherlock stopped the timer and stood up in the stirrups, asking the colt to slow.
Animosity did not comply, so Sherlock tightened her grip on the reins. With much difficulty, she slowed him to a more manageable pace and had him gallop out another half-mile before wrangling him down to a trot. Animosity shook his head irritably but allowed himself to slow. Only when she had the colt walking clockwise around the outside of the track did Sherlock take a moment to glance at her stopwatch.
:47.97 was the time on the digital display. Sherlock smiled. The time was perfect, and her colt was hardly blowing after the work. He was a handful the entire way back to the barn, tossing his head around and trying more than once to break off into a canter.
"How'd he go?" Vinnie asked as Sherlock dismounted.
"Forty-eight flat, easy as you please. I think he's in great shape." She replied, untacking the colt and hosing him down. "He's ready to go."
"Not yet." She muttered to the colt, keeping her weight back as he tried to take off. He snorted as he continued to tug against the reins, wanting nothing more than to run as hard as he could.
As they came onto the back side of the track, Sherlock guided her mount down to the rail and let the reins out a notch. As soon as she dropped her hands, he took off like a shot, extending his stride and lowering himself to the ground, propelling himself across the track at an ever-quickening pace. It was all his rider could do to keep him from running off. As he passed the half-mile pole, Sherlock clicked the stopwatch she held in her hand.
Animosity came out of the turn and Sherlock, still keeping a firm hold on the horse, asked him to switch leads. He did so on cue, and took off with renewed energy, streaking toward the finish like a shadow in the early morning light. As they crossed the wire, Sherlock stopped the timer and stood up in the stirrups, asking the colt to slow.
Animosity did not comply, so Sherlock tightened her grip on the reins. With much difficulty, she slowed him to a more manageable pace and had him gallop out another half-mile before wrangling him down to a trot. Animosity shook his head irritably but allowed himself to slow. Only when she had the colt walking clockwise around the outside of the track did Sherlock take a moment to glance at her stopwatch.
:47.97 was the time on the digital display. Sherlock smiled. The time was perfect, and her colt was hardly blowing after the work. He was a handful the entire way back to the barn, tossing his head around and trying more than once to break off into a canter.
"How'd he go?" Vinnie asked as Sherlock dismounted.
"Forty-eight flat, easy as you please. I think he's in great shape." She replied, untacking the colt and hosing him down. "He's ready to go."
