Post by Cavallo on May 9, 2013 21:00:27 GMT -5
Nightshade & Michael Landing
Prep for Kentucky Derby
They weren't dead. They hadn't disappeared and Michael wasn't worried. Well. That was a lie.With twenty one races to her name, Atropa wasn't a baby anymore. She was a mature three-year old and the four month conditioning had worked wonders for her. Some thought Nick had been bonkers to take her from the public tracks, but that didn't mean she hadn't been working back on the home turf. Michael had snuck the black filly onto public tracks when Nick had been busy and the black hellion was still as sharp as a tack and had an even greater edge that was now being matched with her growing maturity.
Nick had scoped the competition of the big race, the goal that Nick had bred this filly for...the Kentucky Derby and the rest of the Triple Crown Series. A filly had never taken it before and Nick had a sneaky suspicion that if there was a filly who could do it....it would be Nightshade. The rest of the competition had just now caught up to Atropa's level of experience, except for one thing. None of them were as rested and prepared for this debut as Nightshade was.
The constant schooling with Reve, Comeuppance, and the top class boys in the barn had sharpened this minx's skills beyond what Nick could have hoped for and she was always hungry for more. Everyone knew that this wasn't a filly who was going to be siting around in her stall and the competition should have known that; she is going to hit hard and fast and be all the more eager for it.
Michael led the dancing black bay filly out of the tacking area and into the afternoon sun. Atropa tossed her head exuberantly in the sun, her eyes gleaming with that all to familiar fire and eagerness. Her body rippled with toned muscle and definition. The four months of maturation and prep and hard work were now finally paying off as Michael looked at the defined fruit of their labor. Nick walked up from the barn and slapped the filly's behind and she spun on a dime snorting. Michael handled the filly well and she snorted at Nick with a disdainful flick of her ears.
Nick could only chuckle. This was the spirit that he had bred and cultivated. A firecracker that wouldn't take no for an answer off and on the tracks. Well Michael. We find out tomorrow if I was either an idiot or a genius. He rubbed the filly's neck and looked at Michael as he mounted up. Nick. I personally think you're a lunatic, but looking at Atropa now...I don't know how I can hold it against you. She ran a hard two year old season and I think you were wise to pull her. She could have broke down at the rate we were going. The public though now knows her name and she's had the time she's needed to mature. Michael settled into his seat as Atropa shifted slightly under the added weight. Nick held the filly and nodded at Michael.
They had taken a huge gamble, but Nick couldn't argue with the filly that was now standing before him. This was no baby anymore. Well, Let's take her out and run her. Let her have some fun out there, because tomorrow she'd gonna go into that competitive zone. Nick paused and grabbed Michael's reins before he took his charge out to the track. Oh and I forgot to mention...some press is going to be there. I let them come onto the campus. They're going to be swarming tomorrow and I don't want that to throw Atropa off her game. Michael grimaced. You know...that's one thing I haven't missed from the tracks....the press.
Nick chuckled as Michael pressed Atropa into a fluid trot down to the track. The clicks and the buzz of photographers and press people climbed from a whisper to a roar as the black bay filly came into view. This filly had cleaned house in Y12 and then went silent at the outset of Y13....there were a lot of questions that the public had. Some had thought that IR had left the game altogether, that there had been financial issues...but Nick and the staff knew that were just times, that as a stable you needed to step back and get your house in order....and that didn't mean they weren't working in their off time and as Atropa stepped into the scene a now fully matured three year old...well the proof was in the pudding.
Michael waved off the press,declining to speak at the moment and rode the filly through the crowd into the gap of the track. Her ears had been pinned at the press in annoyance, but she'd minded herself well enough and as soon as her daggers kissed the dirt track, she seemed to relax all the more. This was her element..her zone.
Michael clucked to her and the dark form responded with a sense of urgency. She knew the drill. Warmup and then run. She couldn't wait to run. Her three-beat gait was fluid and powerful, but still relaxed. Michael couldn't help, but be amazed at the filly Atropa was becoming....and now here they were on the eve of their dreams and one win away from becoming a grade one. The thoughts were just almost too tantalizing to even dare to hope for. The competition was going to put up a fight, but Michael knew that Atropa was more than ready for this race. The hunger in her eyes was never satisfied and tomorrow she would be hungrier than the racing world had ever seen her.
He took the filly at a good clip for three furlongs and then gave her the go. The press leaned heavily against the rails as Nick watched in the back with his stopwatch. He clicked it as the black form streaked into action at the fourth pole.Her flying lead change was breathtaking as she settled into a moderate gallop. He heard the reporters whispering in front...."well that's not as impressive..."...."maybe she's just lost that fire.."..."this isn;t the same horse now..." Nick's teeth ground in his jaw. Of course this wasn't the same horse. She was better, more cunning and not flying by the seat of her pants. The juvenile Nightsahde was all fight and power and sometimes to her downfall...reactionary, but now they were playing a new game...and good things came to those who wait.
Michael sat in the saddle and felt the oceans of untapped power, she tugged slightly at the bit, as if asking if it was okay for more, but Micahel held her back. Depending on who was setting the pace tomorrow...it could go either fast right out of the gate, which he was more than confident Atropa could handle, or slower out of the gate...and it was those slower paces that could bite Atropa in the butt. Those kind of races took patience. Patience wasn't a part of Atropa's nature and they had been instilling this trait since January within her....and to some extent they had succeeded, but she was still just as much the spitfire she was bred to be. It was a lethal behavior to train into this filly....to know when to wait and when to charge for the kill and she was on that precipice.
At the seventh furlong pole, Michael released the tension on the reins and Atropa didn't hesitate a beat. There was the rush of whirling wind as Michael held on for his life. There was confidence and prescion in every stride as her eyes locked onto the finish. She didn't need competition to push her to her best...no. Her greatest competitor now was herself. Charging down the lane, eyes on the prize Micahel knew they were going to be okay tomorrow...
This was a pair that wasn't to go down without giving the competition the fight of their lives and they would keep fighting till their last breath and they weren't dead yet.
Nick clicked the stopwatch as Atropa crossed the ten furlong pole. Two minutes on the dot flashed and Nick smiled. This was the ideal time and most had been made up in her closing. Her closing style had never been more stronger. The press whispered and some looked on with an impressed eye. Nick smirked as he walked away, letting them eat their own words. Nightshade was ready and he knew she and Michael would give their best tomorrow and that would be enough for him, no matter what the outcome...though he personally was pulling for a first place finish.
