to rise

[S u N f r O s T ~]

JULY WEEK ONE
INFINITE WARCRY AND AMBER BLACK
CALL OF THE WILD AND KRYSTAL YHATE

Infinite Warcry represented the past, while Call of the Wild represented the future. The two SOPS turf routers were what SOPS prided themselves the most on creating. The turf had long since been the mainstay of the stable and these two horses were a product of the careful breeding and training that went into making such horses champions. Though despite their illustrious status as the carriers of tradition within the stable, both Call and Infini were not as well known. In Infini's case, his fall from stardom had occurred this year, as instead of racking up wins the huge stallion racked up close defeats. Call was simply a horse that not much had been seen of.

As the two horses made their way down to the track, one could have called them brothers. They both moved with long, powerful strides and were bulging with muscle. The only difference was that Infini was much larger. The black stallion had grown to his full height of seventeen and a half hands and sometimes seemed unable to decide what to do with all of that bulk. Amber looked down from where she sat in the four year old's saddle. It was definitely a long way down. Maybe that's what's been holding Infini up lately. So much of himself to move around it's hard to move at all she thought with a frown. Infini had not reached this height during his spectacular two and three year old seasons, but at four had been struggling to get to that wire first. His closing charges were always hairy, but he was missing more often these days.

Call of the Wild was a good natured colt Krystal was truly excited about. The bay juvenile had won three races so far and was entered in the July Juvenile Turf Faceoff next week. Hopefully it would be his grade four win and he would join the rest of the SOPS two year olds. He definitely had the talent and the bloodlines to do huge things on the turf surface, and he was their Turf Triple Crown hopeful for next year, alongside In The Spotlight. Krystal bit her lip. SOPS had not been having good Turf Triple Crown attempts since Witch Creek got back into the game and it really told on their morale. That would have to change. Call was the perfect blend of old and new bloodlines as well as the product of a carefully raced strategy and training style. He would continue to improve hopefully for the remainder of his career, never bottoming out.

Infini himself was hitting the big races now. The Full Moon Derby in two weeks, then the Dare To Dream Memorial followed by a one month rest prior to the Twilight Stakes at the Wire. That was the plan thus far, with a possible culmination of the season in the Turf Marathon or the Turf. Infini's second last week to Flawed Princess and Silent Fury really hurt Amber. She wanted Infini to improve. As such, she had stepped things up with the huge black horse. They now galloped three and a half to four miles daily. The big horse needed the conditioning, thrived on the longest distances possible. Amber had even concluded that the races offered just weren't long enough for the complete stamina monster. Infini spent the last half mile of whatever gallop he was doing in full flight. It was a way to teach him to accelerate more quickly, and it was also just great overall conditioning.

Call was limber and strong, but he wasn't up to Infini's conditioning level, being only two and everything. Thus, they were going to gallop one and a half miles before blazing through a half mile to make it two. Call would then gallop out for another half mile to make his gallop today equal two and a half miles, while Infini would keep going for another mile to round off his workout at three. The two stallions were at the Wire's turf course because it was serene and Amber thought they needed the change of pace, especially for Infini so he could focus on the Twilight Stakes over the course where it would be run. Call and Infini cantered side by side, the picture of calm and powerful turf horses. Their hooves were light as they touched down and lifted off, and both of their riders felt as though they could go for miles at this cantering pace.

Alas the canter melted away into the gallop. Call and Infini were both closers, so remained as sedate as ever as they began to gallop. Their long, powerful strides swept up the track in beautiful tandem. Amber wouldn't have been surprised if their strides were in tune with each other. She felt as though Call and Infini were tuned together, their souls nearly one. They had such similar mannerisms, and for sure she knew they had eons of talent hidden within. Heart pumping with sudden excitement, she lightly asked Infini for a bit more gallop. The black stallion willingly obliged, opening up his stride a bit more and sweeping up the track. Krystal lightly cued Call after them, and the smaller juvenile impressively kept pace with the grade one champion as they chomped on furlong after furlong of gallop.

The final half mile was upon them both. The time to sprint and blow it out. Infini was magical when it came to the closing charge, and Krystal knew this. She watched her boss carefully from the corner of her eye, but still missed the lightning quick cue Amber sent to her charge. Infini was gone in a flash. The black stallion roared into the faster gear faster than any horse should have been able to. He hunkered down and scooted away, the wind welcoming him as he embraced it in kind. Call was three lengths back in the span of one second. Krystal cursed and fired Call after the big black. It was nearly impossible to catch Infini once he got in front. It was practically over at that point in time. Yet Call came after Infini with all the heart in the world even as the gap between them grew. Call was just not yet at the level of Infini, but still he tried, his eyes blazing as fiercely as Krystal's as she hung on for the ride and felt so much pride in her beautiful bay colt.

The two horses flashed past the finishing line. Infini's gallop slowed as Amber took him back in. His thundering flight had startled some people on the rail, who took in and recognized the black thoroughbred who even now powerfully galloped out his final mile, looking as though he had never accelerated in the first place. Their eyes nearly missed the bay juvenile seven lengths behind him, bravely finishing and decelerating to his own cool down gallop for a half mile. The breath had quickened in Amber's and Krystal's lungs as they finished off this glorious workout. What majesty had been in Infini's flight and what bravery in Call's rebuttal. Nothing more needed to be said to these two rising stars. They had shown it all again out on the track.



JULY WEEK TWO
LIMITED EDITION AND VALENCIA ANDREWS
BATTLE WINGS AND KRYSTAL YHATE

Valencia stared into the eyes of the colt who had caught her heart from the moment she had seen him in the auction ring. Limited Edition, son of Gold Edition and Trust Limits, stared back just as intently, a certain light entering his eyes. He swished his tail innocently, and that was all the warning Valencia had before the chestnut suddenly poked his head forward, banging his nose into Valencia's face. Or at least it would have, if Valencia had not known what the colt was about to do. Valencia knew this horse like the back of her hand. She could read him like a book and had already gotten out of the way well before Ed made his attack. Ed snorted, his eyes dancing with glee. A worthwhile playmate. Valencia snorted and turned away to grab the chestnut's tack. They had a workout over the Wire dirt to get to.

Moments later they were out on the track. Ed snorted and pranced sideways. Valencia's leg caught in the track rail and she huffed before steering Ed away. That was the colt she knew and loved. Always trying to get under her skin, an absolute monster to ride until racetime. Ed's eyes gleamed as he took in the dirt track. His trot became more sprightly and powerful, his tone more professional and businesslike as he took to the dirt like a fish to water. Valencia posted comfortably with the colt's strides, a smirk on her face. Ed was something else. He was the epitome of masculinity and a seat of talent. The Humana Stakes awaited him in the next two weeks, and the Breeders Cup Juvenile at the end of the year. She was excited beyond belief to show Ed off to the world some more. Ed had reeled off four powerful victories in his career, including the Wire Finish Cup Juvenile Dirt, the Magic Millions Colts Dirt and the Follow The Hoofprints Dirt. His second in the Norfolk last time out had served as a bit of a learning experience. Ed would be ready to go in the Humana and Valencia was praying for victory.

The coldness of the filly beneath her did not deter Krystal's enthusiasm as she mounted up and rode Battle Wings out to the dirt track. The filly remained almost clinically detached and indifferent as she was ridden out. Her movements were deadly and graceful, and her gaze intimidating as she alighted on her chestnut stablemate and increased her pace to catch up. She was naturally competitive and sleek as a predator. At full height, she would stand at seventeen hands, towering over the chestnut colt she now approached. Battle reared her head high as she got closer, clearly displaying her dominance. Ed observed the bay filly with a trace of excitement in his eyes. They recognized each other from workouts, and Ed already knew what to do to get under this lady's skin. He trumpeted loudly and unnecessarily, following it up with a bunch of snorts. Krystal felt Battle tense with obvious annoyance. The filly hated noise, vastly preferring the silence that she epitomized. She glared at Ed now in a rare show of expressiveness before going mute and inexpressive again.

Krystal and Valencia exchanged smiles. The instructions had been written on the workout board clearly. These two horses were going to be top class milers even as they dabbled in the lower end of classics and the upper end of sprints. Battle herself had the Orchid Cup Fillies to prepare for, a seven furlong race. She needed a touch of speed today. Thus they were galloping a mile and sprinting a half mile before galloping out another half mile and then cantering for as long as their riders deemed fit. The time was here. Krystal and Valencia swung their thoroughbreds into canters along the rail and then picked up the gallop as they swept under the wire for the first time. Naturally dominant, Battle took the lead. She was the filly who was suicidal in the front. She would take that lead, play the crowd pleaser and attempt to keep it for the whole of the race. That was how she had won her four races, including the Follow The Hoofprints Dirt Mile.

Ed dropped back, teeming with professionalism as he let Battle have an uncontested lead. This was how he played his game. He liked to take his time picking off his competitors - no dramatic late moves from him! He tracked Battle into the first turn, chestnut legs flashing as he ran. He moved effortlessly, power in his eyes and in his stride. Valencia was absolutely motionless aboard him. The colt knew what he was doing. She was just there for the ride. Battle and Krystal streamed ahead of them three lengths in front, and she and Ed would just bide their time. His movements suggested he had plenty left in the tank and Valencia smirked. Battle and Krystal wouldn't know what hit them. Similarly, Battle and Krystal were moving easily in the front. Battle had great early speed and an amazing capability to keep going at it. Though perhaps ability shouldn't get confused with a deadly determination to stay in front at all costs.

The two juveniles soared through the mile quickly. As they passed under the wire again, Battle still three lengths in front, both riders eased them out into a faster gallop. Battle picked up the slack instantly, her bay legs blurring and fire burning from her eyes as she took off with a quick turn of foot. Ed had been zooming in on her butt for a while now, and as he was asked he exploded into his hunting gallop. He swept up the track in bold strides, chestnut legs like liquid fire as he took off after the bay juvenile filly. Two lengths, one length and he was drawing up alongside at last. His eyes gleamed as he sought the open ground free of Battle. Battle snorted and stretched out some more. She had the inside rail and used it as they curved into the backstretch to add a half length. Ed stretched out, determination rippling throughout his frame, and caught up again. The two were nose to nose as they obliterated the half mile workout set to them.

Easing down into the gallop out, the two remained side by side, eyes locked and strides locked. They didn't back down. That was not their way. Valencia and Krystal glanced at each other and grinned slyly. It was time for these two horses to rise and become all that they could be.


FLEET MAJESTY AND AMBER BLACK
Amber bolted upward in bed, a cold sweat covering her body. Her eyes roved around before settling on the alarm clock, which showed that it was four thirty am. Sighing, the head trainer of SOPS fell backwards and then stretched. That was some weird dream she had had...and she couldn't afford to fall prey to nightmares again, not now, not every again. Nodding, she got up and began to get ready for the day. There was only one horse on her mind. Fleet Majesty, her training lease from Witch Creek that was becoming more and more of a permanent resident at the barn, especially after her win in the Duchess Stakes. The gray filly was being sent out to do battle in the Joe Hirsch Turf Classic, a race Amber knew they were pretty outclassed in. But she trusted her instincts, and she felt that Mage had it in her to do well and benefit from the experience. A win was unlikely, but Mage had already exceeded expectations. Now she only had to grow.

The high energy gray filly danced beneath Amber as she was walked from the barn towards the Wire's turf track. Amber mounted up and set off on the energizer bunny, humming as she did so in time to Mage's steps. The filly danced forward, buzzing happily as she felt right at home here on the turf track. This was where she was meant to be. It was in her heart. Affection danced between the filly and Amber as they took to the turf at a sprightly trot and then rocking canter. Amber felt her worries about future campaigns disappear as she simply settled into the motion and remembered what it was like to ride relaxed. They were prepping for a major turf race, but she could still have fun right?

Their twin hunting instincts pricked as they made out a figure in the distance. Amber leaned close to the filly's neck and fed out some rein. Mage snorted and took it eagerly, eyes as bright as her rider's as they zeroed in on their target and began to stalk carefully. Mage extended her stride and flowed into the gallop, the transition seamless and beautiful. Filly and rider soared, cutting the corner closely and just flowing over the track. Each stride was sure and powerful and full of more. They had never been in better form, nor in better tune with each other. This three year old turf router was the stuff that Amber Black made into legends, and it was their time to rise. It would come. The three year old would face older and more seasoned competition as well as same age and classy, and she would give it her best shot as they had been all season.

Amber asked Mage to pick it up a bit as they ghosted through four furlongs of confident gallop. The true router always had more, and Mage was no exception as she widened her stride and sought more speed. Her mane blew back and her legs flew as the turf fell away behind them. Breathing regularly and easily, they pulled off a quick mile before Amber knew exactly what she wanted. She dropped her hands, flicked her fingers and leaned in. Mage knew what that meant. It meant run. It meant soar. It meant rise. And rise the filly did. The three year old accelerated rapidly, hungering for more speed, seeking it out and finding it. Her legs flew, her heart flew with it and Amber Black held on for the ride as they obliterated a quarter mile in twenty three and change. Fast and quick, nice and rapid. Amber grinned as she slowed the gray powerhouse down. Mage looked good as she galloped out, eyes gleaming with the same fire and each step glowing with confidence and potential.

It was time to rise.



JULY WEEK THREE
SIZZLING DAWN AND HENNA TURATH
SWEET INFERNO AND VALENCIA ANDREWS
This is the story of two underdog fillies whom the press and the racing public did not believe in. The intensity of them - their bravery, heart and sheer will to win in the face of odds against them - did not win over the public. Their records as juveniles were not impressive. The only thing to be admired about them was their consistency in placing in second or third. Not first. Yet these two fillies had gone to the Triple Crown. These two fillies had faced the top dirt horses in the three year old division - Nightshade, Born To Impress and Red Herring. The touted three from the Breeders Cup Juvenile. And what had happened? The long shots had come out on top against the supposed best in their division over the classic dirt. And were they recognized for their achievements, their rise to the top on the biggest stage, the Triple Crown itself? No.

Valencia Andrews felt herself sizzling as she mounted atop the black daughter of Crooked Fire and Sweet Stalker. Sweet Inferno pulled hard on the reins, eyes burning with muted fury as she sought to demolish something with her powerful hooves. This was the longest shot of them all. Only three wins as a two year old, and a fourth in the Breeders Cup Juvenile Fillies to round it off. Then a three year old season that had involved minor stakes races and some major preps for the Triple Tiara at her beloved Wire track. And then the surprise entry into the Belmont Stakes. The press had looked at the coil black filly rife with power, shook their heads and discounted her completely. They had called her a long shot, the horse with no chance against Nightshade, Red Herring and Born To Impress. But guess what Sweet Inferno had done? She had taken the Belmont Stakes and wired it, all twelve furlongs in front. What horse could say that? In Valencia's opinion, it was the greatest win in Belmont history. But then again, she had been the one in the irons, and Sweetie was her baby girl, so she could be biased. Who knows?

Henna Turath met the gaze of her furiously competitive and domineering filly. Sizzling Dawn, daughter of Barely A Moment and Flash At Dawn, from a damline now known for its gutsy fillies. That was Dawn from head to toe. The bay met Henna's gaze squarely, lifting her head and allowing the intensity that marked her presence to seep into Henna's pores. Henna breathed it in, sighed and smiled. This was the filly with the home field advantage who had similarly wired the Preakness Stakes. She had done it, with a home field advantage and nothing but gutsy heart on her side. And a determined jockey. The press had talked for weeks. How had Stride of Perfection Stables managed to enter two long shot fillies in the freaking Triple Crown and walked away with two wire to wire victories? How did that happen? Henna knew the answer. The training methods of Amber Black, the bond each horse had with their jockey and the repressed frustrations from the Turf Triple Crown.

But apparently these victories weren't enough to make the fillies great. Apparently the press needed more. And both Valencia and Henna knew what their responses to that were. I'll show you more than you imagined to see. Saddled up and now riding out to the Wire's dirt, they met each other's gaze and felt as though they understood each other. The two fillies met each other's gaze and felt a kinship of spirit. But they were racehorses, and they immediately covered it up with feelings of competitiveness. The women grinned and the horses purred like the revving of an engine beneath them as they accelerated down the dirt into a sweeping gallop. Sweetie and Dawn looked ridiculously good as they cantered on their home dirt track. Their sweeping strides covered ground quickly, and their total focus on the task at hand was impressive. They barely took notice of each other as they warmed up. After all, the time would come for all that.

Valencia and Henna could feel the burn of judging eyes on their backs. The clockers knew what they were seeing - the winners of the Preakness and Belmont Stakes working out together and looking good. But they hadn't seen repeat performances since. Just average. Valencia and Henna glanced at each other, leaned down and let the fillies into gallops. We'll show you average. The two transitioned beautifully and without hesitation attempted to wrest the lead from each other. They were both overpoweringly dominant and this drove them to be at the front at all times. Their eyes blazed with rage as they found a worthy competitor in each other, and in mutual truce they settled into a high cruising speed to wait for the cue to duke it out again. Smart fillies. Valencia smirked and Henna whistled. These were the horses they loved.

Their riders would be the first to admit that Dawn and Sweetie had both come out of their races exhausted. They had put everything they had into their races and the wins were by no means easy. Perhaps residual tiredness was dogging them down. Whatever the case, there were no signs of it now as the two just cruised along the dirt. Valencia grinned and from her position on the outside just scraped the paint at the turn. She was a real daredevil. Dawn lengthened her stride to stick with her stablemate and rival. The stretch greeted them, and by agreement it was time to duel again. Away they went, two blazing whirlwinds of orange and black striking forward in their battle for supremacy.

A blur under the wire and then a strong gallop out by both fillies, breathing hard not in tiredness but in rage. They glared at each other, Dawn snorting and Sweetie jerking her head in response to the challenge. They would not get their chance to face off in the Breeders Cup - Dawn was a likely candidate for the Distaff and Sweetie for the Marathon - but they got plenty of chances right here, working out together on the track they both loved.