sweet battle

[S u N f r O s T ~]

SWEET INFERNO AND VALENCIA ANDREWS
BATTLE WINGS AND KRYSTAL YHATE

SWEETIE'S WORKOUT FOR SEASPRAY CUP
BATTLE'S WORKOUT FOR COACHING CLUB AMERICAN OAKS

Krystal could feel the fury still wafting off of her filly as she vaulted onto her back. It was time for the final leg of the Triple Tiara - the Coaching Club American Oaks. The Acorn Stakes winner had failed to bring the win home in the Mother Goose Stakes, but the odds had been against her from the start. All of those preceders and stalkers, flagging her down for the whole race? It was a testament to Battle's class that they had finished second. And now, the Coaching Club American Oaks - Reflected In Water and Restricted Access were the only horses between them and glory. Remi, who had taken the last leg, was a preceder. Oro was a midpacker. Thus, there would be less pressure on Battle this time around. But regardless of what circumstances there were...Battle was out for blood. Krystal could feel the heat, practically hear the sizzle that was Battle Wings as she flexed her muscles and strode intimidatingly out onto the track. It made her smile, made her feel slightly bloodthirsty. Oh boy did the competition have a furious horse coming at them. Battle had lost only twice this year, but both times afterwards she had been filled with this fury. And Krystal smirked as she considered what she knew that the rest of the world may not - Battle absolutely loved ten furlongs. The mile long Acorn Stakes had been the question, a question resoundingly answered. Ten furlongs was where Battle excelled and loved to be.

She had the build, indeed. Valencia glanced over Battle Wings as she rode up on her own temper tantrum mare Sweet Inferno and compared their builds. Battle was built classic - well muscled, strong, straight and true. Sweet Inferno had the marathoner look to her - slim legs, not as muscled, more about the lean endurance than speedy strength. Oh yes. If there was a ten furlong race, Battle would have had the advantage in the talent department. But take it any further, and Sweetie would be the victor. Not that the marathoner couldn't duke it out at nine furlongs if asked - but it was well known that she was perhaps the top marathoner prowling the tracks these days. Valencia felt the pride of such a title trickle through her veins. It had not come easily. They had had to work so hard for that title, and now Sweetie was grade one and rising. She was heading into the Seaspray cup in epic form...though no form really could compare to the one Battle had maintained since the Juvenile Fillies. Valencia glanced at the bay, saw the volcanic heat in her eyes and wished that a ride aboard the powerhouse could be hers for a day. Such fire was attractive...but Sweetie had her fair share as well, and she wouldn't exchange that for the world.

Valencia felt the inferno that was Sweetie's darker half expel from her body as they stepped foot onto the dirt. Sweetie's hooves sank into the sandy dirt, and she snorted once, at peace. Valencia settled into the irons, released the black mare with barely a thought and flew with her up the track. And Battle Wings did not miss a beat. The bay filly was a hot iron raring to be used to burn, to press until things were the way she wanted them. She galloped strongly at Sweetie's side, eyes burning as she found a horse that also loved the lead. And now it was TRULY on, for Battle did not like to have her dominance challenged. She accelerated, hanging onto the lead by the barest of noses even as Sweetie responded and pushed her faster. It was a battle of wills from the start - but this was how Battle raced. She would always try to hold on, holding nothing in reserve. It was her greatest weakness, and her greatest strength. Weak, because she would eventually fall. Strength, because she would never give up, and was full of heart.

Sweetie finally backed off. She had the intelligence not to go too far. Battle finally settled, her pace sizzling in the lead as she claimed it for herself. Krystal shook her head, marveling at the filly. She had definitely gotten better at carrying a fast speed over distance. It had always been a strength of the Akuma Battlecry daughter. And now they hit the six furlong marker, then the seven. Krystal glanced at Valencia, saw a warning in her eyes, in the black form of Sweetie keeping pace with them on the inside. She accepted the challenge that was in that warning, her smirk widening as she released the reins...and let her dragon fly. Battle Wings stormed around the turn, sudden black power rolling out of her form as she hit the stretch and did not back down even then. She was bounding away, strides quick as her eyes blazed. She would not accept defeat. But Sweetie responded, eyes burning with the inferno part of her name as she dug in and willed her body faster. Black legs blurred, blitzing after the storming Battle. One furlong before the wire, and Sweetie was bulldogging it as she always did on the lead. As all distance front runners did.

They approached and flashed under, Battle holding on by a stubborn half length. All knew that had the race extended to twelve furlongs, the circumstances would have been different. As it was, Battle had triumphed at this mile distance. Valencia smiled, slapped a high five with Krystal and conceded her defeat for now. But all knew that a rematch was waiting in the wings.