fireball

[S u N f r O s T ~]

FIREBALL
Battle Wings & Krystal Yhate - Breeders Cup Dirt Mile
extremely bright meteor; can be several times brighter than the full moon, some are accompanied by sonic booms

Krystal Yhate reflected on how far this particular horse had come as they rode out onto the dirt track. Limited Edition and Fleet Street had just been out here, and now the press knew that Stride Of Perfection was taking their horses to the tracks for Breeders Cup workouts. A throng had gathered, and keen eyes sought out the black-haired Amber Black. Krystal grinned, Breeders Cup excitement welling up inside her. She loved taking her mounts out to the track to prove how great they were against the industry’s best. While there was a tinge of sadness to every Breeders Cup as their stars made their final starts, there was also a lot of satisfaction as horses soared to victories long in coming and etched their names firmly on the tablet of history.

Victory could be in the cards for this horse, or it would have been had one horse in the field not been there. Krystal frowned as she thought of Mastermind, the probable favorite and, in all honesty, the likely winner of the Breeders Cup Dirt Mile. The horse had worked like an otherworldly creature the other day. Battle Wings would have to race like a legend in order to win this race. The three year old filly was good, perhaps even extraordinary, but she was no Mastermind just yet. She would have her hooves full with the remainder of the field anyway - Reflected In Water and Mainspring would not be easy competition. Krystal felt determination roar through her veins. Battle Wings had been a Breeders Cup champion already, winning the Juvenile Fillies of last year in impressive fashion and cementing herself as the favorite for the Triple Tiara. And she had not disappointed, only missing in the second leg. She might not have been coming into this Breeders Cup off of as large of a drought, but the desire had been there all season, and a Dirt Mile win was the perfect way to cap it off.

The Dirt Mile was perhaps even in this filly’s blood. Her dam had won this race, after all. And Battle was good at a mile. She’d won four of seven attempts at this distance and beaten the best at this distance before. She counted the Acorn Stakes, The Natural Memorial Stakes and the Cigar Red Mile among her mile victories. Perhaps her most impressive had been in the memorial stakes - the field had been stacked and massive, yet victory had still come to this filly. She was talented and Krystal wanted the world to know it. And her last start had fired the cold mare up - fourth in the Palm Tree Paradise Invitational simply wasn’t good enough. Cold professionalism, icy confidence flowed off the filly like a river moving too fast to be frozen. Krystal soaked up her mount’s attitude and smirked.

One month off, filled with rest and stiff workouts, had given the filly amazing conditioning for her Breeders Cup appearance. She was fresh and full of run, and all that was left was a stiff workout. Battle Wings loved to work out, and Krystal found that fast workouts after losses were the best way to get her prepped for a win next time out. Battle Wings would bounce back and return to her winning ways, that or at least give the winner a massive scare. Krystal shook her head, banishing thoughts of glory, and leaned forward. She let the filly fly. Battle Wings accelerated smoothly and professionally, but the speed was anything but calm. It was furiously fast, like lightning, and Battle streamed to the inside to cut the first turn sharply. The wind whipped through Krystal and made her feel ice cold, but the roaring fire in her filly could not be quelled.

Battle Wings made everything easy. She was the picture of effortlessness as she whirled into the backstretch, yet the times should not be the ones run when not trying. But Battle was not a grade one three year old for nothing. Thirteen wins proved that she knew what she was doing. She accelerated even more in the backstretch, swallowing up each following furlong with somewhat faster speed. Krystal was not doing anything, just letting the filly run, but she mentally calculated times in her head. It was exactly what she wanted. And Battle had even more. She was a front runner by style, so a high cruising speed was expected with even more gas in the tank waiting. Krystal narrowed her eyes as they approached the final turn. Battle could give her more if she asked. But should she ask?

The answer came as the wind blew, and Battle Wings decided to throw down the gauntlet and race it to the wire. Ears pinned, the daughter of Akuma Battlecry exploded as though she’d been standing still. Krystal smiled as the filly went impossibly faster, thundering now into the stretch. Of course she would want to go even faster, of course she would - she was a racehorse, after all. Krystal didn’t bother to keep track of how fast they ran the final furlong - she would let the faces of the handicappers answer that question for her. Instead, she became focused entirely on her mount, the way her muscles smoothly worked to propel the tall bay forward, eating up ground impossibly fast.

They blurred past the wire and slowed, a gradual decline in speed that hardly seemed to be happening. Battle Wings maintained her expressionless facade as they slowed, though she did toss her head once as the world stopped moving so fast around her and instead became normal. Krystal grinned, slapped the filly’s neck once and thought forward to the race. They would almost surely not be alone on the front end the whole time around the track, but if they were met with a challenge they would be ready to face it.