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[S u N f r O s T ~]

UMBRA
Ventura & Amber Black - Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Sprint
Sweet Inferno & Valencia Andrews - Breeders Cup Marathon
the area of total darkness in the shadow caused by an eclipse

They stood on a precipice and looked forward to a year that would either be a massive disappointment or an amazing success. Amber Black wondered at how far the horse she rode had come. The first daughter of Impressario, the first horse she got to ride by her beloved sire, as well as a temperamental daughter of Rising Fury...and she was a sprinter in disguise. Bred for the classic distances, but a true relisher of six and seven furlongs. It was most unusual and strange, but Amber had settled for not questioning it. Ventura was perhaps the third best dirt sprinter on the tracks right now, behind Forbidden To Fly and Mastermind. And with the sprinting giants of the last generation retiring - all except Ven - they would be the only massive sprinting name on the tracks. It was as exciting as it was thrilling, and Amber personally couldn’t wait. But as always, they had a job to do.

They were back to defend their title in the Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Sprint. Ventura had won the race last year in a searingly impressive fashion. Open lengths had separated her from the rest of the field, and the win had been easily made. Though the mare had been overshadowed this season, she still stood at a searingly impressive twenty-eight career victories. Though she had excelled perhaps the most at a mile this season, she was returning to her favored sprinting distances for the Breeders Cup. They would face off against a horde of others, but it was safe to say that Ventura would be one of the favorites on race day, and as returning champion. Amber looked forward to the speed of the race and the thrill of perhaps winning again. Ventura had won last time out in the Caracortado Stakes and was coming into this race hot. Even now, she felt like livewire, a powerhouse with speed just waiting to be used. Amber smiled and welcomed the feel of it as they warmed up over the Wire dirt.

They were shortly joined by Sweet Inferno and Valencia Andrews. Sweetie had perhaps never truly fit in among the stables of SOPS. They had only managed to bring her limited success - however, it had been enough to crown Sweetie one of the top underdogs of Year Thirteen. The filly had stolen the Belmont Stakes and the Climax Cup despite impossible odds, proving a strong affinity for the twelve furlong distance. She had ended last season third in the Breeders Cup Marathon...and now she was returning for another try. The mare would be leased out for her final season on the track, so this was it. The last time Sweetie would get ridden for SOPS. The thought did not make Valencia sad, only excited. Now she would get to race against her own mare and experience the mare’s class as a competitor, not as an ally.

The most powerful thing about Sweetie was her competitive spirit, while for Ven it was her willpower. The clash of these two things would prove to make it a very interesting workout. Both mares had been pretty overshadowed during Year Fourteen, but they were full of absolute class regardless. Their records did not speak for their accomplishments and their speed. Their form coming into race day would be great. Sweet Inferno perhaps faced the tougher task in the Marathon, but if any horse was likely to win a twelve furlong race with impossible odds while on the lead the whole time it would be Sweetie. She excelled at impossible situations. As for Ven...she simply excelled at speed. Valencia sent a smirk at Amber, reflecting the competitive neigh Sweetie sent at Ven. Ven remained icy cold, the hot temper of her dam barely reigned in by her rider. A good workout would get them both moving and happy...well, satisfied, considering the temper of these two mares.

Lean Sweet Inferno took the initiative going into the first turn, slipping in front of Ventura almost demandingly and feasting on the lead. The mare took off once she had it, slipping into her high cruising speed that was the epitome of efficiency. It was part of why she was such a good marathoner. Ventura snorted and settled down on her outside, a length back in second. The perfect distance to press and press until it was time for her to inherit the lead. Sweetie snorted, not intimidated at all by her presence. So many horses had tried this tactic. Sweetie simply had too much stamina to really be affected by it.

They swept through four furlongs in forty seven flat, going easy. It was beautiful. Sweetie was nowhere near winded and Ven was full of speed. Amber smirked and eased Ven out slightly. The black mare took up the slack with deadly determination, edging up on Sweetie. The other black horse responded with a spurt of sudden, easy speed. The former lead margin was restored, but the pace was much faster. They swept into six furlongs, and then it was finally the two furlong straight to the wire. Amber asked and Ventura responded indignantly, her body slinking low to the ground as she exploded with speed. This was a mare that had won at the classic distances before; though she was a sprinter now, her stamina only augmented her abilities instead of hindering it. Sweet Inferno snorted and went stride for stride with the mare. She would not be outdone by her flashy speed.

One furlong from the wire, and the sprinter Ventura proved she had a bit more speed than Sweetie. She swept in front of Sweetie to lead by two lengths at the wire. Sweetie snorted, her competitive fire flaring and teeth bared in annoyance. Had the race been longer, this would have been her victory. Valencia nodded, understanding her mare, and slapped her on the neck when she attempted to bolt forward and score a bite on the mare. That would be the temperament of grandsire Night Stalker showing. Valencia loved the attitude, but Amber wouldn’t appreciate the savaging of her mare. Amber glared at Valencia, but couldn’t help the smile that eventually beamed from her face. They’re ready to step out of shadows and prove themselves she said softly. And I can’t wait. Valencia smirked in agreement. Indeed, these two were ready to go.