Post by S u N f r O s T ~ on Feb 21, 2015 10:11:48 GMT -5
FLEET STREET AND MEREDITH MAHON
ITALIAN ICE AND VALENCIA ANDREWS
ICEE'S DAWN TREADER CUP WORKOUT
It was like Amber Black knew how to personally torment her. Meredith Mahon had taken one glance at the workout board and gone off into a surge of vile curses that had ears pricking all over the barn, and not just equine ears. Krystal Yhate had stuck a head out of a stall up the aisle - Meredith was willing to bet her ass it was Impressionable's - to cast an inquiring glance her way that she furiously ignored. Henna Turath had done the same from Athena's stall, but in her case she had just looked up the aisle and left the barn, leading out her black filly behind her for a workout. And Amber Black...Meredith could have sworn that she was cackling, wherever she was, knowing the trouble she was putting her newest apprentice jockey through. But even Amber had no idea of what this was...nobody knew what it was like for Meredith when she was in close contact with Valencia Andrews. And speak of the devil herself...there she was, strolling down the aisle like she owned the place, swaggering her way to the workout board with a sly wriggle of her eyebrows and seductive smile sent her way. Meredith shivered, stepping away as Valencia leaned into her personal bubble in an "effort" to look at the board. Her eyes widened with surprised pleasure, and she smirked at Meredith. Look at that...a racetrack, all to ourselves this morning. Her smooth voice was enough to send Meredith into a fit of rage, but she reigned it in. Instead, she made no reply, whirling on her heel to stalk up the aisle and get her own mount ready. Valencia watched her go, eyes bright with amusement, thoughts teeming.
Meredith felt as though Fleet Street picked up on her frustrations but used it to further his own. Two starts on the season in ridiculously tough fields had led to a fourth place finish to start that had improved to third in the next race. And now he would face limited Horse of the Year selection race fields, first in the Grande Derby and then in the Hiolio. It was doubtful the colt would be ready to take on the Triple Crown...but time would tell, and astronomical improvements were not unheard of in horse racing. Meredith would try her hardest to get Fleet to the level he needed to be at, Valencia Andrews be damned. At least they would be facing a true champion over both of the Wire's tracks today. Italian Ice was at a level most horses did not dream of...and among the SOPS crew, she was one of the most versatile champions they had ever raced, and among the best to grace the Wire's tracks. Fleet would have his work cut out for him over this mile test today.
Valencia Andrews frowned as she pondered that most puzzling of mysteries, Meredith Mahon. The woman was just an issue...acceptance was a natural part of life, but rejection seemed to be more natural to the honey-haired woman. Valencia smiled, thoughts disrupted as Italian Ice whinnied. The arrogant five year old made her will be known, eyeing the outside of the barn through a window and clearly wishing to get going. Icee loved her Wire track, yearned to run over it. Valencia was hardly one to deny her beauty that opportunity. It was time to rock and roll. She led her out, shading her eyes against a sudden burst of sun. Icee soaked it all in to her black coat. The mare had had nearly a month and a half off since the Breeders Cup. She would be making her first start back in the Spring Dawn Treader Cup. Icee had the veteran's experience that didn't require any proving, and she never seemed to lose her sharpness. Others needed races to develop it; Icee simply needed competitive workouts to maintain her edge.
This was a mare that owned this track. They were out warming up and gazes were attracted to them immediately. This was Italian Ice. She had won two Wire Finish Cup races - the Juvenile Dirt and the Dirt. She had won the Canadian Triple Crown. She had won the Autumn Dawn Treader Cup. Indeed, Italian Ice was perhaps a future Wire Legend, or at the very least Champion. She would be a Legend if she pulled off what Valencia had planned - all the Dawn Treader Cups, plus another Wire Finish Cup race. They would work hard and hope the cards were dealt favorably. Eyes narrowing, Icee stepped it up a notch as Fleet Street shadowed her, the gracefully strong son of Night Stalker and Fleet Goddess moving with liquid class at their outside. Italian Ice recognized competition and squared up like a pro, strong as ever despite the pressure. Fleet Street refused to be intimidated, sticking to her side as they moved together into the first part of the workout. The older mare was a tough foe - Fleet had the instincts to recognize that - but he also had a ton of heart, and would not back down from a fight.
They remained side by side for a furlong...and then the gauntlet was thrown down and the real race actually began. Icee swept away with sudden speed, leaving Fleet slightly stunned. With a quicker recovery then Meredith would have thought possible, the black colt gathered himself and lunged in pursuit. Icee was all class as she poured on effortless speed in the lead. Fleet was just not up this level...Meredith's brows furrowed and she called on her colt for more speed, pushing it. The Night Stalker son dug down and gave it - he didn't like being defeated either, and would not take this sitting down. He drew up just behind Icee and settled comfortably. The Impressario daughter was blitzing on the lead comfortably and Valencia Andrews was probably cackling. Actually...no, she was cackling. Meredith's ears pricked like a bloodhound on the scent. The expression on her face turned absolutely murderous as they crackled through the half in a forced forty seven flat.
How dare Valencia laugh at her and her horse. How dare Valencia perceive herself to be the dominant one here.
How dare Valencia be so freaking confusing.
Furlong five, and Meredith was not going to take this sitting down. She leaned forward, said GO and was greeted with a welcome burst of speed. They were carving up the track, up to Icee's throatlatch in seconds. Valencia grinned, called out So it's to be a fight then, isn't it Merry? and then...she was off. Icee had the inside rail, the class. Fleet had the reaction time of a cobra, though. He stuck to her even as she lunged forward without being asked and stuck it to the mare. It was the embodiment of Meredith's spirit - she wasn't going to take Valencia sitting down. She would fight against this woman just as much as her horse was fighting Icee. Valencia's smile disappeared as Fleet suddenly lunged forward off the final turn, carving a nose lead. And then it was gone, and Icee had attacked now with sudden ferocity, and she was leaving Fleet behind in a quick and impressive turn of foot. This was her track. She would not be beaten here. But Valencia would never forget how Meredith's and Fleet's spirits had combined and carved that nose lead in the stretch. Even though they crossed the wire four in front, she would not be able to forget the small defeat they had suffered.
Meredith shot Valencia a cheeky grin. Valencia returned a glare and looked the other way. Regardless of the result, Italian Ice was ready to win in the Spring Dawn Treader Cup and make history. And Fleet was ready to rise, rise and rise until he stood as high as his stablemate.
