The Simple Beginnings

[Sam]

Horse Tempered Passion
Jockey Sam Lettington
Purpose Exercise and workout for Maidens Do Battle Stake Races (Polar Ice Cap Maiden Stakes to be exact)

The dark colt was hot. He was the first son of the great Impassioned Wind and he knew it. He knew he was expected to do great things before he was even conceived. He knew I've been waiting for him. He simply had to know to be acting so thingyy.

But the one thing he didn't know was how much hope I had on him. How quickly he destroy that hope. How quickly he could go from my next future champion, to just another race horse.

No, he was something more. He was no race horse. He was the race horse. And as he pranced under me, his neck curved in an elegant way and his hooves bouncing high, I was convinced he simply knew all this, and then some.

Think you're Mister Hot Stuff huh, Tim? I said with a chuckle. No reply came. As if my question was only a statement to him. Perhaps he was too focused. His head was bent forwards towards the track. His intelligent eyes watching everything. His ears were bent back, slightly listening to me though I wasn't sure if he was actually listening. Just pretending to.

We continued to trot, giving him a nice long work out. When they were young and still new to this sport I gave them the longest work outs as their bones are more sustainable to the heavy impact of their gallop. Tim was a strong horse but he had thin bones. Perfect for racing but if he was to live a happy, healthy, pain free life after his racing years then he had to be worked slowly.

After a good while, I allowed his body to rock into a canter. His canter was a slow, but ground covering. His body rocked in a near lazy fashion. His head and mouth was a different matter. He grew hard, pulling against me and trying to get more, his head kept trying to dip forwards so he may gallop.

His ragged breathes came faster as he started to increase his speed to a near gallop. I used all my strength to hold him and just when I was about to give out, he gave in. His body relaxed and his neck went slack instead of tense and straining. Just like his mother, I thought to myself.

We cantered towards the gates. He was pretty good with the gates. I taught him at a young age to not be scared of the metal monsters, that most horses believed was simply a horse eating gate. We all know how often we lose horses to those darn gates.

Tim and I slowed to a jagged trot, then finally a very forwards and energetic walk. He grew more excited. His head was high and his strides were short and choppy, making the walk rather awkward for me. I steered him into the first gate I saw open, the staff only had to help me close the gates behind him, which I was grateful for.

I signaled to the staff and then waited. Five Tim already started to grow impatient. He chopped and yanked at the bit. Four I held him steady. His hooves jostled out of pure excitement still. Three I continued to hold him, waiting. Two I readied myself. He grew still and tense.

One

The gates flew open with a loud, ear-ringing bringing bell. The colt didn't hesitate to burst forwards. He eagerly flew into his natural speed. Seven furlongs was the distance. I edged him slightly faster. Though as soon as I did this, he refused to stop gaining speed. Again, I held and waited. And once again, as I predicted, he gave in and settled for the speed I desired.

His strides were large, nearly lazy looking. His long legs gathered the ground and ate it up as he went, making it seem effortless. Perhaps it was for Tim. His bloodlines were horses who were breed, trained, and loved to run. All that going into one colt simply made his whole body scream that he was built to go.

The corner came up fast. I helped him angle around it, letting him stray from the rail so he could keep his stride and balance. He was young and galloping while turning was difficult for most horses. I was lucky that he wasn't one of the clumsy ones that must take a year or two to figure out how their legs go and where to put their hooves.

The stretch came upon us swiftly. I didn't signal for the colt to go, he simply went as I edged into position to ask for it. He didn't seem to even care that I missed a beat because of this, and caught him in the mouth. It took another messy stride for me to find his beat and the powered forwards even faster.

His head pulled, his legs stretched and gathered, eating up the turf at a frightening pace. His ears half pinned, avoiding the rush of wind that pushed his mane up and his tail flying back. His nostrils flared and his muscles screamed and worked harder and harder.

Then the wire flew over our heads.

Word Count 872