Post by Clouded Judgement on May 18, 2006 16:26:13 GMT -5
Cloud stood still in the cross ties as he was groomed till he shone. He tossed his head on occasion, but didn't cause too much trouble. He swatted away the pesky flies with the tassel, and leaned into the brush. Then the saddle pad was lifted onto his back, and he began to prance a bit. The saddle was put on next. Then the dreaded girth. Cloud gave a little buck, and a kick as the grooms tugged it tight around his barrel. He snorted in disgust. Then his halter was taken off, and he plunged forward. But before he got anywhere, the reins were around his next. He refused the bit, and the groom slid his thumb into his mouth. He spat at it, and then had the bit dragged into his mouth. Soon the throat lash and nose band, plus curb chain were attached. A lead shank was looped around his nose for optimum control. As soon as he was lead out of the barn, he tugged and tugged, yanked and yanked to be free. His pistons were ready and willing to fly down the track. His breath came out in short puffs against the morning air as he was lead eagerly towards the oval.
His hooves touched the track eagerly. A few other horses were coming off the oval, their bodies glazed in sweat. He heard the gruff man call out,
Come see the best 2 year old around work. Good lines and fire. Come see 'im now!
His ears pricked to the man. He loved the track. The instant his hooves touched the track he became excited. He yanked harder on the lead shank wanting to go, go, go! A few people crowded around. The trainer came over with a jock and told her,
He had a rest yesterday. Get him a good workout. Gallop a good 3/4 mil then let him out in the last 1/4 mile, got it?
The jock nodded her head, and was hoisted up into his saddle. He yanked forward, pulling her forward a bit, but she gave him a sharp tug on the reins. She warmed him up, and he tugged and pulled. He wanted to run more than anything. Finally, she turned him against the inside rail, facing the right way, and stopped him. Every single muscle of him tensed. He tossed his head, and even before the jock lowered into the crouch, he was off. He set off at a good clip. The jock was supposed to rate him, and tightened her hold. Then she listened to his breaths, and knew he was rated, so she gave him some rein. He needed no guidance. He stayed on the inside rail as he'd been taught. He dug in deep, flinging the dirt far behind him with great satisfaction. He tugged constantly on the reins, wanting more. He wanted to move so fast, the dirt never even touched his hooves. The half mile mark flew by in a blur, and then the 3/4 mile mark. Suddenly, the reins went slack. He took his chance, and dug in real deep to the sand. His whole body was elongated, neck stretched far, tassel streaming behind him, legs moving as far forward and as fast as possible. He continued to gain speed, finding the energy somewhere inside him. The jock tried to slow him down, but he wanted more. He galloped harder, breathes coming out in big puffs. He soon broke out into a light sweat. The turf coated his legs and body, but he didn't care. He moved faster and faster. Then a sharp jerk came on his mouth, and he slammed to a stop, the jock jolted forward. She slapped him on the haunches with her crop, and tightened the reins, and pulled on them hard. He twisted his head to the side, trying to escape it. He half reared then was muscled into walking over to the fence. His glory was over. The jock gave him a hard swat on the rump, for no reason he knew. It stung his rump hard, with a sharp distaste. With a simple flick of the hindquarters, he threw her off into the ground, then turned towards the track and began to gallop again. The air filled his lungs as he moved at a nearly dangerous rate, till someone caught him. If it ever happened. He ran, not because he was supposed to, but because that was what ran through his veins. That's what he lived to do, so he'd do it till he was done
His hooves touched the track eagerly. A few other horses were coming off the oval, their bodies glazed in sweat. He heard the gruff man call out,
Come see the best 2 year old around work. Good lines and fire. Come see 'im now!
His ears pricked to the man. He loved the track. The instant his hooves touched the track he became excited. He yanked harder on the lead shank wanting to go, go, go! A few people crowded around. The trainer came over with a jock and told her,
He had a rest yesterday. Get him a good workout. Gallop a good 3/4 mil then let him out in the last 1/4 mile, got it?
The jock nodded her head, and was hoisted up into his saddle. He yanked forward, pulling her forward a bit, but she gave him a sharp tug on the reins. She warmed him up, and he tugged and pulled. He wanted to run more than anything. Finally, she turned him against the inside rail, facing the right way, and stopped him. Every single muscle of him tensed. He tossed his head, and even before the jock lowered into the crouch, he was off. He set off at a good clip. The jock was supposed to rate him, and tightened her hold. Then she listened to his breaths, and knew he was rated, so she gave him some rein. He needed no guidance. He stayed on the inside rail as he'd been taught. He dug in deep, flinging the dirt far behind him with great satisfaction. He tugged constantly on the reins, wanting more. He wanted to move so fast, the dirt never even touched his hooves. The half mile mark flew by in a blur, and then the 3/4 mile mark. Suddenly, the reins went slack. He took his chance, and dug in real deep to the sand. His whole body was elongated, neck stretched far, tassel streaming behind him, legs moving as far forward and as fast as possible. He continued to gain speed, finding the energy somewhere inside him. The jock tried to slow him down, but he wanted more. He galloped harder, breathes coming out in big puffs. He soon broke out into a light sweat. The turf coated his legs and body, but he didn't care. He moved faster and faster. Then a sharp jerk came on his mouth, and he slammed to a stop, the jock jolted forward. She slapped him on the haunches with her crop, and tightened the reins, and pulled on them hard. He twisted his head to the side, trying to escape it. He half reared then was muscled into walking over to the fence. His glory was over. The jock gave him a hard swat on the rump, for no reason he knew. It stung his rump hard, with a sharp distaste. With a simple flick of the hindquarters, he threw her off into the ground, then turned towards the track and began to gallop again. The air filled his lungs as he moved at a nearly dangerous rate, till someone caught him. If it ever happened. He ran, not because he was supposed to, but because that was what ran through his veins. That's what he lived to do, so he'd do it till he was done