Late October Workouts

This was the work that Minske had been waiting for for a week. It was one thing to lightly condition a horse - it was another to ride a champion at full power. He actually had butterflies as he walked through the barn, excited anticipation running through his entire being. This was Flawed Princess' last year. Her last three months. Minske would be one of the last people to ever ride this extremely talented mare. The whole thing was monumental in his mind, and became more real every time he mounted up on the champion from Witch Creek. Minske walked up to Amira's stall, looking in over the door when her head didn't pop out to see him. The mare was turned away from him, all but her head. Her head was turned toward him, ears politely pricked forward, head held regally like, well... a royal. Minske smiled, crossing his arms on top of the door. He held one hand out, clucking lightly. The mare stood for a moment, and almost ignored him - then her curiosity got the better of her, and she turned, walking to sniff at his palm. She huffed, then raised her head expectantly. "Yes, I know you know. It's work time." The boy let himself into the stall to groom. A few minutes later, Tigris jogged by, making his way to the stall of Bowen Arrow.

It might seem like an odd match, running the superhorse Flawed Princess in company with a three-year old with two wins under his belt - however, Minske saw it for the strategic move it was on his dad's part. Bowen Arrow might look like lesser class on the surface, but in reality the horse was just lightly raced. He'd come to Valkyrie in September, and since then they'd done what they could, but options were limited until the new year. However, in the three starts he'd made as a three-year-old, he hadn't disappointed. He was strong, he just needed the chance to show it. And part of getting him ready for that showing was breezing him alongside a horse that matched him in distance and surface preference - maybe he'd learn something from the mare in the process. Either was, it was a great way to sharpen them both up. Amira had an especially big race coming, a showing in the Winter Cup. Minske, and the rest of Valkyrie, hoped that her winning streak would continue, even if that was very idealistic. Either way, Amira was a champion, and Valkyrie would be all the better for having her.

Minske finished saddling the pretty bay, and patted her shoulder before he began leading her out. "I'll meet you down there!" Minske called over his shoulder to Tigris, who was starting to saddle bow. Tigris nodded agreement, and Minske continued on. Amira led like a charm, never pulling, never prancing. She was a veteran, but it was more than that. Such immature behaviors were below her - she was a creature of grace and beauty, not a lowly juvenile.

Tigris followed a couple minutes later with Bow. The colt was behaving himself, but walked with his neck bowed, showing that he'd much rather be moving faster. Percentage-wise, the big colt was doing better in his three-year-old season than he had at two. Tigris was pretty sure it wasn't just a fluke number brought on by fewer races, either - the colt had incredible potential. He had improved with every race, and Tigris felt like he would continue to grow. That was the hope, anyway.

Minske smiled when Tigris joined him, relaying his father's instructions - Cole and moved down the track to talk to one of the grooms. "He wants four, Amira in front and Bow no further back than half a length. If you can keep up at all." Minske's eyes flashed mischievously, and Tigris barked out a laugh. "Oh, he can keep up. Just because he hasn't won as much doesn't mean he won't. Tigris wasn't fooling himself - he knew Amira was stronger. For now. Cole walked back, giving both boys a leg into the saddle, then sent them to the turf track. Amira still handled like a champ, though every stride showed restrained power just waiting to be let loose. Bow was a little more of a hot-head, breaking into a trot as soon as his hooves hit the turf. Tigris let him, not begrudging him his attitude on such a nice autumn day. Minske urged Amira to trot as well, and she responded, stride lengthening into a beautiful gate. The two horses went side-by-side, Amira a calming presence beside the upbeat colt. They went halfway around the track, allowing the horses to warm their muscles. Then they asked them to move into a gallop. Surprisingly, Amira didn't go at first - she seemed to just enjoy being out here, and she didn't need to be going fast to do it. However, the sight of Bow moving away from her got her competitive drive going, and she moved up, to Minske's relief - there really was no way for him to make her go faster if she didn't want to, not in an exercise saddle.

Amira caught up quickly, then both horses settled into a light gallop, high-actioned strides perfect for the turf. Another minute, and it was time to start the work. Minske guided Amira to the rail, and Bow settled in beside her, nose at her flank. Minske loosened the reins and kissed to the mare, urging her to pick up speed. Amira had been waiting for it and responded accordingly, charging forward, digging her hooves into the grass surface. Bow jumped as well, not willing to let her break away from him. Minske felt a rush of adrenaline just riding the mare - she was, somehow, more powerful than any horse he'd ever ridden. She wasn't faster, necessarily, at least not enough to really notice. But he somehow felt, while riding her, that she was unbeatable. It wasn't true, but that was how he felt. And when they were a furlong from the wire, he asked her to push, and Bow was asked to as well. However, her killer drive and ability to find her stride in an instant was too much for the younger colt, at least for now - the mare surged forward, pulling away by two lengths without even putting her all into it. A glance back showed a look in Bow's eye that he loved to see - hunger. He wanted to catch her. He was too inexperienced to do so just yet, but the fact that he wanted it so bad was great.

The horses galloped out, Bow handling it like a champ despite not getting in front. When they pulled up, Minske had an almost stupidly wide grin on his face. Amira felt none the worse for wear, and Bow didn't look bad either. "I don't think he pushed as much as he could have," Tigris said as the horses were handed over to hotwalkers. Minske cave him a curious look. "I don't think he expected her to be as good as she was. He's never run with a horse like that," he explained. Then he smiled. "He knows now, though. Hopefully he'll just run like hell and not judge competition anymore."