Post by SigOUrNeY on Jan 6, 2008 10:41:03 GMT -5
The entire world was silent, and Dangeruex stood at the edge of his paddock, head raised proudly over the fence. The sun was just beginning to think about leaving its bed, and the mist that cloaked the Earth and its inhabitants made a last stand. The young colt searched the land for life with his dark orbs, but when he saw none, lowered his finely cut head to search for some appetizing grass. The morning dew made every blade unpleasantly wet, and Dangeruex drew up his head with a dissatisfied snort. But the grass was forgotten when he saw a figure emerge from the misty background, silhouetted at first, but then taking the form of Chris. The near black horse moved to the gate once more, looking at the stable hand intently. When Chris opened the gate and moved towards the colt with gentle words, Dangeruex backed up only one step before he let the man slip the leather headpiece over his head. ”Come on Blake,” Chris said, patting the colt’s thick neck. The horse walked along behind the lead rope, nudging Chris’ back with his forehead fondly. Chris grinned as he scratched the thoroughbred’s poll, parting his black forelock to reveal a white star. ”You ready for work today?” Dangeruex shook his mane, his forelock falling to cover his star again. Chris chuckled, opening up the double doors and leading the colt through into the training barn. Dangeruex walked eagerly towards his stall, and dragged Chris along with him when he made a dash for the food bucket. He finished off his breakfast oats, and then made a move for the hay. Chris quickly slipped off the halter before he was stuck watching the colt eat again. Heading out of the stall, Chris went to go finish his other chores while Blake tore at the flake of hay.
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Dangereux walked alongside Chris as the stablehand led him towards the track, the shrouding morning mist slowly giving way, uncovering the world from its blanket. Blake's stature was quiet, muscles loose and ears pointed in two different directions. He swatted his tail at an imaginary fly, and shook her head so that black strands of mane rippled down his neck.
Chris brought the thoroughbred to a halt next to the white railing of the track, and climbing on top of it used the rail as his mounting block for Blake. The near black horse danced as he felt Chris in the saddle, and bobbed his head so that his dark forelock curtained the silver star. Chris patiently guided Blake through the track entrance, the gap in the rail usually inviting to most horses, but to Blake, he entered it like someone going into the grocery store. Nothing special.
Chris urged Blake into a jog, and the gigantic thoroughbred obliged, neck arching as her trotted, long legs striding easily over the dirt. Chris leaned high over his withers, gloved hands grasping the reins. Blake was obviously looking for something to be interested in. When a bird flew out of a jam of trees far away from them, Blake snorted at it and reared up, leaping forward on his hind legs as he tore at the bit. "Whoa Blake," Chris steadied, circling the large colt. Blake let out a powerful buck, sending Chris catapulting onto his neck. Once the jockey had regained his seat, Blake had completely forgotten about the bird. And even before chris could correct him, Blake was trotting along again, looking for something else to spook at. When a dog barked far off, Chris was ready for the thoroughbred. Before Blake had hardly collected his muscles, Chris already had him circling, and then skidding to a stop in front of the outer rail. Shaking his head to rid himself of the dizziness, Blake snorted in disapproval of being shown up. Chris chuckled. "Beat you to it big stuff."
Chris soon had the near black colt cantering easily around the track, the thoroughbred hardly putting any effort into his steps, covering distance quickly because of the colt's enormous stride. When Chris was certain that Blake was warmed up properly, he reined the big horse in the direction of the gates. Blake snorted when he lay eyes on the iron monster. He walked towards it tentatively, neck stretching out to sniff it. When his large doughy muzzle connected with the cold iron, Blake reared up, striking the air with his stone hooves. Chris hung onto black mane, and stayed still as Blake came down. The large horse made no effort to rear again, and instead leaned in for another inspection of the gates. Chris let the colt take his time. This wasn't the first time Blake had encountered the starting gates, he had entered and broken from them a couple of times before. But he was still in the stage of learning that they wouldn't hurt him.
When Blake suddenly became bored with the gates and began to look around for something else, Chris clucked to the large thoroughbred. Blake shook his head and began to back up, unwilling to enter the gates. Chris let up the pressure from the reins, and clucked to him again. Blake stood still. Chris applied pressure from his legs, patiently urging the dark black bay to enter the iron gates. The front door was open, as well as the back. Courageously, Blake stepped forward and tentatively walked into the cramped space. When he was fully loaded, Chris patted and praised the colt. Chris held Blake inside the contraption for several seconds, the colt only swishing his tail.
Clucking to Blake, Chris urged him into a trot out of the gates, and then a canter, and finally a gallop. The black bay started out slow, but responding to urging from his rider, began to speed up, his dark tail flailing out behind him. Blake's strides were ground eating and steady, and if somebody was watching they might think he was already going all out. But only Chris on his back knew that there was so much more - Blake just wasn't willing to give it. Why run when there was no one to run against? Blake was too sensible for his own good.
All around the turn, Chris tried to urge more from the colt, but the thoroughbred was only willing to give what he already was. After galloping for a mile and a half, Chris pulled up the giant colt, knowing that the time they had made wasn't anything to sneeze at, but that only made him wonder. What would happen if Blake suddenly decided he really did want to run? Chris wanted to much more out of the horse, but Blake just wasn't ready to give it. And for now, Chris had to be content with that. But that didn't mean he was satisfied.
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Dangereux walked alongside Chris as the stablehand led him towards the track, the shrouding morning mist slowly giving way, uncovering the world from its blanket. Blake's stature was quiet, muscles loose and ears pointed in two different directions. He swatted his tail at an imaginary fly, and shook her head so that black strands of mane rippled down his neck.
Chris brought the thoroughbred to a halt next to the white railing of the track, and climbing on top of it used the rail as his mounting block for Blake. The near black horse danced as he felt Chris in the saddle, and bobbed his head so that his dark forelock curtained the silver star. Chris patiently guided Blake through the track entrance, the gap in the rail usually inviting to most horses, but to Blake, he entered it like someone going into the grocery store. Nothing special.
Chris urged Blake into a jog, and the gigantic thoroughbred obliged, neck arching as her trotted, long legs striding easily over the dirt. Chris leaned high over his withers, gloved hands grasping the reins. Blake was obviously looking for something to be interested in. When a bird flew out of a jam of trees far away from them, Blake snorted at it and reared up, leaping forward on his hind legs as he tore at the bit. "Whoa Blake," Chris steadied, circling the large colt. Blake let out a powerful buck, sending Chris catapulting onto his neck. Once the jockey had regained his seat, Blake had completely forgotten about the bird. And even before chris could correct him, Blake was trotting along again, looking for something else to spook at. When a dog barked far off, Chris was ready for the thoroughbred. Before Blake had hardly collected his muscles, Chris already had him circling, and then skidding to a stop in front of the outer rail. Shaking his head to rid himself of the dizziness, Blake snorted in disapproval of being shown up. Chris chuckled. "Beat you to it big stuff."
Chris soon had the near black colt cantering easily around the track, the thoroughbred hardly putting any effort into his steps, covering distance quickly because of the colt's enormous stride. When Chris was certain that Blake was warmed up properly, he reined the big horse in the direction of the gates. Blake snorted when he lay eyes on the iron monster. He walked towards it tentatively, neck stretching out to sniff it. When his large doughy muzzle connected with the cold iron, Blake reared up, striking the air with his stone hooves. Chris hung onto black mane, and stayed still as Blake came down. The large horse made no effort to rear again, and instead leaned in for another inspection of the gates. Chris let the colt take his time. This wasn't the first time Blake had encountered the starting gates, he had entered and broken from them a couple of times before. But he was still in the stage of learning that they wouldn't hurt him.
When Blake suddenly became bored with the gates and began to look around for something else, Chris clucked to the large thoroughbred. Blake shook his head and began to back up, unwilling to enter the gates. Chris let up the pressure from the reins, and clucked to him again. Blake stood still. Chris applied pressure from his legs, patiently urging the dark black bay to enter the iron gates. The front door was open, as well as the back. Courageously, Blake stepped forward and tentatively walked into the cramped space. When he was fully loaded, Chris patted and praised the colt. Chris held Blake inside the contraption for several seconds, the colt only swishing his tail.
Clucking to Blake, Chris urged him into a trot out of the gates, and then a canter, and finally a gallop. The black bay started out slow, but responding to urging from his rider, began to speed up, his dark tail flailing out behind him. Blake's strides were ground eating and steady, and if somebody was watching they might think he was already going all out. But only Chris on his back knew that there was so much more - Blake just wasn't willing to give it. Why run when there was no one to run against? Blake was too sensible for his own good.
All around the turn, Chris tried to urge more from the colt, but the thoroughbred was only willing to give what he already was. After galloping for a mile and a half, Chris pulled up the giant colt, knowing that the time they had made wasn't anything to sneeze at, but that only made him wonder. What would happen if Blake suddenly decided he really did want to run? Chris wanted to much more out of the horse, but Blake just wasn't ready to give it. And for now, Chris had to be content with that. But that didn't mean he was satisfied.