t a i n t e d

[S u N f r O s T ~]

The colt was black as ever, but his mood matched his colt. Solemnly, the three year old thoroughbred picked his way along the dirt track. Fire burned in his eyes, fire to win again. Impressario had recently suffered some losses, and a drop in performance as well as confidence was the result. The colt kept losing to sly horses, horses in the shadows that now emerged. Burning deep within the colt was not only the glorious fire that fed his determination to win, but also fury. It had been Anarchi's return that had started this, the colt was sure of it. It was all Anarchi's fault that he had suffered, since he had lost two races to his bitter rival before the other losses. Ario's spirits were at an all time low, but not for pity for himself. He simply knew he could do better, but the taint of Anarchi was clouding his mind, slowing his stride, making his heart beat all the faster as he worked for the wings he had, to open them and let himself fly under the wire first.

I could feel the fury through the reins as he glided onto the dirt track. His hooves left no mark on the smooth, unmarred surface, but the way he moved today was like a predator. He stalked about, keeping his fury quietly to himself in a way that reminded me somehow of Anarchi. But, then again, these days Anarchi was everywhere and anything, the very colt that stood in his way on the path to racing domination.

We smoothly broke into a canter without really thinking, and Ario's strides were measured and almost soft, delicate, as if he was unsure of what speed to run at. I didn't tell him to speed up or slow down, and eventually he settled into his regular rocking pace. As his muscles warmed up, I gave him a couple circles to keep him interested, and to warm him up faster so we could run sooner. Ario obeyed my commands almost icily, as if he was resigned to these actions that had once made him win races, but now lose them. Today I would just let him run as a prep for the Florida Derby. If he didn't win I'd be very disheartened, as his Triple Crown campaign looked more and more unlikely in his favor.

I let him accelerate to a gallop as we cantered into the backstretch, and suddenly Impressario stretched out. He let himself soar effortlessly just for the pleasure of it, as if he had come to a conclusion and that conclusion was to enjoy every minute of racing, whether he won or lost. I guess maybe he knew the quote "All good things must come to an end,", but to him the understanding that dawned on him now was devastating. His attitude towards his failure was a resilient one, and pride welled up inside me. This colt could deal with changing life conditions better than the majority of human kind, and I hoped his thinking was honored in the Florida Derby.

We accelerated steadily in classic Impressario fashion, steadily getting faster while still maintaining a lead on the field. I help him in check carefully, making sure he had enough steam to ward off the closers and still win in fashion. Ario seemed to monitor himself as well, slowing down a bit as we progressed along the backstretch. We had five furlongs to go before the wire, more than enough time to sit back and relax and allow himself some exhilarating running time. Sometimes for him, racing wasn't the answer. Joyful running was, and his spirit soared as he pushed himself and dug his legs into the dirt, throwing himself forward now with joyfulness and sudden reckless abandon. I trusted that he knew what effect this could have, and let him run freely. Anything that made the slightly depressed colt happy was perfectly fine with me.

Three furlongs left to go. The backstretch had passed in a blur of contentment, and now the colt was pulling even more speed out of his nearly seventeen hands high body, throwing himself forward and pushing against the hard packed dirt in an effort to throw himself into the sky, pumping wings that no horse that was purely a horse could outrun - or outfly. My reins were very long now as I gave him his head, and he took the bit joyfully and ran home to the wire. We sprinted into the backstretch, moving as one single fast creature, and went through the final two furlongs. Ario was calling for more and more speed as we sped through the final furlongs, begging for more rein and more speed from his body even though there wasn't any. My hands moved with his bobbing neck in harmony, and he raced unhindered, simply happy to be free - if only temporarily - of the taint of Anarchi.

We flew under the wire like a unicorn with wings, using magic to guide our hooves to beat the mere mortals once again. But as I slowed the colt, the black thoroughbred once more bore the taint of Anarchi and of his current racing low, and all the exhilaration and happiness drained out of him like water in a bathtub. He needed the win to erase the taint, or he would sink even lower in spirits. I wished for nothing less than a win in the Florida Derby, and I knew that Impressario's ambition for the race was as high as mine. We would win it, or possibly forfeit the Triple Crown completely - or at least, forfeit a lot of our favorable chances for the win.

Come on Ario. Do it! I thought, and as if hearing me Ario's head shot up proudly, and his dejected pace became the one of a champion, the one of a winner, the one of him free from the taint.