across boundaries

[S u N f r O s T ~]

VENTURA AND AMBER BLACK
ARES AND VALENCIA ANDREWS

The challenge was wordless. It simmered in the air, originating from glaring eyes and the flattening of ears whenever eye contact was made. It glowed between the riders on the backs of the two Thoroughbreds currently facing off. Do you honestly think you can take me on? This from the five year old Ventura, perhaps the racing world’s top dirt sprinter at this point in time. Once a router, Ven had, as was her style, decided to go entirely against the grain in her pedigree and excel at six furlongs. And excel was an understatement – she was three for three this season. Her challenge was strong and intimidating to say the least, but the colt opposite her was not one that could be walked all over. He was Ares, named after the Greek god of war and bloodshed, and challenges woke him up. He may have been three years younger than the mare before him, but you wouldn’t know it based on the way he handled himself. Ventura was cold in her challenge; Ares was hot like the sun. It was exactly Valencia’s style.

The two were facing off over the home dirt. Freshly mowed, of the finest quality. Amber remembered riding Ventura’s sire Impressario over this track during his Triple Crown campaign, always seeking for speed and stamina. For Ventura, though, speed was almost all that was required. As for Ares…he was out of Amber’s old horse Positively Precious, sold on to Witch Creek Stable a while back. It was hardly surprising that the line had come back to Stride Of Perfection though – Amber never let her sold horses go easily. And he had been a fast one for them, breaking his maiden at ten furlongs and then becoming their main dirt sprinter. Fast and versatile, he had stamina packed with speed. His talent was something Valencia didn’t even have to advertise – everybody just knew.

This staring contest could go on forever. Valencia shook her head, sent a smirk Amber’s way, and let Amber’s fly. The slow canter-gallop became an all-out run. The trick may have worked on a lesser horse. Ventura had been racing for years. She was not going to be fooled by the tricks of this juvenile. She went right with him, ears pinned flat to her head, fire in her eyes. Eye to eye was how this first furlong went…and then Ventura pulled a Rising Fury on the lead. Just like her dam, she suddenly let the barriers drop, and she was in the lead completely, pulling away. The motion had been smoothly executed, flawlessly done, and if Ares wanted a chance he would have to move now. Let her get too far away, and there would be no reigning her in.

Valencia realized that. She was no one’s fool. Ares was itching to go and she let him. The chestnut colt accelerated sharply, slipping into Ven’s shadow as they moved around the first turn. He was on the outside and lost a half-length, but quickly made it up as they strode up the backstretch. The run hadn’t even truly started for Ventura yet. She was cruising, a controlled tidal wave of speed. Ares was being pushed hard. He had not truly faced an older horse in a workout before. It was now that he displayed his heart, sticking stubbornly to her, reveling in his speed even as it challenged him. This was war. Ares was not going to give up without one hell of a fight.

The half was sizzling for Ares, silky smooth for Ven. And then the older mare dug down more, gave it some more for the final half. She sailed a bit farther ahead. Ares, stubborn to the end, pushed for more, matched her speed but could not overcome her. He stuck there all through the end, even as Ventura continued to push faster, never letting up. It was only in the final furlong that he found himself unable to continue at the speed Ventura was going at. Ventura sped up to a speed even she found testing, and now Ares did the only thing he could – he refused to slow down. He blazed at the speed of before while Ventura lit the track on fire. Amber Black felt like cackling as they hit the wire and slowed, Ares perhaps four lengths back and finishing in equally impressive fashion.

This was what it was like to ride a tidal wave and the first ripple of a tidal wave. Speed on speed had rolled out over this track, and both were ready to continue stepping it up in their next starts.