don't mess with fire

[Sunfrost]

DASHING IN THE FIRELIGHT AND HENNA TURATH
FIRE DANCER AND KRYSTAL YHATE
FIRE'S AND FIRE'S WORKOUT FOR THE RISORGIMENTO DERBY

This ride held special meaning for those gathered there to witness it. It was the final ride and the final stand of the beloved Dashing In The Firelight and the rider that loved her so much, Henna Turath. This was their final workout and it was two weeks after their penultimate race, which had been a second place finish to Furious Passion in the Breeders Cup Marathon. Never had Henna Turath wanted a win more. Her blood burned with the desire to show what Fire was made of one last time against the best racehorses in the Risorgimento Derby. Months had built up to this moment. This was the final race in the series, held a bit later than originally planned due to the Breeders Cup and the Invitationals. Fire had raced in week three of December, winning the illustrious Palm Tree Paradise Invitational. The memory of the day could have made Henna break down and cry. Her beloved light bay mare had been wreathed in roses and hailed as a champion.

After finishing second in the Breeders Cup, Henna had looked to Fire's last race with a touch of resentment. The mare was six years old now, fully grown and gorgeous. She stood tall and ready to go, as always thrumming with power like a well oiled engine. As Henna mounted up she let out a small sob, and bent over the mare's neck to hug her tightly from her position in the saddle. Fire responded with a nicker, wondering what was bothering her rider. All the mare saw was the dirt track of Intrepid Racing far from her hooves, and all she heard was the single sad cry of her rider, for which she knew no reason. How was she to know that this was her final race, and that after this there would be no glory except in the accomplishments of the foals she would have? She was a horse. She had no idea that her glorious life spent racing those of her kind was going to end.

At the other side of the saddling paddock. Krystal mounted Fire Dancer and sighed. Their third place finish in the Ladies Classic wasn't unexpected but she couldn't help but have wanted more. Then again, they had defeated Silverianna at last, and she had loved the feeling of gliding past the gray daughter of Bank On Silver. She would live for that feeling again if possible. Fire was four years old now and she looked gorgeous. The dark bay daughter of Native Flame was just a grade four, but she had finally grown into herself. Her eyes scanned the track around her with new intelligence and a new will to prove. Krystal had already slotted the Ladies Classic as their goal for the year and she intended to work hard for it. This time around, no mare would stand in their way. Fire's ascent to glory would begin with the Risorgimento Cup. She would flash her speed and prove herself a worthy competitor.

The Risorgimento was ten furlongs on the dirt. They would be facing the fantastic closer Limitless Time and the blue blooded Euphorion. Born To Soar had been retired and scratched. It was a move Henna could have duplicated, but she wanted to race Fire one last time. She wanted to stand in the winners' circle aboard the mare she had nursed back to health and glory after her injury. Fire was to be bred to Confianza and then have her weanling sold in the sale. This actually didn't bother Henna too much. There would be plenty more foals out of her favorite mare for her to care for. As for the other Fire, she had two years left before sharing the light bay mare's fate. She wasn't ready yet to depart the track. She had yet to leave her mark, after all.

Both women were mounted up and moving out to the track. Henna felt the roiling desire of Fire underneath her. She wanted to uncoil her long legs and go for a ride with her rider. In her was the liquid joy that came from running, a joy she still felt. Henna shared that. She, too, wanted the long strides of her favorite mare carrying her away on a cloud to oblivion. But they had to be serious. This was their last workout, ever, and their final prep for the Risorgimento. Their racing performance had to be at its peak. Fire was still full of speed and will. Time to show the world just how much was left! As for Fire Dancer, her days in the shadows would be ending. The final daughter of On To Dancing would be showing the world the talent she had brewing inside. Light footed and quick but powerful, she was a handful for Krystal to control. Whenever she was mounted atop the bay filly, Krystal was reminded of just how much was at her command, and she could never stop the grin that broke out on her face at the thought.

The pair warmed up side by side, trotting and then cantering, constantly challenging each other for the lead. Their accelerations never ceased as they duked it out without the command of their riders. They were racehorses; this was what they did. To have another in the lead ahead of them was unacceptable. That was their rightful place, and nobody else's. When the time was right, their jockeys finally let the mares out and felt their blistering speed.

Fire Dancer was the one with a slight lead; the lighter Fire took to the outside, never too far away. They dueled silently, but bided their time as their did so. There was no need for a rush. They were distance runners. Fire Dancer moved as a dancer, quick on her hooves and ready to go at a moment's notice. Just as Fire began uncoiling her stride and charging her stretch run, as Henna had asked to feel more speed, Krystal and her Fire were counter attacking and fighting back. They would deny the older mare the lead. But the younger Fire was not having it, and she fought back, still accelerating even as her older superior came thundering up alongside and even managed to put a nose in front.

The duel was a brutal one. The glares of the mares spat fire as they were finally slowed down, sweaty and eager for more. They looked at each other as rivals, and neither broke the stare until their riders asked them to. Their challenge would resume on race day. A valuable lesson had been learned by both; let none mess with Fire unless they wanted to be burned with a glare that scorched and with hooves that blazed the track with speed.