ＳＥＶＥＮ ＹＥＡＲＳ ＡＧＯ“Close the gate!” Came the call from the stable block, almost drowned out by the suddenly approaching hoofbeats. Eight hooves hit the concrete ground of the stables, skittering through the stables and towards the wide open gate. Four eyes, hazel and blue, landed on the human who was racing to shut the main gate, narrowing in challenge.
Strides lengthened as the race began, heads lowering and nostrils stretching wide, watching their chance of escape grow thinner, and thinner, and-
With a clang, the gate closed, leaving both colts to slide to a halt, disappointment and annoyance crossing over both of their faces. Within seconds, hands had slipped beneath collars, and two sulky colts were led back towards their stables.
“It looks like Fennel’s figured out the locks, Boss,” The human boy leading Cayenne said, laughing lightly. The older man scoffed, muttering something about extra locks, and both colts were separated again. It wasn’t long before his best friend appeared over his stall door again, black ears pricked towards him, bald face showing an eagerness. Cayenne couldn’t suppress the nicker of excitement, drawing the attention of the humans, who quickly locked up his friend once again. After a few minutes had passed, but his pal still hadn’t approached, Cayenne ventured to his stall door, peeping over.
A man was crouched in front of Fennel’s stall door, using some sort of noisy thing to add another lock to the base of the door, where the dark colt couldn’t have reached. Meeting eyes with his friend, he recognized the glint shining in that icy gaze, and watched with glee as his friend lowered his maw, catching the hood of the man and shaking vigorously. Delighting in the angry grumblings of the man, both colts began to squeal and kick - no matter how separate the humans tried to keep them, they’d always be able to cause trouble!
ＦＩＶＥ ＹＥＡＲＳ ＡＧＯThere was a sickening thud as hoof hit flesh, a grunt rising from the appaloosa colt. Sliding to a halt, grinding up the pasture’s soft mud beneath his hooves, he looked over to the black stallion, standing with a slight guilt in his eyes. He hadn’t intended to kick Cayenne that hard, and was hesitating to make sure that his pale friend hadn’t been hurt. Cay huffed, turning his rear to Fen as he began to walk stiffly away. Almost immediately, his dark friend was at his shoulder, bald face shoved close to his, pink nose whuffing in his direction. Cay turned his head away dramatically, then swung it back with a nip to Fen’s muzzle, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to share his pain with the other colt.
With a synchronicity only shared by those who spent all of their waking time together, the pair spun, barely taking a second before propelling themselves into a gallop. The pasture stretched out before them, and they took to it with glee, racing each other around the perimeter, matching stride for stride. After a lap, the race was no closer to a winner, so the antics began again, each one nipping and kicking at the other to slow them down, ending in a full scuffle. And, as always, one colt walked away, defeated, only to turn the tide on their opponent once again.
ＴＨＲＥＥ ＹＥＡＲＳ ＡＧＯSweat, leather, alcohol, grass. The cocktail of smells could only be found at a racecourse, and, for Cayenne, there was no greater combination.
Rolling the bit on his tongue, nostrils flared in anticipation, he shifted his weight within the gates, feeling the jockey on his back running a hand down his neck, but not baring any mind. All that Cay could focus on was the excitement, the course that spread before him.
From somewhere on his left, he heard a snort, and, raising his head, he locked eyes with Fennel, pinning his ears in challenge. In their years of training, their races had crossed from a simple pasture play to the real thing, and now the pair were competing once again.
Shouts began, and Cay locked his gaze on the course again. Before long, the bell rang out above them, and his jockey’s heels dug into his side, urging him forward. As the race began, two bodies surged ahead of the pack, black-and-white legs locked in rhythm with white-and-spotted, a bald face showing the same determination as a splotched, cream one. The stallions took each hurdle in their stride, seeming to just float over the brushy jumps, never losing any speed.
The jockeys urged them on, but without any urgency - whoever came in first secured a win for the stables, so the money was coming home no matter what. But for the stallions, this was a more serious matter. As the course took a dip downhill, the real struggle began. Fen pulled himself forward by a number of strides, only to dip back behind Cay again for some more strides. The finish line came into view, and, with soft grunts and clear sounds of efforts, the stallions thundered towards it. The crowds cheered in a cacophonous roar, and, all too soon, it was over.
Cay felt the shift in the saddle as his jockey stood in the stirrups, hearing his whoops and hollers, and, with an smug look to Fen, Cay took off into a springing celebration of his own.
ＯＮＥ ＹＥＡＲ ＡＧＯCayenne stood in his stall, eyes glazed and breathing shallow. He hadn’t moved much since he got home from that race, no matter how much the humans wanted him to.
There was nothing but that race playing in his mind. Over and over, he watched himself take off from the start gate, quickly falling into stride with Fennel. It had been a while since the pair had raced each other, having been separated into different grades thanks to Cay’s ability to squeak ahead in more wins.
But Fennel had proved himself, and now the pair were racing again, and the energy was almost flammable. Both stallions, each determined to prove himself better than the other, fell straight back into that coltish synchronicity as they ran in-stride with each other.
It was a joyous moment, but one that tugged at the appaloosa stallion’s heart.
The ground was soft.
Too soft to have run the race.
But hindsight was always so, so clear.
The jump at the top of that course was always awkward. It was turning around the corner, causing many accidents, even on a good day.
He could still see Fen’s form from the corner of his eye, left foreleg slipping beneath him. He couldn’t stop, could barely turn his head, but he heard it.
Snap.
The unmistakable sound of a bone shattering. Cay had heard it once before, but it was nowhere near as devastating as this. He wanted to stop, to turn around to ensure that Fen was okay, but the jockey pushed him forward, and soon the pack of other equine bodies was upon them, urging them ahead.
For the first time in his career, PNR Sweet ‘n’ Spicy did not place.
He had strained to see what had happened, but he was trailered and driven home without hearing anything. The humans hadn’t spoken about it within earshot, and, as he stood, gazing blankly at the empty stable across the aisle, but PNR Flowering Fennel’s white face never reappeared, his black body never travelled down the aisle.
ＯＮＥ ＭＯＮＴＨ ＡＧＯ“He’s useless!” came the shout, the trainer flinging the stopwatch to the ground. “You want my advice? Sell him. Get what measly money you can for him, and get rid.”
And, with that, he was put up for sale. Three different people came to see him, but none were impressed. This was supposed to be the champion, PNR Sweet ‘n’ Spicy? He held himself like an elderly mule, and moved about as much.
Until I arrived.
Seeing the pure sadness in his eyes, I knew I needed to take him.
And, of course, he was easy to load. It felt as though he didn’t care where I was taking him, and, for all I know, he didn’t. I could have driven him into a pasture full of wolves, and he wouldn’t have put up a fight.
Of course, I knew what had happened. He and Flowering Fennel had been inseparable, everyone in the ERRP community knew that. And, of course, losing his friend like that, it was bound to take the light from anyone.
I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to Fennel. I knew that he wasn’t put down on the track, but there were only whispers of what happened afterwards. Some say he was going through an expensive rehabilitation, others say that he wasn’t moved far before the inevitable happened.
His first three days, he was listless. He stood in his stall, head lowered, eyes half-closed. And nothing motivated him. Not a treat, not a scratch, nothing could get any life into his eyes.
On the fourth, I was passing with
Rhys, heading out onto the trail. I hadn’t put a leadrope on the silver black stallion - he was too timid to attempt anything out of the ordinary. However, as I walked, I realized that his hoof falls had stopped, and so I turned around, wondering what had happened.
To my surprise, Rhys had paused at Cayenne’s stable door, offering the saddened stallion a little nicker. To my amazement, Cay focused on the other stallion’s dark eyes, and his head raised lightly.
So, I pastured them next door to each other. Normally, Rhys would shy away from the pasture fences, but he stood next to the fence, sending an occasional whicker to Cayenne. It took another couple of days before Cay responded, but soon the fire of friendship took off.
It only took about a week before the pair began to play on either side of the pasture fence. It was great to see that Cayenne was coming out of his shell, but there was still a sadness there.
ＴＯＤＡＹ ＡＮＤ ＴＨＥ ＦＵＴＵＲＥBeneath me, the stallion shifted uncomfortably, unused to the feel of a heavier saddle or the cold bit in his mouth. His ears remained trained on me, even as we took off, starting slowly on the cross country course. It took him a little while to build up speed, and his stiffness and lack of body conditioning slowed him down greatly, but he seemed to open up with the speed of the course. I tried him over some smaller jumps, and he soared over them with ease.
He shows so much potential, and he’s really opening up. He might not be a champion for a while, but I’d be happy to work with him. I’m not exactly happy about the trouble that he’s starting to cause, or that he’s dragging my sweet baby Rhys into his pranks, but I’m thrilled that he’s coming out of his shell!
