Folksong; Pretty In Pink

[Melissa]

"Cain, what the heck?...whose's blanket is that on Song?" I asked the young boy when he appeared at the track gap leading the bay Thoroughbred filly with an pink, and not just any pink but an bright bubble-gum pink, blanket thrown over her tack to protect it from the chilly weather. I stared at Folksong, who pricked her ears forward eyes bright with complete trust in the person she'd known for the past two years, torn between bursting into laughter and slapping him for putting such a thing on my filly. "What Mel? She's a girl, and girls like pink. Don't they?" Cain said with an straight face and I completely lost it. Clutching my sides with my hands I laughed until the tears came, Song flicked one ear towards the young boy while Cain just stared at me like I was insane.

"Take her back to the barn and replace the pink blanket with her black one. I'll be waiting." I said to Cain once the laughter had subsided. Grumbling, Cain swung around and tugged at Song's lead, "What was that?" I questioned and he shook his head, "Nothing, whatever you says Mel, you're the boss." was his reply as he made his way back to the barn with Folksong in tow. My eyes never strayed from the elegant form of the bay filly, carefully studying her movements. She'd run an tough race in the Juvy Fillies finishing second to Sayonara and I was slightly concerned about how she'd come out of it. However there was no sign of lameness or stiffness in her stride and she was eating good.

The blood tests following the Juvy Fillies had been clean and the vet had passed Song with flying colors so now it was time for me to start working the sweet bay toward her next start. Folksong skittered sideways, head raised high and tail swishing. A cheeky and playful filly around me, she was cool and reserved around anyone else. Prince's full sister I had huge hopes that she would bring back the good name that the black Dawn Treader Cup winner had had before retirement. The brother and sister had similarities but only a few were shown between them. Prince was unruly and studdish, Song was sweet and reserved with poise. The black had the speed and loved to show it, Song had the speed but it took a bit of work to bring it out of her. She was a little prissy and didn't get along with many people other than me. Well, that was a bit inaccurate to say, Song did get along with other people but she was more open to me. Prince was a horse who required a strong hand and Song responded more willingly to a softer hand.

The muffled sounds of Song's hooves against the grass made me lift my head and my brown eyes brightened at the sight of the beautiful, small bay filly. She was one of my true favorites and even with her less spirited nature the filly was one I held close and expected a lot from, she seemed to be up to the task of living up to those hopes as well if her last race was any consideration to her potential as a racer. Rolling one eye when an colt, I couldn't tell if it was FS Mockingbird or IGS Intervention enjoying an romp in the paddock through the fog but some galloping horse in the distance drew the attention of the petite bay filly and she whinnied out, nostrils flared as she danced. Cain moved with the filly and eventually she settled down.

Cain absentmindly dropped the filly's lead once he had halted Song next to the gap. Prince or Faith would have bolted the second it happened but not Song, she waited calmly, her attention focused completely on me like she'd been trained to do. "Song, come." I said in a soft voice, casting an disapproving glance in Cain's direction with a slight frown but the boy didn't even catch my glance, he stared off into the distance past the track. Without an single glance back at Cain Song stepped forward, and firmly nudged the pockets to my Whitebrook barn coat. "You'll always be my girl, won't you Songs?" I murmured stripping off the black blanket to reveal the filly's complete racing tack set and the elegant bay whickered in reply. She'd been tacked up by an professional so obviously Cain had not been the one to tack her up today, I noted as I checked Song's tack. Pulling down the stirrups I leaped lightly on to the filly's back. Swishing her tail against her hocks, Song sidestepped, "easy." I crooned to the two year old and she soon was relaxed beneath me.

"Let's go babe." I said, my voice barely above an whisper as the wind picked up, blowing up dust and creating small dust storms across the track. If the wind picking up wasn't bad enough, the temperature dropped again. Shivering lightly in my stirrups I squeezed Song into an trot to warm up her muscles. As much as I hated how the weather was doing, the conditions would be good practice for her should similar conditions occur in an real race. Striding out with head stretched in an relaxed position Song had her ears pricked forward in genuine interest. Today would just be an easy walk-trot workout for the bay filly to build her strength and stamina up. I didn't want to push her too hard, too fast after her maiden start. She was much too special to just be rushed too hard and too fast this early. The sun appeared from behind an cloud as we made our way along the turn of the track and entered the backstretch of the mile long track. Swiveling her ears back and then forward Song let out an soft whicker at the appearance of an fellow horse coming into view. I chuckled and lovingly brushed my hand over Song's mane as I posted to her smooth trot along the outside rail. After two full laps of the track at an trot I took her back to the barn and dried her off well.

After hooking her to the hotwalker for her cool down walk I grabbed an coke from the refrigator and leaned up against the white siding of the training barn. Inside were some of WB's racers such as GS Poetic Justice, FS Mockingbird, Murder Afire, and Faith In Shadows among several others. My eyes never left the bay filly as she circled with the hotwalker, every step went unmissed as she made her way around it, one big, brown eye constantly shifting to me. By Thoroughbred standards Song wasn't all that big, being an shade over fifteen hands but she was very compact and had plenty of muscle where she needed it.

Switching off the hotwalker I reached for Song's leather halter and the elegant bay rocked back to a halt, thrusting her muzzle into my pocket once again in search for a treat. "Silly girl, lets get you settled in your stall first." I murmured with a chuckle unsnapping the hotwalker tie from the halter and leading the filly toward the barn. Pricking her ears forward happily Song pranced and I smiled, resting one hand against her neck, causing her to turn her head and look at me. She would do well once she started racing more consistently I knew that much about lied in store for me and my beautiful Thoroughbred filly.