Back in her stall with her groom Willow was enjoying the feeling as the adrenaline was massaged out of her limbs. But there was something wrong. Her groom was more reserved than usual. It was as if she was turning something in her mind and that she was not quite sure what to do with it.

Finally, when everything else was done, the groom walked up in front of Willow and looked her in the eye. She held up an 8” leather hobble with clips on both ends. “She has instructed that you be hobbled.” She looked up into Willows face as she spoke. Then she held up the hobble and with an end in each hand turned it from a straight line to a U shape. Willow could see in the center it had been cut almost all the way through. Only a few strands of leather held it together. “She will come for you tonight. Be ready. But don’t move too fast.”

The groom fastened the hobble, stood and gave Willow a kiss on the lips. Willow almost lost her balance in surprise. Then the groom was gone latching the gate behind her.

What was she going to do? The woman would think she was hobbled. That would give the element of surprise, but once it was used she would have to deal with the disadvantage of not having arms or hands. Sometimes she really hated that part of her existence. The woman was mean and sadistic. If Willow made her mad she could really hurt her. But given her nature she would really hurt her even if Willow was compliant. She remembered being helplessly strapped in her stall with her legs spread while the woman used her riding crop on her. She remembered watching the woman cane her groom, at least several steps of severity above what had been done to Willow. She did not know what was coming tonight, she did not know how it would end, but she did know she was not going to go quietly.

Willow had had to be very careful not to prematurely break the hobble. It needed to look intact when the woman came in. She also needed to be able to react quickly, but she could not lay awake all night. She had a race to win and now she was sure it would be in the morning. That is why the woman was coming now. She wanted to make Willow lose the race. Willow sat at the back of her stall with her legs in front of her and her back against the wall. Then she tried to sleep.

She may have slept, but she didn’t think she had. She heard the sound of the gate opening. She sat quietly watching. It was dark enough that the woman would not be able to tell if her eyes were open or closed. The woman stood in the open door of the stall. She appeared to be alone. That was a relief. Willow had been concerned that she would have help overpowering her. Even her wimpy looking little slave could be a problem. The woman had one of her precious canes in her hand. She was quietly slapping it into the palm of the other hand. But that hand also held several coils of line. She intended to secure Willow and thrash her. That was clear. This was going to be tricky. Willow knew how easy it was to clip a line on the many anchor points on her person. A leash to anything on her could easily be secured restricting her movement severely. But the woman thought she had the element of surprise and she thought the dangerous legs were hobbled.

Willow continued to feign sleep. The moonlight was playing off the woman’s face and Willow could see the smile. The woman took a line with a clip in her right hand and started to stoop down toward Willow. This line was meant for Willow’s collar. A simple click and the contest would be all but over. But before the woman could reach her with the clip end of the line Willow, using both feet together, kicked the woman just below the waist. She howled in pain as she was propelled backwards only catching her balance with the sides of the gate.

Willow jumped to her feet. She kept them close together so the woman would believe she was hobbled. “You are going to really regret that.” The woman spit. “Nice of you to stand for me. Too bad you are hobbled. I bet you would really like to kick me now.” She smirked as she stepped forward and started to thrash with the cane. Willow was not quite ready for this. Blows rained down on her shoulders and her arms. She turned slightly to the side for protection, but that opened her back, buttocks and breasts. The woman thought she was secured by the hobble so she was busy attacking instead of attempting to further secure her prey. Willow knew that could change at any second, and if she clipped a line to her all would be lost.

As the woman pursued her to the back of the stall Willow ducked slightly, pulled her feet apart breaking the hobble line and then drove her shoulder into the solar plexus of the woman. The woman had been in mid stroke when this happened and her cane snapped in half. She dropped the half she had been holding and grabbed for her stomach. Willow then delivered raking kicks to the woman’s shins. She had been looking for a knee, but the effect of the metal horse shoe on the unprotected flesh was still catastrophic. The woman fell backwards into the corridor and wrapped both her arms around her severely injured shins.

Willow moved forward and started to measure a kick to the face. With the power in her legs and the horseshoe on her foot it would at least break a jaw if not kill her. Willow cocked her leg and then stopped. The woman had not taken any effort to protect herself. She looked up at Willow. Willow could see the fear in her eyes as Willow contemplated delivering the coup de grace. But then she did not. The fight in the woman was gone. She rolled slowly to her side, crawled and then clambered to her feet and limping on both legs did her best to run from the stable.

Willow followed her for about three stalls, then she stopped, snorted loudly and pawed the floor three or four times with her right hoof. The commotion had awakened the other ponies and they had come to their gates to see what was going on. As the woman had disappeared into the night there was snorting and whinnying and stomping of hoofs from all around. Willow held her head high. She flipped her mane and slowly walked back into her stall. The door remained open, but she had no intention of going anywhere else. It felt strange seeing the door hanging open. She used her chin to pull it closed; but without the latch it didn’t stay closed, although it only remained opened by several inches those several inches were very bothersome. Her door was not as it should be. But it was mostly closed. That at least felt better and Willow was able to lie down and sleep. She did not expect the woman to be back tonight.

Willow could tell that her groom was worried as she very slowly opened the gate. Did she expect to find her dead? Maybe she thought she would be gone again. But the sound woke her and she sat up and smiled. The groom’s eyes were wide and her mouth was open. “Oh my god.” Was all she said.

Willow looked down at her body. There were huge red welts everywhere. On her stomach, on her chest, on her breasts, even her sides and legs. That was funny; she did not remember that many strokes and they did not hurt. At least they did not hurt yet. Willow knew she was not supposed to talk to her groom, but she looked her in the eyes and said: “Don’t touch anything. Go get my trainer.”

The groom ran from the stall. She didn’t even take time to close the gate. In only minutes she was back with Willow’s trainer. The trainer urged Willow to stand with a finger through the ring in her collar. Then, still holding the ring she turned her to one side and then the other observing the damage to her charge. Then she looked around the stall. She saw the two broken pieces of the cane. She stooped and picked them up. She held the fat end of the handle up to her face examining the markings. It appeared these canes were monogrammed.

The trainer gave some directions to the groom and left with the cane pieces in hand. Willow’s groom looked very concerned, but Willow gave her a big smile and then a nuzzle. The groom then gently stroked her face and hair. She then spent several hours carefully cleaning and applying ointment to her many wounds. She was surprised to feel the sting now with the tender touch, but the salve felt very good. She wondered how this was going to affect her ability to pull the sulky. After all, she did have a race to win.

When her groom finally fit her bridle and bit and led her from the stall Willow knew that all the other ponies had already left the stable. As she left the stable she could see that it was a very bright sunny day. The warmth of the sun with a gentle breeze from the ocean felt good on her skin. She should not be feeling so happy. She had numerous stripes from the application of the cane. Some of them, showed intense rage, having cut through the skin. She had injured the woman and she felt like she had prevailed, but she had not finished the job when she had the opportunity. Would she later regret that? It did not matter, as angry as she had been at the woman, and even though she had been defending herself, she could not find it in herself to deliver a potentially fatal blow. She would just have to face up to whatever came from the confrontation. She was sure next time the woman would bring help. But right now she was not going to worry about that. Right now she just felt good. She felt victorious and she planned on using that feeling to triumph.

Misty stood, reins wrapped to a post near the trainers’ paddock. She looked at Willow with concern as her trainer led her over. Misty was one of the ponies that had seen Willow drive the woman from their stable, but she would not have seen, or then known, the extent of Willow’s injuries. She would not know if Willow could still run. Her expression changed the minute Willow looked at her and they made eye contact. Willow’s smile jumped to Misty’s face. They were able to rub cheeks before the trainers guided them apart.

Even though Willow looked frightful with red stripes all over her body the trainer hitched her to the sulky along with Misty and quickly took them out onto the training track. Today they worked mostly on a small track practicing starts and stops and pace changes. Precious time could be lost if the pace change was not closely coordinated between the ponies. They ended the day with a good four mile run on the large practice track followed by a mile trot and about a fifteen minute walk. Although the woman had delivered many slashes to Willow’s skin with her cane most were evidenced only by surface marks. As the day had begun Willow had felt some sensitivity in a few muscles, but the as they worked she felt all the knots work out. Willow thought she was ready for the race, but she was happy that it had not happened that day. She wondered if it had been delayed because of what had happened.

Even though it had been a good day on the track Willow was happy to be back in her stall with her groom. She was carefully washed and her skin oiled. Her boots were removed and her leg muscles massaged before being treated with liniment. The groom’s touch was soft and caring. Willow could not resist pushing her head against the groom to encourage her to stroke her head and neck. Willow had prevailed the night before, but it was because her groom had warned her and had sabotaged the hobble. If the groom had followed the woman’s instructions Willow would have been helpless and at the mercy of that evil woman. Willow wondered how many others had been so mistreated at the hands of that person. Maybe she should have finished her off when she had the chance. She doubted she would get another chance.

It was a sleepless night. She had not been hobbled, but she half expected the woman to return with help in order to exact her revenge. Willow sat against the back wall of her stall much as she had on the night she was attacked. She drifted in and out of sleep, but any noise (there were many in the stable); any movement (again not an uncommon thing); jerked her back to consciousness. Thankfully the woman never came. In the end there was just morning and the return of her groom.

The next day the training schedule returned to normal. Willow had trouble concentrating and she was tired from lack of rest. It was not a good day and the trainer laid the whip on her far more than normal. The marks on her skin from the attack had turned dark in color making the new marks easy to distinguish. Misty glanced at Willow from time to time betraying a worried look. Willow had been fine the day before, why was she now, a day later, so off her game? Willow remembered the groom strapped tightly over the frame while the woman worked her legs and buttocks with her cane. The woman could bring plenty of help and would have little difficulty rendering Willow helpless. Then she would be able to exact her revenge. She had given the groom over fifteen strokes of the cane just for being the fall guy when the woman left the gate open. What would she want to get even for the injuries that Willow had inflicted on her, not to mention the humiliation? If Willow closed her eyes images of her strapped over the bar and being beaten flashed into her mind. She could not keep pace, she could not change pace, and she kept missing steps.

After a very frustrating morning for the entire team the trainer took them to the break area and tied them near the rail. Willow could see that he was here. Now she felt even worse. He had seen her terrible performance. He would have to be very disappointed with her. Maybe there wouldn’t even be a run off race. Maybe she and Misty would just be sold off. Willow looked over at the pony attached to the hansom cab nearby. The pony stood quietly looking straight ahead. Her bridle was equipped with blinkers that kept her focus to the front. Her posture was straight, but not really erect. She did not look mistreated, but she did look docile, just a gentle work pony. Her life would be simple. It might even be easy, certainly not as challenging as the life of a racing pony. But where was the reward? Where was the recognition? Willow did not want to be that pony. She was a racing pony and she needed to prove it. She needed to put the woman out of her head and get back to work. If she failed, and was then sold the woman won. She was not going to have that.

Willow could tell that the trainer was talking to him. “How is she?”

“Physically she is fine. But mentally, that is altogether another question. You saw her this morning. I have never seen her exhibit such slow response and lack of concentration.”

“Maybe she just needs a good long run. She is going to look frightful for a while.”

“The marks will fade.” As Willow continued to eavesdrop – something that had become a favorite activity – she noticed a dark haired woman walking over to her trainer and him. It was the PPA woman. That explained the presence of the hansom cab. Willow was not sure where she had been prior to approaching her trainer and her owner. As the woman approached the conversation about her stopped and both of the individuals turned toward the PPA woman.

“I think I have concluded my investigation.” The woman had her clipboard in her hand but was holding it by her side. “We have no record of any strange betting so it does not appear that she was attempting to manipulate the odds. But as you know any interference with the race protocols is a very serious offense.”

“I don’t understand what she was thinking. These are not docile work animals. They are responsive, but we work for spirit and they can be very dangerous if you do not know what you are doing. She is lucky she was not more seriously hurt.” He was shaking his head as he spoke.

“She has been suspended from access to any of the race training areas for at least the next year. We are not going to revoke her commercial stable license but it will be on probation. We have not yet assessed any damages. That will be up to you to make a claim if it appears that your property has been damaged.”

“I understand. She may have cost me a fortune in the damage to this one. I guess we will find out tomorrow when we race the two contenders.”

“I hope that is not the case.” He and the woman shook hands and she walked back to her cab.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow was the elimination race. Willow knew she needed to get her head back in the game. She had no intention of being eliminated. She fully intended to win the elimination and then to be the winner of the big race. Besides, it sounded like the woman was gone, at least from here, at least for now. It also seemed that so long as Willow remained a racing pony she would be out of the woman’s reach. But what if she lost? The woman still had a stable. If Willow and Misty lost their position as racing ponies they could end up in the hands of the woman. They really needed to win the elimination race.

The rest of the afternoon was better, much better, but still not at the level Willow knew she would need to win. But her mind was eased and tonight she would rest. She was well conditioned, she was not injured, and she was going to put everything she had into tomorrow.

It was morning. Willow tried to remember what she and Misty had talked about last night. Willow had meant to tell her all about the conversation with their owner and the PPA woman, but she could not remember her conversation with Misty. She had been so tired. Maybe she had just fallen asleep.

Willow and Misty Night were hitched to their double yoke sulky. They were given a warm-up trot around the training track and then they were directed to the main track. They had seen this track, much of it was visible from the training track, but they had never been taken here before. It was absolutely beautiful. The surface was firm dry dirt, potentially very fast track conditions. There was a turf inner track but they were kept on and guided around the dirt track toward the stand area.

The circumference of the track was defined on the inside by a white rail at about nipple height held up by curved posts about every half chain (eleven feet). Twenty posts would equal a furlong. Another rail encircled the inner track. Inside that was a beautiful garden with ponds and flowers and decorative stone. It presented a restful contrast to the frenzied action that would occur around it. A pony stood hitched to a small utility cart in the garden just inside the inner rail. A team of four slaves worked near the cart in the garden. They were naked except for their chains and cuffs. Feet were held in a relatively close hobble of about 12”. Their wrists were connected with a single chain that passed through a loop in the front of their belt. The chain was long enough to allow them to almost extend their arms fully in front of themselves. They appeared to be weeding the gardens. Each of the slaves was connected to a ring in the back of the cart by a light chain attached to each collar. This chain was about 25 feet long and the slave had to carefully maneuver it over the plants to avoid damaging anything. They would work from the cart then all of them including the pony and cart would move up to a new spot. There did not appear to be any overseer directing their actions.

There was another team and sulky on the course. Willow recognized them from the training area and the stable. They had the look of proper racing ponies – long strong legs, well tanned from exposure to the sun; a long mane of straw blonde hair with matching tail; wide strong shoulders with their arms disappearing into a strong case that held their arms and hands uselessly behind their back. Willow remembered seeing the name of one of them on a stall door. It was Llamerei, the name of a strong mare from Arthurian legend. Willow had wondered a few times why some of the ponies had such strong historic names while her name evoked no sense of power at all. She liked her name, she thought it fit her, but the names of great horses of legend seemed to be everywhere.

There was a wave of fear. She had not known that this team was the other yearling team. They looked like they had been here a long time. They were clearly better trained than Willow and Misty. This was going to be very tough.

The trainers lined the carts up next to each other approximately a furlong from the start line. Llamerei’s team had the additional advantage of the pole position. On a signal from the line the two trainers started their teams. They were kept together in a trot as they approached the line halfway down the straightaway in front of the stands. Willow wondered how far they would race. No one had said anything to them, but after all they were just ponies, why would anyone talk to them about such things anyway? They would start when signaled to do so; they would run so long as their trainer bade it so; and they would keep running until signaled to stop. They would not pace themselves. That again was the job of the trainer. The trainer would set the strategy and see that it was properly executed.

They were across the line and the trainer signaled the advance to the run. The other team had transitioned smoothly and was ahead by several breast lengths. Willow and Misty were holding their own, but the turn was coming. They would either have to turn wide next to the other sulky extending the radius of the turn or slip to a position behind them. Willow would have thought that they would stay wide and just use extra energy to keep the distance short, but the trainer’s view was different – and only one view mattered. Willow felt herself being eased back with a tension on the reins. She was then moved in behind the other sulky. She was so close her steps were landing where the leading sulky had just been. If it stopped, or even slowed, she would run into it.

As they moved through the turn the trainer held the position.

Once they came out of the turn the trainer eased them to the outside. Willow and Misty started to move up on the outside, gaining until Willow was running near the front of the opposing sulky, just behind the ponies. Suddenly there was a sharp pain in her left haunch. Willow lost a step and they fell back a few feet. She realized that she had been struck by the driver of the opposing sulky. Willow, now dead even with the driver looked to her left and snorted her displeasure at this unsportsmanlike conduct. She wanted to get past them and out in front, but the turn was coming and her trainer eased her back, again falling in behind the other team.

Again, they maintained this position through the turn. As they came out of the turn the trainer moved them wide once again, but it was only a faint. It drew the other team away from the rails. The trainer then moved Willow and Misty back to the left and then forward taking a position between the rail and the other sulky. Willow was almost touching the rail she was so close. They had eased forward on the other sulky, but its driver had pulled as close to them as she could. Misty was now running in the space between the opposing sulky and the left pony of that team. The result was that Willow and Misty could neither go forward nor back without colliding with the other team and it’s sulky.

They kept this position through most of the back stretch. Willow was sure as they came to the corner the other team would now have to move outside giving her team the rail through the corner. But even before they could begin negotiating the turn the left wheel of the opposing sulky hit the back of Misty’s leg. Misty was knocked sideways into the compartment of the other sulky. That driver was propelled free onto the track. The other sulky then pulled free causing Misty to fall to her right side. This twisted the yoke pulling Willow off her feet and dumping their sulky onto its side. The yoke arm to Willow’s left bent and she and Misty lay in a tangled mess from which neither could extricate themselves without help.

Their trainer picked herself up, dusted the dirt from her uniform and came forward to inspect her charges. She started with Misty’s legs. Blood was evident on Misty’s right leg where it had impacted with the other sulky. The trainer carefully examined the wound, then Misty’s body. Next she moved to Willow, again checking her legs first. Other than the fact that she was suspended in the air and not able to touch ground she felt like she was fine. Finally, after carefully inspecting both ponies, the trainer righted the sulky as best she could. With the bent yoke arm it was necessary to release Willow from the yoke before the sulky could sit flat on its wheels on the track. She stroked first Misty and then Willow’s hair and softly uttered words of encouragement.

The other trainer, without a word had gotten up and walked around the track following her team who had finished the race without her. Willow angrily looked after her. She wanted to run forward and kick her. She had acted unfairly. But her trainer led Willow to the back of the sulky and attached her reins there. Then the trainer climbed into the seat and with Misty held to a walk, she guided the damaged sulky back toward the barn, Willow did what one does when reined to something, she followed along behind.

This was not fair. They had lost, the other team had finished the race and they had not even finished, but the other driver had cheated, first by striking Willow when they were trying to pass on the outside and then by causing a collision. It was clear that she and Misty were the faster team. They should have been the winners, but they were not. Willow’ mind was filled with the talk about selling the losing team; that only the winner would be able to race in the yearling race. The trainer did not say anything to them as she removed Misty from the yoke of the sulky and led both ponies back to their stalls. It just wasn’t fair. They should not be sold, they were the better team and they should be able to race, but there was nothing Willow could do but follow her trainer, with her head drooping, back to her stall.

The inside of the stable was quiet. All of the other ponies were still out on the track or in the training areas. Willow was sure this was it. Someone would come for them and take them away from their home. Willow did not want to leave her stall. She felt comfortable here. She felt secure here. She had even been attacked and had successfully defended herself here. This was her home.

There was a sound in the stable. Someone had come. Willow went to the gate to see what was happening. A woman in a white coat, Willow thought she recognized her from the first day on the island. There was another person with her, obviously an assistant. The assistant was carrying a black bag, similar to that used by doctors, but a bit larger. They entered Misty’s stall. Willow moved to the dividing wall to hear what she could. The woman instructed her assistant to remove the boot and was obviously inspecting the injury Misty had sustained. Willow heard her asking for things such as disinfectant, cotton swabs, ointments, gauze. There was nothing sinister here; she was the vet come to care for Misty.

Willow saw that the trainer had arrived. As the three left Misty’s stall the vet talked to the trainer. “She will be fine. I want the boot off for a day, the wound cleaned daily for the next four days and light service during that period. She will have a nasty bruise on her side, but there appears to be no internal injury.”

“I will see to it.” Was the reply.

The vet then opened Willow’s stall and entered. Willow shied away, she was not sure why. Her trainer came forward. “Shh girl, it’s ok, she is just going to make sure you are ok.” The trainer gently took her bridle in her left hand while stroking her with the right. Willow then let herself be led forward to the vet.

The vet carefully examined her starting again with her legs.

“She may show some bruising, but she seems to be fine. Let her rest today, but give her a good workout tomorrow.”

All three left closing Willow’s stall behind them. Willow pranced around her stall. Her legs felt fine. She looked herself over. She looked fine. She wished they had removed her bridle and bit before leaving. But that was a job for the groom. She wondered how Misty was doing. There was obviously some injury that would take a few days to heal.

The next day Willow was taken out by herself. The trainer put her on a single sulky and worked her hard. It felt good. She saw the other team on the track and was very pleased when her trainer had her run past them. Willow snorted and defiantly bobbed her head as she came by. She hoped that they noticed her. Even alone she was much faster than they were.

For the next two days Willow had been afraid someone was going to come and take them away at any moment, but the nature of the training did not feel like they were about to become service animals.

It was four days before Misty and Willow were hitched back as a team. Misty had been out on the paddock each day, but had not been harnessed to a sulky at any time. Willow had watched her limp a little the first couple of days, but she was not limping now. Thank heavens she had not come up lame. As much as Willow enjoyed running solo with her sulky, it felt wonderful to be back in tandem with Misty.

Willow could not wait until they were out on the track running together. Misty did not seem to be favoring her leg at all, and they were making very good speed. After two laps of the track at speed the trainer brought them to a trot. Willow realized how well conditioned they had become. They had just run two miles and she was not feeling the least bit winded as she and Misty maintained a good trot around the track.

Willow could hear it before she could see it. Another sulky was coming up from behind. She and Misty were wide on the track and it passed them at a run on the inside. It was the team they had raced. Willow wanted to go after them. She wanted to show them just how much faster she and Misty were, but there was no signal from the trainer. But at that moment, even though there was no signal, Misty lurched forward. She was trying to break the trot and run. Willow was all for that and quickly joined in.

Willow felt the backward pressure on the reins, but this time she was not going to obey. She shook her head back and forth, snorted and pushed it forward only increasing the pace. Another pull from the trainer received the same response. Willow could tell Misty was doing the same. They were about 20 feet behind the other sulky, but they were closing. Then, the trainer seemed to get into it. Instead of pulling back on the reins she started to slap them up and down urging her ponies forward.

The other trainer became aware of them as they closed up behind to where Willow’s steaming breath was on the opposing trainer’s neck. She looked over her shoulder into Misty’s eyes. They were wild, filled with fire and determination. The trainer turned back and urged her team to gain more speed.

Willow and Misty’s trainer tried to close to the inside, but it was quickly blocked. They moved to the outside and as before started to gain on the leading team. Willow could tell that now they knew that they were there and the other team was straining at the yoke trying to pick up speed. But, in spite of all their efforts Willow and Misty were gaining. As they came up to the turn they had drawn almost even. From Willow’s position on the left she was shoulder to shoulder with the right pony of the other team. From a distance it would look as if they were actually touching.

The other team had the advantage of the corner, and during the race Willow’s trainer had pulled her team back to trail. Willow did not want that now. She was ready to take them in the corner, even with the longer arc of the radius. In order to pass that message to her trainer she strained even faster moving into the lead by a head. As they started into the corner the other team regained the lost ground and started to ease forward. Willow dug deeper. She looked to her right and saw the fire in Misty’s eyes. If she were on the other team she would have been terrified by the fierceness of this look. Willow and Misty were gaining. Even though they were running a longer distance they were gaining.

As they came out of the corner they were half a length ahead of the other team. Within a furlong that turned into a length and a half and they were now on the rail with the other team eating their dirt. No achievement in Willow’s life had felt as satisfying as this. But she and Misty did not slow with their lead. They kept the steam on. She had never moved so fast with the sulky. She had never seen a team move so fast. As they came up the stretch she could tell that there was excitement at the training area. Whatever anyone there had been doing they had all stopped and all eyes were now on what had just occurred on the clubhouse turn of the training track. As they flew past the stands, Willow and Misty did not even look to their right. They kept their heads straight ahead concentrating on maintaining their speed. They did not slow until they had made the far turn and were in the back stretch. The other team was so far behind them at that point that there was no longer a race.

The trainer signaled them to drop to a trot. This time they obeyed. Willow wondered what they would do when the other team came by again, but that did not happen. Their trainer reduced them to a trot as well and kept a good distance between the teams. “Just as well.” Thought Willow. If they had tried to pass they would only have received a brand new ass kicking.

When they finished the lap at a trot their trainer guided them into the rest area. She quickly dismounted and huddled with the other trainers, and someone else. Willow was feeling really good, but then she saw that he was there. He had seen them. He was listening to the trainers speak, but he kept looking over at Willow and Misty – and he smiled at them. He was happy with them. Even though Willow was standing straight and erect, which had become her normal posture, she felt herself find just a bit more height. It was an achievement and everyone had seen. Many eyes were on her and Willow found that she liked being watched. Finally he left the group of trainers, walked over to Willow and Misty and patted each of them on the head. He slipped a treat into each of their mouths. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet. Nothing had ever seemed so wonderful. Willow lowered her head and nuzzled him. He didn’t pull away or move back, he stayed stroking her head for some time, and then he smiled and patted her on the flank.

“Fine job. I knew you had it in you.” He said looking back and forth between Misty and Willow. Then he turned back to the trainers. They were talking again, but Willow was not paying attention. She felt like she was floating. The sun was shining, there was a light breeze that gently moved the tops of the trees, everything was green and fresh and the perfumed smells of the jungle flowers made every breath of air a delight.

Over the following weeks there was an increasing air of excitement in the stables. Willow could tell that the big race was coming, exactly when she did not know. Ponies do not have calendars. Ponies do not pay attention to days of the week. Their routine was pretty much the same every day.

Grooms were slaves so they did not have days off. Morning was marked by the light of the dawn, but Willow knew that her groom would be there every morning and every night to care for her. She did not know what else the groom might do during the day, maybe clean her stall, because it was always clean in the evening, but just like the sun, the moon, and the stars, her groom was always there to care for her. She trusted her groom completely; she welcomed her groom’s hands on any part of her body; she knew that her groom would carefully examine anything that might look troubling, like a good cut-man to a prize fighter; and just like a prize fighter her groom would massage and oil her body feeling for and removing any knots. Willow didn’t have to tell her where it hurt, somehow she just knew.

As the training continued Willow and Misty got better and better. Their timing and coordination smoothed and became instinctual. Willow did not need to look at Misty. She did not need to try to anticipate Misty’s moves, responses or actions. She seemed to know what Misty was going to do before Misty did it. And Misty knew what Willow would do. It was if there was some mental connection between them. Observers would marvel at the almost perfect synchronization of every action. Not only did their gait match but their legs seemed to move with the precision of a top ranked drill team. Even their breathing fell into perfect syncopation.

Willow didn’t talk to her groom. She didn’t talk to anyone. People might talk to a pony, but they did not talk with ponies. Willow had learned that. Not only was it very hard to talk with a bit in your mouth, but any attempt to talk to a trainer usually ended up with a quick snap of a ridding crop or the end of a rein to the top of a breast. That hurt, but it was also humiliating because it clearly chided her for doing something about which she knew better. Her groom wouldn’t strike her, but she would shush her if she tried to talk. Willow and Misty didn’t even talk anymore. Willow was not sure when they had stopped. Willow would sleep next to the wall dividing their stalls. She was more comfortable being able to hear Misty breathing but words and speech were somehow a part of another world and she no longer would even think about formulating sentences and speaking. If they were outside their stalls they would often rub cheeks, but there were no words exchanged.

There were other ways to communicate. No one had told her how, but they had just developed, and it seemed so natural. Happiness and pleasure were demonstrated by lowering the head, with the chin forward, and tilting it to one side or the other. If a trusted person were nearby they would be rubbed with the side of the head. This might be accompanied by whinnying. Sadness or pain was demonstrated by lowering the chin and turning slightly away so that the pony’s shoulder was pointed toward the object of the emotion. There might be low moans. Anger had the chin pulled tight, eyes furrowed and locked on the subject, nose wrinkled, and the hoofs placed with the left hoof six to eight inches ahead of the right, possibly with some pawing of the ground. This was accompanied by loud short snorts, usually through the nose. It was not wise to disregard this signal as a strong kick could be the reward for not paying heed. A good trainer or groom would know to move to the pony’s left side speaking in soothing tones, then move in grasping either the bridle or harness with the right hand – firmly, but not aggressively – while stroking with the left hand. Fear could be seen in the chin pulled back in, the head down and shaking from side to side, but the eyes still on the subject. This would be accompanied by short steps away from the subject of the fear that would match any attempt to approach by that person. A desire for attention was shown by moving the head up and down and whinnying, this would be accompanied by pawing at the ground two or three times with a hoof.

Willow loved and trusted her groom. She was always happy to see her and always felt better when she was near. However difficult the day’s training might have been just the sight of her groom would make her feel better. She didn’t feel the same affection for her trainer but she trusted her completely. She somehow knew that her trainer had her best interests in mind. Willow would do her best to respond as expected and please her, not just because failure could bring the pain of the whip, but even more so to avoid the pain she felt inside when she knew she had somehow disappointed.

Willow’s groom was excited. Such emotions are contagious and Willow was feeling it as well. Her body harness had been removed. The form and fit of the new harness was the same as the old, but it was shiny and gold. There was, of course, a matching bridle. Not only was the leather gold colored but so were all of the fixtures. They may have actually been brass or perhaps gold plated, but to Willow she was being adorned in the crown jewels. Two large plumes, almost three feet in length, forest green to signify the color of her stable were fixed to brackets at the back of her new harness. Her boots had been replaced with golden colored boots. The material was soft. It would not need to be broken in.

Willows hide had developed a fine golden hue. It was soft and supple from the careful daily attention she received. Any blemish or bruise was spotted with body make-up when she was oiled. Blush accented her cheeks and areola. She felt – she knew – she looked, radiant. She was a jewel of the stable and she could not wait to have everyone see her.

When her reins were finally attached and she was led out of her stall she saw Misty just ahead. As Willow had expected, Misty had been regaled in similar finery. She looked like the finest show pony. They would look beautiful, but they were not show ponies and this was not a parade. They were racing ponies and Willow knew that this was the race. All of the sweat, all of the sore muscles, all of the training, the timing, the teamwork, the precision – it all came down to today. Today everyone would see just how good they were. Today they would make him proud.

She didn’t know how many other teams there would be, she didn’t care. One or a hundred she was intent that she and Misty would be at the front. She could not remember anything in her life before that was as important as winning this race today. There was not a rationale for why this was so important. But Willow did not conduct rational analysis anymore. She did not consider why she felt the way she did or why did the things she did. In fact, her thoughts were no longer analytical. She had instincts that had developed and these instincts now governed most of what she did. She had responses, feelings and emotions. They were direct, easily reached, and neither hidden nor suppressed. Her feelings and reactions lived in the present – yesterday no longer mattered and tomorrow never fogged the moment. The future was pretty much limited to the end of the task at hand. But today, right now, there was anticipation, something she had almost forgotten how to feel, today, right now, it was exhilarating.

There was a fine golden colored sulky with forest green plumes matching the ones worn by the ponies. Its design and structure was identical to the one Willow and Misty had used for training. The balance and the stress were identical. There was nothing new that needed to be learned. There were no adjustments that would be required. Willow’s trainer took the seat of the sulky assisted by Misty’s trainer. They were clad in forest green jerseys and shorts emblazoned in gold, with a distinct golden palm tree on the back.

As they left the stable and strutted toward the entrance to the track Willow could hear the sound of the crowd. As they cleared the stable structures, even though they were blocked by the hedge row along the back of the track she could see people and movement in the stands. There is a sound to crowds that give you a feel for both their size and their mood. This was a big crowd and it was excited. The sound alone made Willow feel stronger. She looked toward Misty, she was looking back. Misty nodded her head up and down and gave her bay colored mane a shake. Her eyes were bright, she stood tall, and Willow could tell that Misty was also feeling the energy of the crowd.

At the edge of the track near the turn closest to the stables a gateway had been opened. Two other teams were already lined up just on the stable side of the gateway. Willow and Misty were maneuvered in behind them making them the third team in line. Other teams then lined up behind. Willow could have seen them from the corner of her eye if she turned her head to the side, but she could not get a good look or clearly make out how many there were. She focused back on the two teams ahead.

Each team reflected the splendor that their respective stable wanted to present. Their harness was fine leather with gleaming highly polished fixtures. Their sulkies all looked new, perfectly shined and elegant. On the sides of each sulky was a number. Willow’s team was number 9. She liked nine. It was a good number. She didn’t know why she liked it. She was having some trouble remembering what nine really meant. Most of the things in her world now existed in smaller numbers. Each team was plumed with feathers that presented the color or colors of their stable, forest green for Willow’s team. The two teams ahead bore blood red and teal.

After a time the teams ahead began to move forward turning to their left onto the track. Willow could see that the stands, which were all on the far side of the track, were quite full. As the teams were guided to their left Willow could see that there were three more teams behind hers, again resplendent in fine gear and color. A total of six teams had entered the track.

The line of sulkies tracked around the far corner back toward the stands. They were moving clockwise – the opposite direction from normal racing, but they were not racing, only showing off the teams for the assembled fans. Each pony held her head high, occasionally shaking their mane. They walked tall and raised their legs high, proud to be on parade. Each team wanted to impress the audience, to instill confidence that they would be the winning team.

After completing the turn, the line of teams continued to strut the entire length of the straightaway so that every fan could get a good look at them. When they had passed the stands and entered into the clubhouse turn the teams were turned, one at a time from the back reversing the order until they were all set in the proper direction. They were then guided forward; the first team took up the pole position and stopped. The next team moved to their right and stopped there. The third team then positioned on the end of that line. Willow and Misty’s team, fourth in this reversed line, was moved back to the inside taking the pole position but for a second line behind the first. The last two teams then positioned to their right so that there were two lines of three teams each.

Having pole position would normally be good, but with a full line of teams ahead and two additional teams to the right Willow and Misty were completely boxed in. They would not be able to make any quick break forward unless the team directly in front of them moved forward quick enough to let them advance before one of the other teams on that line could close to the rail. This was unlikely, but Willow was not thinking of strategy. She was only thinking of being fast – very fast. Her driver would plan the strategy. The trainer knew the strength of her team, she probably had information on the other teams; she would assess how to play it. Willow trusted her completely so she did not have to think about what to do. Her job was to follow direction and be fast – very fast.

Willow recognized some of the other teams. Directly in front of her at pole was the Nordic palomino team. Willow knew they liked to make a fast break and run. It would be interesting to see if they tried to take the lead and hold it for the entire race. That would be quite a challenge. Willow wished that she and Misty were up on the first row so they could burst ahead of the dreaded palominos.

The teams were held in position on the track for a long time. The teams did not know why, nor did they care that betting had not yet been closed at the track windows.

Finally Willow saw movement ahead of her and her reins were clicked up and down, a signal to move forward. All six teams started to walk. They held their position in line perfectly. Then, they were signaled to a trot, still holding their position. They had not reached the starting line. As they had practiced many times they would move to the start line at a trot and then change to a run as quickly as possible.

Willow knew the signal was coming as they approached the midpoint of the straight away, but she was well trained, she did not anticipate the command. But, when the command came, she and Misty began to run, finding their pace and rhythm within several steps. The other teams started smoothly as well. There was no false start and the race was on.

As Willow had suspected the palominos moved forward quickly taking almost a full length on the other two teams in their line. Willow and Misty were moved forward, but did not attempt to fill the gap left by the palominos. It was the right decision, the powerful looking sorrels, the next team in the first line, moved toward the rail, seemingly happy to trail in second place at this point. Willow did not know this team at all. She had never seen them before. They must have trained at another location. Third on the front row was the Asian team with their shinny black manes flashing in the wind. They moved in slightly, closing the gap, but moving ahead of the sorrels on the outside. This opened a gap between the three teams in the first row and the other two teams in the second row. Willow’s driver moved her team to the right into a position behind the blacks. The other two teams moved in toward the rail.

From two lines of three each the teams were now grouped with three teams on the rail and three more to the outside. Willow and Misty were team number two on the outside. This positioning was held through the turn with the teams on the outside losing only a small amount of ground due to the longer distance created by the turn. As they came out of the turn into the backstretch the palominos tried to open a lead. They pulled away and created a gap between themselves and the sorrels. The blacks were not able to keep next to them and ended up moving into the rail behind. This left Willow and Misty on the outside with no team in front. They were moved forward. Not far enough to challenge the leader, but positioned alongside the second team now running on the rail. The pace felt very good. Willow did not feel pushed, she knew her driver was measuring the speeds she knew they could attain and hold against the overall distance of the race. By the clubhouse turn the field had spread and Willow and Misty were moved in toward the rail behind the blacks that were now running in second place.

As they came out of the clubhouse turn the palominos were in the lead by a length followed by the blacks with Willow and Misty right on their back. Willow and Misty were moved to the outside and picked up the pace. It was a challenge to the blacks and they picked up the pace starting to close the distance to the palominos in first. The teams were in front of the stands and the crowd was cheering loudly. Willow did not know the position of the other three teams, and she did not care. She did not look back, but instead concentrated on holding her pace and moving forward.

If the maneuver to the outside had been meant to challenge the blacks it had not succeeded. As the three leading teams reached the turn the palominos were in the lead with the blacks right behind them and Willow and Misty next to the blacks on the outside. The driver once again eased them back to take up a third position for the turn. Willow could now sense that the balance of the field, consisting of sorrel, chestnut and champagne teams, were at least two lengths behind the three leaders. This did not necessarily mean anything. There was a lot of race left and some of these teams could be late finishers. It was way too early for such a team to make its move.

As the lead teams came out of the turn the blacks made a move to the outside and challenged the palominos down the backstretch. The palominos picked up the pace slightly, but they were losing ground. Willow’s driver moved her bays to the outside of the blacks adding to the pressure. They were moving faster now and Willow could see the palominos straining. She knew they were well conditioned and that they were a very fast team, but they seemed to be having real difficulty with the current pace. By the midpoint of the straight away the blacks had pulled into the lead, although not far enough to close to the rail. Willow and Misty were on their outside, but slightly behind – almost even with the palominos.

As the blacks pushed their lead forward Willow and Misty were urged forward still behind them but now ahead of the palominos by a head, still gaining. By the time the teams reached the far turn the blacks had moved into first position with Willow and Misty right behind, the palominos dropped back at third.

While these three teams were at the rail a new challenger had emerged from the pack. A pair of beautiful chestnuts was moving up on the outside. They must have started on the back stretch, because by the time the other three teams moved into the rail for the clubhouse turn they had moved up on the palominos on the outside. Willow’s driver instead of holding to the rail through the turn eased the team out to the right. If the chestnuts had been able to close up on the turn they could have boxed Willow and Misty in behind the blacks. In order to challenge in the final straightaway it would be necessary to have room to the right of the blacks. Then the driver encouraged Willow and Misty forward starting their move on the blacks even before the corner had been completed. It would be a push to the finish of about a quarter mile, longer than the final sprint that they normally practiced, but pretty much required by the tactical situation.

As they came out of the turn Willow and Misty had been able to move up next to the blacks’ sulky. This maneuver had forced the chestnuts wider to the right giving the three teams their position for the final dash to the finish. The palominos were trying to push forward but at the rail behind the blacks there was no place for them to go. The best they could hope for would be second if the blacks pushed and they could stay behind them.

The driver became even more insistent. Willow felt the touch of the whip and knew that it was now or never. She was beginning to feel the effect of the pace but she was not going to let up now. The blacks, to their left, were ahead by a head, the chestnuts, to their right, were behind by half a length. It was now a sprint to the finish.

Halfway to the finish line the blacks began to lose ground but the chestnuts had now moved ahead. Willow and Misty (the bays) seemed destined for second place. But their driver was unwilling to accept second place. The reins were snapped, she was urging them on and Willow was pretty sure she was using the whip although adrenaline was pumping so hard that she could feel nothing. Willow could feel the sulky pulling forward on the right. Somehow Misty was finding more speed (or Willow had been losing some) Willow responded. She could see the line ahead. The crowd was roaring, but the sound seemed to be a great distance away.

The blacks were now at least two lengths back. The chestnuts were neck and neck with the bays. Willow could tell because they were almost perfectly blocked from her peripheral vision by Misty. Willow concentrated on being able to see the other team across Misty’s back. The finish line was coming. Willow felt they were gaining – was it enough? Did they make it? It had been very close. The roar was ear splitting. The crowd was going crazy.

The driver slowed them and then brought them to a trot. She took them up to the turn before taking them back to a walk. Willow felt good. They had performed well, she knew it. Had they won? She didn’t know. They were turned at the corner and walked back along the track near the audience. The blacks were now walking behind them. Then there was a huge roar. The results had been posted. Willow still did not know if they had won. She didn’t know where they posted the results. But she and Misty were being guided to a grassy circular area near the finish line. Then she saw him. He was standing in the circle. He was smiling. As Willow and Misty approached he took Willow’s bridle in his hand and guided them into the circle and then around to face the crowd. The crowd was cheering.

Willow looked into the faces of the adoring audience and she was very happy. He had not given her a treat like he usually did when he was pleased with her, but she could tell that he was pleased, he was patting the side of her head. Then two grooms approached. Each was carrying a large flower garland in the shape of a horseshoe. As music struck up the grooms placed the horseshoe shaped wreath of flowers around the necks of the two happy bays standing in the winner’s circle. Willow and Misty had won. Was it the flowers that smelled so sweet? Willow did not know. What she knew is that she did not want to be anywhere else. She did not want to be anyone else. She was as happy as she had ever been in her entire life.