(ummm) w o w.

[Snowflake]

Ouch! I cried, slapping her nose and jumping away from the large, intimidating black filly who glared ferociously at me. I examined the bite marks in my arm furiously. You witch. I glared back at her, daring to walk closer again and tighten the girth. This morning while I had groomed and tacked the filly up, trying to bond with her, she had been nothing but a pain in the arse. I scowled, rubbing my arn unconsiously as it swelled a little and turned purple with bruising.

Finally I had Rush all tacked up, and I lead her cautiously from her stall to where the mounting block was situated just outside the barn. James came over to hold her head while I mounted, cringing when he saw my arm. He smiled apologetically. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have bought her if I knew she was that mean. I grinned, looking at the bright side. Don't worry about it. She's just Rising Fury all over again.

He lead the filly cautiously to the track, letting us go once we were inside it's confines. Rush was walking briskly, on the verge of breaking into a trot. I held her fast, keeping her at a walk and bringing her down to a more comfortable speed. I watched, mesmerized as her muscles bulged and relaxed each time she took a step. I hadn't ridden a filly quite this powerful in a long time. Nor one so bad tempered and mean.

My arms were getting sore from the enormous amount of pressure the horse was putting on them. She leaned heavily on the bit, trying with a hint of desperation to get outside of my competent control. Ru-sh. I grunted, nudging the filly with my heels, asking her to trot. Her head shot up, and she bounded into the faster pace gleefully.

We went through the same phase at trot, with her hauling on the bit and me hauling on the reins. After ten minutes trotting, I pushed her into canter, only to have her roar into an uncontrollable gallop. I was thrown off balance, and as a result of not being ready for the filly to take off, she managed to yank the reins from my hands.. I desperately held on
as Rush raced for the turn at full speed, or so I thought. I suddenly realised, as I regained my balance and caught hold of the flailing reins, just how smooth, well balanced and downright comfortable her gallop was. I began to enjoy myself, urging the filly faster as we thundered into the stretch.

The wire flashed by, and I remembered with guilt how the filly hadn't been warmed up very well. I slowed her back to canter after approximately five furlongs of galloping, and we cantered the last three to the gap. Are you okay? James asked with concern. Yes.. I replied as I dropped to the ground. why are you smiling? That was an understatement. James was glowing. I think we've got something! He said excitedly, chucking me the stopwatch. I caught a glimpse of the time, and my mouth dropped open. I clutched at it, catching it before it hit the ground. He had timed our five furlong gallop - approximately, of course - and the time indicated that Rush Hour was certainly something special. Something amazingly fast. Ummm.. Wow. Was all I could say.