FLARE

Silken, mahogany coat shines as the late morning sunlight shines onto it. Muscles ripple underneath a satin coat, with even the slightest of movements. Deep chest draws soft, easy-going breaths as the stallion edges his way around a dirt track. On top of him, a light jockey perches on the stallion's back and hunching over his withers. Flare moves with such elegance and sheer majesty, it was hard to believe he wasn't a Thoroughbred. The arched tail flailing behind him like a shadow keeping up with him was a dead give away. Also the dished dial. He was so broad and brawny, Flare looked every bit of a racehorse.

Flare responds as his bugboy gives him more rein, the leather-textured strip slithers against his lathery neck. Switching leads in a flash, Flare plunges forward with great strength and ability. Nothing could stop him now. Flare grits the steel bit within his maws, going faster and faster until it seemed as though the bones all in his legs would shatter. But, what's this? The bit is being pulled against his gums! Flare refuses to slow, but the jockey is nearly standing in the saddle to slow him. Reluctantly, Flare drops his speed. Bucking, Flare crow-hops to unset his jockey. Flare wanted to run more! He was speed savvy.

Best Move

the forth the fifth
the minor fall
the major lift

The stallion was still standing in his corral, head lowered and eyes closed. His pelt was damp looking, and in all actuality it was, since last night there had been a light yet long lasting drizzle. His chocolatey bay pelt had darkened a shade from the water, and he hadn't even realized it. He hadn't even woken up yet, and by now the sun was already overhead. Sure, he always dozed late when he could, but in the protection of a stable. When he'de really get his eyes open and see what was going on, he'de be a bit taken aback, to say the least...

Suddenly the distant sound of pounding hooves reached his ears and he jerked awake, dark eyes fluttering open. Huh... was what ran through the dazed equine's mind as he turned, and at that moment he realized how damp he still felt. On and off showers, maybe... Ah, who was he trying to kid? He was still left out in this dusty old corral. And of course, his pelt was riddled once more with a fine layer of dust. He snorted at this, taken aback you could say. Wasn't he worth it to his new owner to at least be kept in a stall? Nice, warm straw; cool, refreshing water; a shelter-- suddenly his mind was taken away from those things as he looked off in the distance, spotting the other horse galloping away-- on a track? He hadn't even noticed that when he got here. He must have been too occupied with everything else around here. By now, he was mentally kicking himself. Feeling a sense of jealousy building up within him, he took long strides to the edge of his corral, to the closest point by the track and other horse. He still felt far away though... This would have to do.
Neighing as loud as he could, he gave his head a brisk toss. He was full of energy after being confined in this small space. He had done nothing but sleep, eat hay, and drink dirty water. Surely his owner hadn't forgotten him, had she? He shivered at the thought, or from the chill he suddenly got.

Once his neigh was finished, he flicked his tail behind him and began to excitedly trot back and forth along the perimeter of the fencing. Oh, he had plenty of energy to burn after spending so long in here. His legs were restless, he needed something to do!

FLARE

The mahogany stallion half-reared when he heard the call from the stallion. Flare never really did like loud sounds, and it was surprising he was a racehorse. Flare stood, nostrils dilated, ears perked. Turning Flare's gaze connected with Best Move's, and Flare felt a distant embrace. Tearing his glare away, Flare followed his jockey off the track and onto the grass turf, legs moving mechnically underneath him.
They walked for nearly five minutes, the steam emitted from Flare's body steadily stopped until all that remained was a layer of ivory foam around his neck, chest and shoulders.
Finally, Flare was given liberty and released into a corral to graze. But Flare had no intention on grazing, instead he wanted to see the horse whom had called to him on the track.
"You," Flare called in a stallion's baritone voice, trotting towards the edge of the corral, nearly fourty feet from where Best Move now stood docilely. Flare's body was sleek with water after being sprayed off and wiped dry, muscles rippling underneath his warm pelt. Flare looked at Best Move with amusement, looking at the stallion's similiar, brawny appearance.

Best Move

The stallion was still pacing about in his corral. Dust was kicked up each time he stopped and spun around, lightly collecting on his bay pelt once again. It wasn't like he cared about that anymore, though. He was usually kept clean and spotless. His friends would probably refer to him as a disgrace if they saw him now. Luckily they couldn't, and he knew he didn't know anyone around here. That was a good thing.

Snorting as the other stallion was led back towards the corrals, he came to a halt and lifted his head high over the top rail of the fencing. His own nostrils flared to take in the other's scent as best as possible. He never understood why his last owners sold him. He had been happy and carefree enough there. And why had they sold him here? He just had no clue, but it angered him to say the least. He had been forgotten.
His ears were suddenly laid back as he pounded his fore legs against the ground, hearing the voice of the other horse. He even knocked at the fencing a couple times with his hooves out of pure restlessness, boredom and a bit of irritation. "What?" he replied, narrowing a black eye. His tail flicked behind him as he seemed to size the other stallion up. That horse looked nothing like his fellow Thoroughbreds at home.

flare

The Arabian watched Best Move, wondering why he looked so much like a auction horse then a racehorse. If it weren't for those undeniable muscles and conformation, Flare could've been deceived to believe so. But this horse had something more then just flawless body and iron muscle, he had that look that could claim the Triple Crown itself. Was this horse a champion, or just so hoedown horse that just had the looks?

Flare looked up at Best Move, flaunting his body as the horse edgily replied. Flare's ears went back, and his nostrils curled at the stallion's raw temperment. Flare knew that, typically, stallions, like himself, could be savage creatures with the attitude of a cactus. To add to it, Best Move wasn't displaying the loviest attitude ever. Flare snorted, looking at the stallion. "Was it you who called out during my workout?" Flare quizzed haughtily, ebony ears pulled forward. Flare furter surveyed the stallion, his black-eyed gaze swept across the horse's legs, that seemed to be made like a frieght train. Muscles rippled underneath a silken coat, that was quit dust, you could say. Despite the fact the horse was a bit malnourished, Flare could see the fiery spirit and undeniable will-power. This horse had to be something from somewhere.