A Snappy Song

A Snappy Song
Snap Daddy and Madeline Walker, Song Of Ascent and Christopher Descartes

For the first time in a while, Rosaline Myers had felt a smile spread across her face. It had been early morning, the clouds thick and grey in the sky, promising a brisk and foggy spring morning, unusual around this time of year. The air had been sweet with the smell of wet grass and humid air, and all about Blue Cross the horses had begun to awaken, and grooms and stable hands rushed about preparing for the day’s events. It had been a long time since Rosaline had been blessed with the vision, and seeing it again only helped to lighten her heart and tickle at her throat.

Thomas Lux, one of her oldest friends and her assistant trainer, appeared behind her, his usual bright smile on his face. “Ready to go look at them?” He had asked her, and she had been unable to fight the large grin that had resulted from his words. “Of course I am. I can hardly wait,” She had admitted to him, and his smile had softened at her words ever so slightly, his hand reaching up distractedly to tug at a few stray strands of hair on his head, “Well, let’s go then. Surely you’ve waited long enough,”

The way down to the track had been a familiar one, yet several things had changed. Where once a weathered and worn dirt path—carved by the constant stampede of horses—had lead the way down to the track, it had since turned green with grass after it had fallen to disuse. Thomas had tried to convince her to let him cut it with a lawnmower, but she had refused him, determined that in time once again the hooves of horses would force it back to the dirt it had been.

As they approached the track, the figures of Christopher Descartes and Madeline Walker came into view. When the stable had shut down, the entirety of the staff had separated to different parts of the country, searching for new work. By some miracle, Rosaline had managed to convince them to come back, though relations between everyone where still strained and awkward. As she and Thomas approached them however, Madeline gave her a smile, as did Christopher after a short pause, and it had been enough to assure her that things would eventually, somehow, be okay.

The main event approached quickly, and the small talk exchanged between the four people cut off as Louis Gerry, the head groom, and Alexander Descartes, the head trainer, led down the two new juveniles Rosaline had decided to purchase under Thomas’s heeding. At first, Rosaline had been beyond hesitant, as she had come to understand a certain stigma about horses that lacked pedigree, and the two juvi’s Thomas had showed her had been anything but blue blooded. “They have good hearts,” He had told her when she had made her doubts known, “That’s what makes for a good race, it’s more than just lineage. Give me a horse with a strong will and a good heart over some blue blooded descendent any day,” He had told her, and she had wanted so badly to believe him, so she had gone through with it.

Her first impression of them had not been good. The filly, a black thoroughbred, had been gorgeous, but the moment Descartes had come to a stop with her she had slumped against the man drowsily, her head lolling limply as she had attempted to rest. The colt, a dark chestnut, had been sharp and alert and strong, with an impressive hind quarters. He had been tiny though, easily the smallest horse at the stable. Thomas had given her arm a quick squeeze as he had observed the anguish that had flooded over her features, and had stepped forwards quickly to address the two horses.

He had made his way over the black filly first, his hands stroking against the horses mane as he had led her forwards and jolted her awake, a small amused smile on his face. “She sleeps all the time. It’s really weird, but it doesn’t affect her in the slightest, I promise,” He had told the group a bit hesitantly before he had walked over to the little chestnut, “And this guy, well, he might be little, but wait until you see him run,” He had told them earnestly, and had found the light laugh Madeline had given to be encouraging before he had finally allowed his eyes to rest on Rosaline once more, silently asking with his eyes for her opinion.
“They’re different,” She had said immediately, her eyes traveling between the two young horses. She hadn’t know what she had expected Thomas to bring her. She knew how unrealistic it would appear to imagine him walking in with the next Apollo Bear, or Predator, or Paradise Island, but she had been unable to help herself. The loss of the Blue Cross stock had taken more than a simple physical toll on her, and she missed her old horses fiercely. They had been gone now, having abandoned her just as she had been forced to abandon them, and they would have to move on separately from one another from now on. “Different can be good, though,” She had told Thomas when his face had fallen, and had offered a small smile as she had stepped towards the sleepy filly, her hand reaching out to brush the silky black mane.

“That’s Snap Daddy,” He had told her as she had pet the filly, and she had giggled quietly to herself over the name. Snap Daddy indeed, the filly could barely hold her head up for a minute without trying to succumb to sleep once more. “This is Song Of Ascent,” Thomas had then said, allowing a hand to rest on the little chestnut. Her heart had warmed at the name, as had her eyes as she had taken in the golden form of the colt. “Let’s see them run,” She had finally said, and Thomas had simply nodded, a smile forming, before he had gestured for Madeline and Christopher to mount up.

In truth, the horses had surpassed all of her expectations. The instant they hit the track they had seemed to transform. The sleeping filly jolted into a state of awareness, her head rising and her gate smooth as shed had loped along, a perfect picture of beauty and graze as she had cruised along the track, her rhythm perfect and strides huge. The colt had seemed to grow bigger as he had stalked along, his legs pushing him forward with quick, hard strides as he had kept pace with Snap Daddy. The pair of them, while completely imperfect halves on their own, formed a bizarrely perfect whole as Rosaline watched them enter into their element, and seemingly take flight.

When they had come racing by once more, Rosaline had barely been able to contain her glee. “Well,” Thomas had said, watching her from the corner of his eye, his face uplifted, “What do you think?” He had asked, his hands gripped tight to the wooden rail of the track. “I think,” Rosaline had started, her eyes fixated on the beauty of the two juveniles, “I think that everyone better watch out. Blue Cross is back.”