This is a piece I did for a competition entry but I don't know if it won or not. :P Caitlyn's going in for a big race and it just about ends in disaster. When 'Wak On By' is mentioned, that's Caitlyn's race name. 'By-By' is for short.^^ Told in Caitlyn's POV.

It was just like any other race – tense, competitive atmosphere, jittery horses and nervous riders. I thought it was all going to go according to plan. I was the only one who was calm as I was led around, waiting for Ma'am to mount. It seemed an eternity.

The infield was a tourniquet of sleek racers, waiting to hurl themselves down the track. But, when the call for the riders to mount came at last, I had a big surprise – late rider change – Channing was to ride me instead. She'd always been riding Percy: - I was afraid that she wouldn't know my tactics well enough to ride me. But she seemed confident as she took up the reins. I had no choice but to trust her. Channing could sense my anxiety. She patted me gently on my shoulder. "It's okay, girl. Shh. It's okay. No need to be nervous."

"I'm not. I'm just concerned for you. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Sure. Don't worry about me, By-By. Just run."

I felt uneasy as I walked when the bugle sounded for the horses to enter the track. Good going, a little soggy on the inside but nothing too drastic to slow me – it had been raining a lot the previous weeks, but the track wasn't too bad. I sighed and chaffed at my bit, wanting to go. It wasn't too long before we were in the gates. The small door clanged loudly behind me and I stared through the bars of the gate in front of me, the muddy dirt track stretching out in front.

This was it – my first Tri-Horses Grand Prix. And I was determined to make an impression – if I couldn't be first, second or third didn't matter.

All of a sudden, the gates flew open, banged loudly behind me and the raucous sound of the starting bell faded as I pounced out of the gate and flew down the track.

It was then, and only then, I listened to the commentator and my heart plunged as I heard him say through the tannoy; -

"... And then we have Little Miss Fruit Cake on the rail, Walk On By in the midst of the field, uh and then it's Reveille's Boy advancing slowly on the outside – "

I didn't hear anymore. If Reveille's Boy saw me in the pack, he'd stop at nothing to win and I'd have to put up a real fight to beat him. Literally. Adrenaline flushed through me as I barged through the pack and led by half a length. Just then, as I flashed past the quarter pole, I heard two sharp whisks of the crop behind my ear. Channing certainly had her training. But those whisks were a bad sign – Reveille's Boy had seen me and was coming up fast.

Channing tried to urge me on, but I stayed out in front, now leading by two lengths. I knew Reveille couldn't outrun any horse, even the worst if they were too far away to start off with. So, if I increased my lead slowly, he'd have no chance. But once I decided I was out at a reasonable distance, I COULDN'T get cocky and think that's it. I had to keep up that speed otherwise I was toast.

Wind ripped my mane and it blew far from my neck as I carefully and slowly increased my distance away. Two and a half, three, three and a half, four... Okay four. Four lengths is good. Anymore would be unnecessary. But it was too little.

He easily caught up with me. I could feel him at my hindquarters, snorting furiously in an effort to keep up, throwing out his legs wildly in thunderous steps. Soon, he was right beside me. I'll never forget the evil glint in his eye as he shot a glance at me. Soon, it was a telepathic conversation of warnings and threats.

'So, you made it.'

'Shut up, mare. I'm going to win; you won't make it past the finish line.'

'Want to bet?'

'Just stay out of my way.'

'You know what?'

'What?'

'You are impressive...'

He snorted in suspicious gratitude and unsurpassed arrogance.

'... For a blockhead. Goodbye, Reveille.'

I burst away from him, pounding down the track, towards the home turn. This is where the track was at its worst. If I didn't slow down, I'd blow the turn and I really wouldn't get to the finish line. Channing knew this too. She tugged my reins, opening me out to the outside of the soggy mud. A feeling as warm and sweet and savouring as honey poured over my heart as Reveille slowed drastically as he raced lazily through the thick mud. I heard him grunt in frustration and growl. I smiled wryly and Channing pulled me to the rail as we entered the home lane.

My legs were burning like fire as we began coasting to the finish line. My eyes narrowed, my heart banged like a drumbeat and I felt that if I threw my legs much more, they'd fly off across the track! I was five lengths ahead but then I heard hoof beats behind me, careering down causing mini-earthquakes beneath my feet.

Reveille's Boy! Oh, shoot! It was like a cord had snapped in my head. Channing pulled me together and I whooshed down, with him gaining with every stride. I was nearly spent, but I had to go faster – I was almost there. I was slowing, I could feel it; my steps weren't as powerful, my movements were sluggish and my head was throbbing.

In the end, I won by a nose. As I'd just past, Reveille over took me. Almost a nanosecond later, something hard clipped my hoof. I fell hard on my knees and skidded along the dirt for a second before another cord in my head snapped. Channing! I had to protect her! Instantly, I threw up my head as Channing landed on my neck. I felt her grab two fistfuls of mane just as I sprawled out on the track and slithered to a stop.

The commentator boomed out, "Walk On By has won by a nose but went down instantly after crossing the line. Trackside officials are now coming out onto the track to see if Walk On By has suffered any severe injuries."

"C'mon, girl. C'mon By-By, get up!"

Channing was pulling on my reins in an effort to get me up. I scrabbled to my feet, but felt a shooting pain down my off-fore cannon bone. I could stand on it, so it wasn't broken, but it stung pretty badly if I tried to stand on it. So I didn't. Channing was alarmed.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay, By-By?"

"Wouldn't have the foggiest."

"Have you busted your leg?"

I winced as I laid my hoof to rest on the track. "Nope, but it's real nasty by my reckoning."

As I was led off the track, Reveille called out,

"Walk On By! This time you got a lucky break, but next time we meet, you'll just get broken! Count on it!"

"Dream on, Reveille's Boy! We'll see who gets broken!"

Everyone crowded round me as Channing halted me in the infield. Thankfully, I didn't have to put up with any of the track vets – they were all rough and evil tempered, probably by the drink they bought with the money they'd won from betting. Our local vet, Dr. Jacqueline Wildenstein, or Jackie as we called her, was there to see what was wrong.

After a while, she stood up and told me I'd ruptured a ligament. I snorted in anguish and disappointment.

"But what I don't understand," she continued, "Is how it is so badly ruptured. Any ruptured ligament is a threat to a horse, but this is unique in its severity."

Little Percy, who was standing beside me to support me, was confused by all the long words Jackie was using. "What does all that mean, Caitlyn?" he whispered at me. I looked down and winked at him.

"It means the he's seen many racehorses with a ruptured ligament, but he hasn't seen one as bad as mine." I brushed off the seriousness with a light-hearted laugh.

Jackie firmly bandaged my leg and put on a splint to support it. She then carefully applied my off-fore travelling boot. The Stable Manager applied the rest of the boots, threw on my sweat rug and fastened my halter. Whilst everyone was loaded on easily, I took about ten minutes to load. The journey was made as smooth as possible for everyone's benefit. I was glad that my first win of the Tri-Horses Grand Prix was the last race of the season.

In the end, my ligament fully recovered but I was put on six weeks box-rest. I'd have died of boredom if the stable hands hadn't hung a huge selection of things from the roof for me to play with or eat. I particularly enjoyed the salt lick and the plastic milk bottle.

I was pulled out for the next season but went to the track on non-race days to become fit again. On race days, I'd stand by the fence at the top of the field – after the fence is a cliff. You can see the track really well from there. I'd watch the race, snort joyfully when I saw a horse cross the line, then toss up my head and gallop away to join my friends.

Okay, that's that one then. If I get okay reviews on these two, I'll probably write and upload more. But until then, see ya round ! :)