Rain pounded the roof as Jeremy led me into the stable, my hooves clanking lazily as my long strides carried me a ways without to many steps. I nickered to the other stallions and colts in the barn. Few returned the answer, the others watching me with some sort of glint of anger in their eyes. They were jealous of me. I flicked my black tail at Wither, an old grey stallion who was always a grump. He snorted, his pink-tinted nose flaring. I smirked and walked into my stall next to him. Whiskey Quilt looked at me from my right.
"You've got spunk," said the four year old. "I haven't seen anyone mess with Wither like that." At first he seemed bored and was just trying to make small talk, but then his face lit up. "Keep 'em quite, okay?" I nodded, shaking my head slightly afterwards, chuckling softly. Wither started his evening grumbling and muttering. I rotated my ears to hear what he was saying. I swished my tail once at a fly before I listened intently.
"Darn little beast. Think he can win against Secretariat. Well, I'll tell you. He can't. He won't. He can't," the stallion muttered. I narrowed my eyes at the straw below me as I listened on. "I couldn't beat that Big Red. He won't beat that Big Red." He snorted lightly like he was reassuring himself. I took a look at the grey stallion. He lowered his head and nibbled at his hay. I took a step to my right to talk to Whiskey Quilt again.
"So," Whiskey said, "what was his muttering today?" I snickered.
"Thinks I can't beat the Big Red. I might not, but, I don't know. I think I'll give him a run for his money. You know they're getting the race planned already?"
"Yeah. I hear there's going to be a purse of sixty thousand or so. I wouldn't think they'd do that if it was only you two running."
"See, I heard that any horse that would be crazy enough to enter could, so…." I let my sentence trail as I watch Whiskey Quilt's unmoving brown eyes. He blinked and looked away. I could hear his hoof click on the pavement like substance of the barn. Whiskey had a strange issue of eating the hay on the floor. Whiskey positioned his head over his stall door. I let out a huff and did the same. "Where's Arrow?"
"Arrow to the Heart-"
"Ooh that name gives me chills-" I said before Whiskey continued.
"He's gone for the week. He went to Hempstead for the Hopeful Stakes or something or other." Hmm. I pawed the hay. The evening was the most boring time of day. It was about seven when we would hear Jeremy come with our oats and grain.
Two Hour Time Skip
The echoing noise of footsteps on the barn's floor woke me. I shoved my head above the stall door and looked down the aisle where Jeremy was holding a can of feed. He took a shovel thing and began to scoop the oats out and place it in our buckets. I nickered, "Thanks" before ducking my head in the pail and tacking a few mouthfuls, even though humans don't understand. This really really infuriates me.
"Hey!" I jerked my head up as I saw Steven coming up to me. "He took my halter and shoved me backward before he came in. He took a vile out of his rain cloak. I twitched my ears in annoyance. I snorted, my nose flaring. I was tempted to head-butt him, but kept my cool and rolled my eyes to Whiskey Quilt. He let out a small laugh and continued eating. I heard a strange swish as Jeremy pored the bottle of stuff into my fodder and oats. I whinnied shrilly as my nose tingled with a strange smell. Steven flung his arms up and retreated out of my stall quickly. I could sense his fear no matter how hard he tried to hide it. I sniffed at the oats. Grr, I wanted to growl. I ate the oats, a strange unearthly smell lingering around the pail. I thrashed my tail around, my knee raising high as I pawed the ground.
Soon after, I felt a surge of energy. I lunged at the door, my hooves flailing in the air as I reared. Whiskey looked at me with a raised brow before he fell back to sleep. I shook my head. Then I noticed Wither glaring at me. Hmm, I thought again. He looked away. I heard car tires squeal and go into park, the engine dying. Steven came from the car, a whip in his hands. I peered at him questioningly. Maybe we were going for a ride? But it was raining. And dark and those two principles don't go well together. He opened the stall door. I stood still for a second, confused. Steven thrust the whip at me. I squealed and reared, throwing my hooves at him. I didn't mean to actually hit him, or hurt him, but before I could do anything, he came forward and then he was suddenly lying on the ground in pain and bleeding. I sniffed at the wound on his arm before backing up, fear in my eyes. I didn't have meanness in me. I wasn't like the well-known Black Stallion. I couldn't hurt people. I could—hate them, but not physically injure them. But I just had.
Light sprung from the bulbs all around the barn. I saw people flood into the barn. I backed up until my hind pressed against the wood wall. My eyes rolled in fear. The humans crowded around Steven. I saw my owner come up to me. He laid his hand on my snip.
"What am I going to do with you?" he asked. My eyes widened. I moved my nose forwards, motioning to the bucket. He went over there and examined the grain that was left. He cleared his throat as he announced to everyone, "It wasn't Criser's fault. There was Ibeynium Calasponen in his grain. I think Steven just doesn't want to ride this horse anymore. Was planning for an accident by giving him extra energy. I guess he figured tonight was a good time to make it happen. He didn't have the guts to tell us, either that or he won't have a job," my owner peered down accusingly at the jockey. I looked over them to Steven, amused. Isn't he a strange one? I nickered to myself as they all bustled out, dark circles under their eyes. It must be around midnight, I mused to myself as they left, sleepy-eyed and crabby.