Chapter 3

Blackbird had now been at Sunstar Stables for a little more than a week. When he had first arrived his form had been nothing remarkable to look at, but now the muscles under his satin coat rippled with curves and indents; due partially to the increasingly difficult morning workouts. His personality was also beginning to change. Instead of the quiet, submissive individual he was originally, he was now beginning to gain more confidence in himself, and spoke his mind a lot more often.

As he was standing quietly in his pasture, chewing on new shoots of grass, he often found himself staring off at the horses being worked on the track. Did he look like that when he galloped down the homestretch? Did he have the intense focus he witnessed some have? Or was he just another expensively bred fall-out, one never destined to win? He also discovered himself thinking a lot more about what his life had been before Sunstar; the sad thing about was, however, that it wasn't much of a life at all.

Willow Springs was the one stable that no race horse wanted to be, but all his life Blackbird had known no other home. Despite the mistreatment and cruelty that went on there, from the very moment he was born his mother tried to give him the best life possible. She taught him kindness, and hope, and despite how bad everything might seem that eventually it would get better. She walked with a slight limp from an old racing injury, but he remembered fondly that her leg never hurt her enough to say no to a game of tag. The night Blackbird was separated from her was the loneliest and longest night he ever endured.

After being weaned, real training began. He was strictly taught how to behave on a lead shank, how to lift his feet, how to stand for the farrier, and what shoes meant to a domesticated horse. There were no second chances. For the first few moments he wore a saddle, he remembered how much he initially fought it, until it was beat into him that that's there are only two reasons a horse lives: to be ridden, and submit to people. After that "lesson", he never fought again.

Training to run was a painful endeavor. It wasn't a slow and meticulous process like it should have been, but rather hard and fast. If a horse didn't have what it took the first few seconds he was on the track, he didn't have it at all; and would be subjected to discipline. Thus Blackbird was commanded to start workouts at full speed, with no warm up, and was ordered to do so throughout the entire training session. It didn't matter to them if his legs ached when he was put back into his stall right after galloping all morning. It didn't matter to them how hard they beat him for being tired. It didn't even matter to them that he did indeed have some physical boundaries. Nothing mattered to them but money. No horse at Willow Springs was a living breathing animal; it was just a piece of property.

He thought about how his life had been back then, and how drastically it had changed in just this past week. Along with all the physical changes occurring in his favor, he was finally being satisfied emotionally too. For the first time in his life, he had discovered what a treat was, and how to ask for one. He had made friends, and maybe even enemies. He had a personality at last! He was an individual with feelings and talent, not just a husk of flesh to bet on. Not to mention his heart was filling with love for certain, palomino filly. He was happy for the first time in his life.

A deep nicker cut through his thoughts. It was Pheonix, walking up the white fence that separated the two pastures. He smiled as he stopped next to Blackbird, and glanced in the direction that the young colt was looking. "Beautiful isn't she?" Pheonix asked through smiling lips. Blackbird could all but nod, for he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Flight Angel was fully extended, galloping purposefully down the back stretch. A man had a stopwatch on her and was smirking from the rail. Her tail streamed behind her like a cloud trying fiercely to catch up with the rising of the sun. Her coat shone with sweat, reflecting ironically the same sun she herself portrayed. He was too far to look into her eyes, but knew from her posture that they were shielded by the glaze of intense concentration.

"Pheonix?" he questioned to the older stud.

"Yes Blackbird?

He paused for a moment, thinking carefully how to phrase exactly what he wanted to say. "I watch her train every morning out there, Angel I mean. I even raced against her the first day I arrived. And in her stall and out in the pasture here, she is playful and carefree. But when she is training or racing on the track, something about her changes. It's like she is in a world of her own, she doesn't play around anymore. When we were going side by side down that home stretch, even though I knew she would never hurt me, the way she looked me down frightened me."

Pheonix chuckled, and also seemed to weigh his words very carefully after the colt had finished. After biding his time by glancing over the horses on the track, he finally replied. "You see Blackbird; she embodies what a racehorse is supposed to be. She has a beautiful and loving personality when she is just being with her friends, but as soon as she steps foot on that track it's all business. She has no concerns, no drifting thoughts, not even friends when she is out there. The bottom line is, it's everything she is. She loves to run, and it goes much deeper than that."

Blackbird's face furrowed as he thought about what the stud had said. "But Pheonix, shouldn't every race horse have a mindset like that?"

"You would think so wouldn't you? But not every racehorse has the proper training to bring out those qualities. That's what makes the difference between a good racehorse and a great one. A good horse has the talent and physical ability, but a great racehorse knows how to harness and use it. Angel is a great racehorse."

Blackbird's mind raced to his own personal training at Willow Springs. If he had been given the proper training, could he of become one of the great horses? Was it too late to heal that old wound?

"How do you know which horse you are?" Blackbird inquired quietly.

Pheonix chuckled. "A time will come where you will know where you fall in that scheme of things. But if I were you, I wouldn't worry so much. You are quite a horse."

"Thank you."

"You remind me much of my young self, Blackbird. I remember asking myself the same questions, but no one could answer for me then. I had to learn on my own, and it was a long road of self discovery. I hope that my advice will take you places beyond where I could even go. But I'm not saying it will be an easy task."

Blackbird sighed. "Someday, I would like to be the kind of horse that you are."

"Well then colt, you're not very far from that now are you? I'll catch you around." He smiled and began to walk off. "And oh, if you ever need anything, I think you know where to go." With a quick wink and the flick of a tail he was cantering across the adjacent pasture, leaving Blackbird alone to think.

A short distance away, another colt was watching the scene unfold. His chesnut coat flicked with annoyance almost like thousands of flies were stinging his pride. Phoenix had never spoken to him, had never offered him any advice. This had to of been Flight Angel's doing. She could bend that older stud to do anything for her, were they not in love at one time? He stomped his foot with conviction. Tommorow, he would show the black colt what he knew about racing, and the little bit he knew that didn't have to do with racing at all. With in an instant he had turned tail from the fence, and his plan was set into motion like the rocking of his cantering body.

A/N: Sorry the chapter is so short, but I'm having a bit of writers block. And plus, not alot is going on in the story right now. Any suggestions would be good though. I really appreciate all the encouragement, thanks much.