Disclaimer: I don't own the Black…:0 …:
Chapter 14
"Wake up. Wind, wake up!"
Someone poked me in the side. I let out a throaty whicker and ignored him or her.
"Wind, wake up!"
Splash!
Now I did wake up. In fact, I jolted awake. Cold water had been poured on my face, and now, little rivulets were trickling down my cheeks, dripping off my nose.
Uh hhuhh…I nodded sleepily and submitted to a very thorough grooming before being pulled outside to be tacked and ridden.
It wasn't because I was tired; almost a week( 5 days, actually) of rest after the Preakness had me back in shape, with the tiredness gone and the pain of the scrape a distant memory. No, it wasn't because I was tired.
It was because of the dream. I'd began having it…I don't know…just sometime along the last week, or maybe…this week…or maybe…umm…just recently.
It was good dream.
I was still trying to remember what had happened in it when we came in from the workout.
I'd been running. To where, I don't know, from where, don't ask me, why I was running, I absolutely have no idea.
But it was somewhere back home, because there had been miles and miles of grass. That was the first thing I was sure of.
And then, the black stallion had appeared again. We'd been running together. That was the second thing.
And that was also the last.
I was running. Running who knows where. There was fog all around me; so thick I could practically feel the moisture on my skin. I couldn't see anything.
And yet, I could see me running. That was weird.
I knew I was running, and yet it was like I was floating above, just watching me running, and at the same time, I could feel the earth under my hooves feel the cold…
Hard to run all I want. Hard to go faster. It was like moving through water, running through mud; you run, but you move sluggishly. Something was holding me back. I flung up my head, trying to get it off.
No good. I became angry. I tucked my head and tried to go even faster.
That something holding me back fought me.
The fog lifted. I could see! There was sunshine all around. I was running on green grass. But this was not the grass in my paddock. This was not the grass in any human field.
Something was different. The wind came. It blew across my face and I breathed it in.
That smell. That wonderful smell.
Where was I?
The wonderful smell came again. It was very familiar. The sweet smell of the wind…
I was home! But not back in my meadow, with Mother and Northlight and the others.
This was in the wild, open range.
But this was unfamiliar country. I'd never seen these rolling hills before, nor the trees, the land…
This was different. Even the mountains were different. But somehow, I knew it; felt it in my bones; I knew this place…
Only…
There was someone. Someone coming to meet me. Someone very familiar, someone very big, someone very bl–
BANG!
I jerked awake. "Wha–?"
BANG!
"Hey, wake up!"
I shook my forelock away from my eyes, trying to clear my mind. I was in a stall. What stall? I'd been running–
Oh. Oh yeah. Oh right. The stall on the Metal Bird.
The drone of the engines filled my ears again, the soft whirring, the metal clankings...
"Wind? You ok?"
It was Sir Peppero. He was in the stall next to mine. And he'd woken me by kicking my stall wall.
Even though I couldn't see him even if I put out my neck, his voice sounded concerned. Worried, even.
"You were thrashing back there. I–I thought you were having a seizure. So I woke you up."
I was thrashing?
"You don't have to worry. It was nothing." I kept my voice low. Steele was in the stall on the other side of Sir Peppero's. If he listened carefully, he would be able to hear what we were saying.
And I didn't want that.
I didn't want Steele to think I was weak.
And I didn't want him to know that I was afraid.
Afraid of what? Of losing? I certainly wasn't afraid to lose. It's a part of life; if you win, you sometimes have to lose. And if I was ever afraid before a race, it wasn't because of my rivals or because of losing; it was being afraid at the thought of what might happen if I lost.
But I wasn't afraid of the dream either. In fact, I looked forward to nights, to when I would be sleeping, dreaming. The dream had reminded me of home. And I was desperate to cling to what memories I had left of the meadow. I was very, very young when they took me from the wild, and I'd spent most of my life in captivity. The wild was all but a distant memory now, something I thought about when I had spare time.
Now, I couldn't even remember what my mother looked like. I would remember that she was black, and that she had a white star, but that was all. Try as I did, I couldn't remember her face.
I was afraid of what the dream meant. Was it a premonition? Was it a shadow of what would happen in the future? Did seeing the wild mean that I would go back home? But then, Moon hadn't been with me in the dream. Did it mean that I would escape while she would be left behind?
And what about the black stallion? The big, black, Arabian stallion?
We'd been running. Running for our lives?
Maybe.
Or maybe not.
I don't know.
But as we were led down from the Metal Bird that had swallowed us up and was now disgorging us, (Thanks for the ride; it was quite enjoyable despite the fact that we were in almost total darkness, there was a droning sound every single second, and our legs were stiff from standing in a stall for who-knows-how-many days. Did we taste ok?) and as we were loaded into vans and brought to the Belmont Park stables, I pushed away the thoughts and the uneasiness. I needed to focus on winning this race.
I wasn't going to let Steele get first place all because of some nightmare.
If the dream could be considered a nightmare.
Belmont day dawned bright and clear. At least they didn't have rain like back at home.
Weather conditions were favorable. The track was nice and solid, not too hard, (which would have meant a lot of jarring bounces and thumps for the jockeys) nor too soft (which meant lots of squishy, squelchy slop for us horses, and a mudbath for the humans).
This time, not like the Derby, pre-race nerves hit me early. Morning, I'd been pacing in my stall. Good conditions for me meant good conditions for everyone. All the others would be in tip-top shape too.
Post-parade time… try-to-bolt time…and finally, loading time.
I waited tensely. I'd drawn no. 4, right in the middle. That was ok. The not-ok thing was that Galilean was no. 5, and Steele was no. 2.
I turned my head sideways. Steele was glaring, shooting You've-already-won-two-races-I dare-you-to-win-this-one looks at me.
I could practically feel his loathing. Thanks goodness there were metal bars between us, or it would have resulted into another fight.
I turned away to study Galilean. His eyes were glazed over again, like in the Derby, and his brown head swung from side to side, slowly…sluggishly, not like us, held high, stiff, alert.
A whistle sounded. And from that moment on, it was like everything was slowed down. The gates burst open and we surged out.
I was seeing everything in slow motion. One stride…two…
My mind had gone numb. And blank. The rail flashed by s-l-o-w-l-y. I could see the humans on the grandstand, their faces and clothing blobs of color.
We were going fast, so fast the wind was whistling in my ears and almost stinging my eyes, yet at the same time…I don't know… slow. Yes, that was it: we were going very fast, too fast in fact, that if we weren't careful, I would be burned out soon, but I was still seeing everything slow.
It was either that or I was going crazy.
I was in the lead. Something was funny. Somehow…I don't know. Something was wrong.
I tugged for rein. Chaya held me in. My pre-race nerves erupted into violent anger. Nervousness, tenseness, uneasiness jumbled themselves up, mixed them selves, and resulted in anger.
I was not happy.
I was angry. Angry for being held in. Angry for not being let out to run.
I fought her. It became a game of tug-of-war. She wouldn't let me have my way. And all the while, I was running, flying down the track in the lead, the others a few lengths behind me. My anger was growing by the second. Pretty soon, I was going to explode.
Everything was still in slow motion. Chaya finally let me out a notch. I accelerated even farther.
Good. Now I was happy.
The happiness swelled inside me like a bubble. I felt light and there was this on-your-toes feeling. Like I was a bird, like I had wings, and like the next rush of wind would carry me away.
We were now at the rail. I rolled back an eye.
There was a black shape inching up! Steele! He was already at my flank.
The bubble of happiness burst.
The first turn was ahead.
Somehow, everything seemed to go slower than before. It was like I was on super-alert mode. I could hear every hoofbeat, every time our hooves hit the dirt, every creak of the tack, every snort, every rush of breath, every time my mane hit my neck and bounced back to the air. And I was also aware of my knees having that familiar ache, the familiar feeling, the familiar knowledge that I had gone too fast too early and that I was tiring and about to lose the race.
Steele's nose was now level with the girth of the saddle.
Chaya gathered her left rein and we rounded the first turn.
One moment, I was running on the dark brown dirt of the track; it was day and I could see Steele beside me.
The next, everything vanished.
The track, the rail, the humans, the grandstand, the sunlight, Steele– everything–vanished. There was fog above me and fog around me. No sky, no track, no anything–just me.
I was alone, running.
I couldn't see anything but the thick white fog all around me.
To where, I don't know, from where, don't ask me, why I was running, I absolutely have no idea.
Where had I seen this before? I know I have seen this, because…I could even remember thinking those very same words…
The dream! My dream!
This was my dream, the dream I'd been having over and over again, only this time I wasn't asleep; this time, instead of me sleeping and dreaming, instead of me watching myself run, it was me running, me living out the dream, me breathing and running and having no idea what was happening.
I was sure I wasn't sleeping. I couldn't have been sleeping. And yet…if this was my dream, why was it so…real?
You were right. I am going crazy.
Every thought of the race, of humans, of captivity, vanished from my mind.
I was once again the wild young weanling, fresh from the wild…
Hard to run. Something was holding me back, something keeping me from running my very fastest.
I didn't want that. I wanted to run.
I bowed my head and tugged. Pulled. Strained with all my might to go faster.
No use.
It was like moving through water, like when you go swimming and you want to move faster and faster only you can't. Like running through a bog, through the muddy water.
And then, a ray of sun. The fog lifted. I could see! There was sunshine all around. I was running on green grass. But this was not the grass in my paddock. This was not the grass in any human field.
Something was different. The wind came. It blew across my face and I breathed it in.
That smell. That wonderful smell.
Where was I?
The wonderful smell came again. It was very familiar. The sweet smell of the wind…
I was home! But not back in my meadow, with Mother and Northlight and the others.
This was in the wild, open range.
But this was unfamiliar country. I'd never seen these rolling hills before, nor the trees, the land…
This was different. Even the mountains were different. But somehow, I knew it; felt it in my bones; I knew this place…as if I'd seen it before, …but I knew I hadn't.
The grass stretched on and on. I kept running.
A thundering sound filled my ears. I glanced back. A herd of horses running, running, trying to catch up with me.
They wouldn't be able to! I felt a surge of happiness. I was winner!
A wild herd. Those were wild horses. Tame horses wouldn't be here…My herd! Northlight, Mother, Golden, Thunder…my herd was chasing me. Why?
No, on second thought, they weren't my herd.
I couldn't see Thunder. And the chestnuts weren't golden chestnuts, like Golden.
But they were chasing me all the same.
I ran faster.
From the pack, a black shape came racing toward me. I was now running with my head turned back, watching.
It was a black colt. I watched him, saw him stretch forward, backward, forward, backward, his hooves effortlessly propelling himself towards me. I watched him close the distance between us as if I was standing, marveled at his beautiful smooth flying action, wondered at his speed.
He came to settle on my right side. His head was now to my middle, his nose straining for my shoulder.
Then he turned his head to look at me, and I felt all the wonder, all the marvel, all the admiration vanish to be replaced by anger.
I was angry at him. Why? We weren't enemies, because I didn't know him…and yet…he was very familiar too…familiar…where had I seen him before?
Yes. That must be it. I was angry because I was already tiring ad he would win the race. That must be the reason.
I turned my head forward and went faster. Everything–the blue sky overhead, with fluffy white clouds, the forest of trees in the distance, the dark mountains– everything thinned and blurred into one line of color. The wind was definitely whistling; I closed my eyes because they stung; My hooves flew back, forward, back, forward, in a race to the finish…
I opened my eyes. His nose was already to my neck.
Every time I inched ahead, he would soon follow. We were neck and neck; first he would go faster, then I would. We were like two snakes, both equal in speed and strength, both inching for the finish line…
My anger flared. I was going to do something to him when we were both distracted by something to my left.
The wind was whirling, swirling, forming…what was it? It was like the wind was drawn to a spinning vortex, a column of white, powerful wind.
It was forming something. But what? The vortex was wide–it could be anything.
The front and back ends were being made first.
A head was being shaped; ears, eyes, nose–it was as if the wind was chiseling a form out of thin air.
At the back of the vortex – a pair of flying hindquarters, so much like mine, was whipping forward, backward, a tail was streaming behind…
The head appeared. Mane, forelock–it was a horse!
He was now complete. A gigantic black horse, his mane waving in the wind, his tail flowing, his hooves pounding the earth and yet there was no sound, no shaking of the ground, no sign that his hooves were touching the grass.
The black stallion tossed his head and let out a piercing neigh. At least, his mouth formed it, his throat vibrated, but there was no sound.
Even though the vortex was gone, the wind was still all around him…I had a feeling he was the wind…
The horse was coming to meet me, coming to meet us. He angled over, his long legs covering, swallowing up the ground with big strides. I know we were already going very fast, my very fastest in fact, but watching the stallion as he came to run on my left side without even seeming to exert an effort…
Now I was running in the middle, galloping with a black colt on my right and this eerie, mysterious stallion on my left.
His outline was blurry, fuzzy…glowing? Why would he be glowing? But he was glowing.
Was he real? No time to ask. I had to outrun both of them. And I was already going my fastest.
My eyes ran over his face. Warm brown eyes…I had a feeling I'd seen him before, known him before this…but where?
I studied him. Up close, he was even more gigantic, towering over both of us colts. His face was dished, his noble head tapering down to a very small, delicate nose.
I couldn't look him straight in the eye. I glanced downward.
My eyes widened. He wasn't running on the ground; his legs may be snapping back and forth, like mine, but he was running on air!
Now I was convinced he was just a spirit, maybe…an illusion?
My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Yes that must be it; no real horse could have been running on air.
One split second later, I changed my mind.
The stallion had just reached over and sent a warm breath floating up my face.
I could feel it. That is definitely, absolutely, completely, real.
The tingling started at my nose. It was like someone had started a fire. The tingling spread like flames through my body, coursed through my blood, made me feel alive, more alive than I'd felt in a long time. I was recharged. My tiredness vanished. It was replaced by this living, sparkling, crackling…energy.
I was on fire with energy. Energy to race, energy to run, energy to go faster.
I felt full of power and stamina and speed not yet spent.
If that was so, …what was I still doing here? The stallion had given me a second chance. And I wasn't going to waste it.
And the, the something hat had been holding me back gave way. I had my head. I could do what I want. And that was to run. I could run as fast as I wanted.
I tucked in my head. And began to run. Not that I wasn't already running. But this was real running.
And right now, I discovered that I hadn't been going my fastest, not yet.
Right now, I could go even faster still.
And that was what I did. I did what I'd been born to do, did what I wanted to do. I ran.
You don't know how it is, this feeling that you could run all day and not get tired, that you could go so faster than cheetahs, that you could fly, the exhilarating feeling that you are soaring through the air; you won't know this feeling of power and speed until you've felt it yourself.
The thin line of blurred color that had been the trees and the sky and the mountains went white. I lengthened my strides, increased the number of strides, flew past the black colt, flew past the black stallion, charged out ahead.
I had speed. And I was using it.
It was like I hadn't been running before, like someone had just poured a lake of this energy into me.
I ran. High above me, an eagle soared and shrieked. It folded it's wings and dove. I raced with it, going faster.
My hind legs landed on dirt and pushed me forward. My forelegs hit dirt, held me while my hind legs reached out…in...back out…in…out again, in a never ending cycle, going faster, faster, FASTER…
My mane and tail were flowing behind me. I was free! I was back in the wild and I was racing with the wind and I was FREE!
I wasn't getting tired yet! The realization hit me with a bang. I'd been running this fast and I wasn't tired yet!
I glanced back. A multi-colored mass was still there, still racing. Just before it, a black speck was running, still in the lead.
They were dots on the horizon. I am not exaggerating.
I had won!
The last thing I saw was the black stallion, rearing on the hill, waving his forelegs in the air, dancing, dancing in victory…
Then, all at once, the sky and the grass and the mountains thinned and dissolved and were swept away by the wind.
Suddenly, I wasn't seeing in slow motion anymore.
The humans, Chaya, the race–everything came flooding back to me.
The roar of the crowd filled my ears, drummed against my skull. I looked up to see what was the matter and caught a glimpse of a thin wire stretching above my head before we flew past it.
Then, Chaya was pulling me up, slowing me to a canter, to a trot, and finally to a walk.
My chest was heaving, my lungs burning for air. I pulled in great shuddering gasps, my mane sticking to my neck, sweat trickling down my back.
I glanced back and was surprised to see the pack distant dots of color, and a slightly larger black shape leading it.
I'd finally stopped panting before Steele slid into view, blowing and heaving.
And the dagger-look he sent my way, filled with hatred and loathing and poison and his clear wish that I would drop dead just then, couldn't do anything to take my happiness away.
I didn't believe it when they told me. It was impossible. But I'd done it.
I'd broken Secretariat's record. The Secretariat's world record.
The record held by Secretariat for decades.
Secretariat had run the Belmont's 1 ½ mile at 2 minutes and 24 seconds. He had won by 31 lengths.
I'd run it at 2 minutes and 21 seconds. And won it by 33 lengths.
I was now the fastest horse in the world.
Jockeys, trainers and hotwalkers gathered at my stall, coming to look at me, run their hands up and down my legs, walk me to and fro. All the other Oakwood Acres horses were subjected to the same treatment.
Sims couldn't do anything about his you-can't-see-my-horse-in-his-stall-you-can-only-watch-him-in-the-field-and-at-races policy. Our owner had told him to give in to the demands. He had to.
Owners of other farms came with higher and higher and more outrageous prices, trying to bid out each other, wanting to buy us, especially Bright Renaissance, Steele and me, since he'd come in second and the bay stallion had come in fourth.
Of course, they refused. They would make more money out of us when we retired, because owners of mares would want us to sire their foals.
I thought that once we got away from the racetrack and back to the farm, humans would stop coming and everything would be back to normal.
I was wrong.
At the farm, we were put out in separate paddocks, where humans could stand and watch us running, dozing, sleeping, grazing.
At least I was back in my old paddock, Sir Peppero having been moved in with Moon, Marionette, and Fire Phoenix.
And since Steele was in another paddock a good distance away, the others, particularly Marionette, could temporarily regain their freedom of speech.
It was like a holiday, a holiday that would last forever, those days, when we would graze side by side, the fence between us, swishing our tails to keep off the flies, not a worry in our minds. Marionette kept us chortling with her outbursts and her imitations of Steele and I kept them laughing with my jokes. Fire Phoenix, ever the moody one since his brother and best friend was sold, came out of his shell. Moon just smiled her gentle smile at everyone. Even Sir Peppero joined in, and once he did, we saw a side of him we'd never have seen before. His normally gruff and crusty attitude vanished, and he became more playful. And…no Steele to eavesdrop on us, no Steele to make cutting remarks, no Steele to spoil the day…
Each night, I imprinted the memory of those golden days in my mind, determined to cling to them.
Because I've known from experience that good things never last long. And I didn't want this to ever end.
I pushed all thoughts of the race behind me, determined not to worry about my next race, or whether anything bad would happen.
I forgot everything about the race, the win, the world record, the weird dream and the black stallion who had helped me.
I forgot everything, that is, until the afternoon Sir Peppero turned to me with a puzzled expression on his face and said, "Who was that big black stallion who was running beside you in the race?"