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Description
Adult Pic

NYYYAAAAAH!! I have such great plans for this one. Her 2yo season will be cut into 2 parts. This, obviously, is part 1. Expect part 2... Soon.

Also, I have no idea what the policy is for registering thoroughbreds after they are born, nor do I really care to. It's a story so roll with it.

The filly was a nobody with a nobody's pedigree. The offspring of King Cowboy and Cadogan Gardens, by Northfields, she came from a line of non-racers and seemed destined to follow in their less than spectacular hoofsteps. To make matters worse, she was said to possess a temper problem; a "mean, lean, fightin' machine," her owner smirked as he all but shoved her into her designated pen at the livestock auction.

The place left much to be desired and sat a little too far on the shady side for most people's liking. Set in the heart of central Texas in what Wyatt fondly called "Hillbilly Hell," it was set half in, half out of the elements, with wood or concrete stalls for the pricier stock and outdoor slop pens for the lesser bodies. According to the auction house, the two-year-old filly was one of the lesser bodies. Within moments, her shaggy, unkept hide was covered in horse sweat and unmentionable muck. Her proverbial hackles were raised and her teeth were bared at her fellow penmates, but one only had to look in those large doe eyes to see just how terrified she was. Judging by the blood-caked whip her owner carried in his back pocket at all times, her temper was not her personality, but rather a defense mechanism.

The auction was held on a frigid January night. Wyatt, with his upper lip curled in disgust and hate for the careless owners of the livestock, attended simply because he couldn't help himself. Though he had improved tremendously over the past year and a half, sometimes he still found himself skulking around the auctions just to clear his mind or keep the demons at bay. It was almost like a vice for him, though Critical and the hard work Heartbreak Ridge required on a daily basis helped keep his mind off most of the bad thoughts.

Many years later, Wyatt would thank his lucky stars and every higher being he could think of for sending him to that rundown auction, for that was where he met the filly that would change Black Creek Crossing Stables forever.

Her name on the auction card was Rundown, but her papers were blank, meaning she was registered in the Jockey Club database as "unnamed." One look at her cowering in the corner of the tiny pen with her teeth bared at the world and he knew he had to have her. He looked at her and saw something special. He saw power and stubborness and a spirit that was holding onto life by a thread. He looked at her and saw a fellow broken being. It was obvious by the scars on her back and the shadows in her eyes that she had been beaten down time and again, and yet she still stood. Later that night when she was walked through the auction ring, Wyatt was the only one to bid on her, sealing the deal at the rock-bottom price of $800.

The ride home was a nightmare; it seemed the unnamed filly was severely claustrophobic, and when they finally pulled to a stop and Wyatt let her out, she literally leaped through the trailer doors in her attempt to escape. He quickly made up a stall for her beside his beloved Critical, but never led her in. Instead, Wyatt let her loose in one of the extra large paddocks designated for wired racehorses who often still felt the urge to run.

Weeks passed, and the unnamed filly was left alone in her paddock. Wyatt didn't go in, and she didn't come out. Snowstorms blew in and frigid rains poured down from the heavens, and still she stayed. Every morning he would sit on her fence for an hour or more, Critical content to munch the grass along the pathway behind him, but the filly never came closer. Late at night, Wyatt would look out and see the shadow of the filly running circles around her paddock, mane and tail flying in the breeze. Why she ran, he didn't know, but he could guess. Sometimes, when he was lucky enough to sneak up to her paddock without her spotting him, he saw a curious twinkle in her eyes. It was as if the young, badly abused creature was happiest when she ran; he could relate to that. Sometimes the pain is so great all you can do is run. Run fast and hard and as long as you can to escape the pain and the demons inside your soul.

***

Many months came and went as the filly slowly grew accustomed to her new life and the creatures in it. She was first smitten by Critical, who slobbered all over her and cooed like a mother hen every chance he got. After that was Monty, who was as flirtatious as any stallion would be. Finally, she accepted Wyatt, albeit reluctantly. The shadows in her eyes more or less disappeared, only resurfacing in times of stress or when she was enclosed in a tight space. In the middle of May, long after Monty had moved back into BCC's racing barn and rekindled his racing career, she finally let Wyatt close enough to give her a full body makeover. Her scraggly fur was washed and brushed, then trimmed, as were her mane and tail. The whiskers around her nose and the fuzzies in her ears were removed without a problem and her hooves were treated by the ferrier. A few weeks later, the nearby vet gave her a full check up, pronouncing her in perfect health.

It seemed that she had made a full physical recovery and was fast on her way to a complete psychological one as well. She still ran around her paddock every night, however, and sometimes during the day, and she had yet to willingly step foot in a stall. The running was a good thing, though, and was what originally put the egg of thought in Wyatt's mind. He called TJ up and explained the situation, and she flew down immediately to evaluate the still unnamed filly.

After witnessing one of those famous night runs, TJ didn't say anything for a long time. Eventually, she turned to Wyatt and spoke in hushed tones, "I've only been lucky enough to see that kind of fire twice before in my lifetime, my friend; first with El Diablo, then with Peter. But not even they possessed such raw, untrained power." She paused and looked at the filly for a moment before continuing. "Register her. Name her whatever you want. I'd love to buy into her name, but if you want to remain sole owner of her, that's fine too. I'll still help you any way I can, and you have all of BCC's resources at your fingertips for whenever you need them." She suddenly swung her ice-blue gaze to the older man. "But if you don't run her, I'll bitch-slap you to Hell and back for being so stupid, you hear me?"

Wyatt just huffed and waved a carefree hand in her face. "I may be old, little missy, but I ain't stupid. That filly has fire in her veins. She'll run. I guarantee you, she'll run. And she'll blow the world away."

And so, two days later, the dark bay filly was registered under the regal name of Andraste, an old Celtic name meaning "Victory."

Name: Andraste (Celtic name meaning "victory")
Barn Name: Andy
Gender: Filly
Age: 2yo
Projected Height: 16.3hh
Color: Dark bay
Eyes: Russet brown
Markings: Blaze, FL coronet with ermine spot, BR sock
Build: Not much can be determined through the muck and the lack of muscle, but from what we can tell, she's a long, naturally lean filly with a blade-like head, all straight and fine-boned. She moves like a jungle cat and runs like a dream.
Breed: Thoroughbred
Bloodlines: Starter---(King Cowboy x Cadogan Gardens, by Northfields)
Genes: Ee/Aa
Temperment: When she first came to HBR, Andy was skittish and mean. She wouldn't let anyone or anything come near her out of fear. Over time, however, she grew accustomed to her new life and lost most of the attitude. A touch of temper remains, and she's one of the most stubborn creatures we've ever seen, but she's gentled. Mostly.
Stable: Heartbreak Ridge

Art and Character (C) Me

Description
Adult Pic

NYYYAAAAAH!! I have such great plans for this one. Her 2yo season will be cut into 2 parts. This, obviously, is part 1. Expect part 2... Soon.

Also, I have no idea what the policy is for registering thoroughbreds after they are born, nor do I really care to. It's a story so roll with it.

The filly was a nobody with a nobody's pedigree. The offspring of King Cowboy and Cadogan Gardens, by Northfields, she came from a line of non-racers and seemed destined to follow in their less than spectacular hoofsteps. To make matters worse, she was said to possess a temper problem; a "mean, lean, fightin' machine," her owner smirked as he all but shoved her into her designated pen at the livestock auction.

The place left much to be desired and sat a little too far on the shady side for most people's liking. Set in the heart of central Texas in what Wyatt fondly called "Hillbilly Hell," it was set half in, half out of the elements, with wood or concrete stalls for the pricier stock and outdoor slop pens for the lesser bodies. According to the auction house, the two-year-old filly was one of the lesser bodies. Within moments, her shaggy, unkept hide was covered in horse sweat and unmentionable muck. Her proverbial hackles were raised and her teeth were bared at her fellow penmates, but one only had to look in those large doe eyes to see just how terrified she was. Judging by the blood-caked whip her owner carried in his back pocket at all times, her temper was not her personality, but rather a defense mechanism.

The auction was held on a frigid January night. Wyatt, with his upper lip curled in disgust and hate for the careless owners of the livestock, attended simply because he couldn't help himself. Though he had improved tremendously over the past year and a half, sometimes he still found himself skulking around the auctions just to clear his mind or keep the demons at bay. It was almost like a vice for him, though Critical and the hard work Heartbreak Ridge required on a daily basis helped keep his mind off most of the bad thoughts.

Many years later, Wyatt would thank his lucky stars and every higher being he could think of for sending him to that rundown auction, for that was where he met the filly that would change Black Creek Crossing Stables forever.

Her name on the auction card was Rundown, but her papers were blank, meaning she was registered in the Jockey Club database as "unnamed." One look at her cowering in the corner of the tiny pen with her teeth bared at the world and he knew he had to have her. He looked at her and saw something special. He saw power and stubborness and a spirit that was holding onto life by a thread. He looked at her and saw a fellow broken being. It was obvious by the scars on her back and the shadows in her eyes that she had been beaten down time and again, and yet she still stood. Later that night when she was walked through the auction ring, Wyatt was the only one to bid on her, sealing the deal at the rock-bottom price of $800.

The ride home was a nightmare; it seemed the unnamed filly was severely claustrophobic, and when they finally pulled to a stop and Wyatt let her out, she literally leaped through the trailer doors in her attempt to escape. He quickly made up a stall for her beside his beloved Critical, but never led her in. Instead, Wyatt let her loose in one of the extra large paddocks designated for wired racehorses who often still felt the urge to run.

Weeks passed, and the unnamed filly was left alone in her paddock. Wyatt didn't go in, and she didn't come out. Snowstorms blew in and frigid rains poured down from the heavens, and still she stayed. Every morning he would sit on her fence for an hour or more, Critical content to munch the grass along the pathway behind him, but the filly never came closer. Late at night, Wyatt would look out and see the shadow of the filly running circles around her paddock, mane and tail flying in the breeze. Why she ran, he didn't know, but he could guess. Sometimes, when he was lucky enough to sneak up to her paddock without her spotting him, he saw a curious twinkle in her eyes. It was as if the young, badly abused creature was happiest when she ran; he could relate to that. Sometimes the pain is so great all you can do is run. Run fast and hard and as long as you can to escape the pain and the demons inside your soul.

***

Many months came and went as the filly slowly grew accustomed to her new life and the creatures in it. She was first smitten by Critical, who slobbered all over her and cooed like a mother hen every chance he got. After that was Monty, who was as flirtatious as any stallion would be. Finally, she accepted Wyatt, albeit reluctantly. The shadows in her eyes more or less disappeared, only resurfacing in times of stress or when she was enclosed in a tight space. In the middle of May, long after Monty had moved back into BCC's racing barn and rekindled his racing career, she finally let Wyatt close enough to give her a full body makeover. Her scraggly fur was washed and brushed, then trimmed, as were her mane and tail. The whiskers around her nose and the fuzzies in her ears were removed without a problem and her hooves were treated by the ferrier. A few weeks later, the nearby vet gave her a full check up, pronouncing her in perfect health.

It seemed that she had made a full physical recovery and was fast on her way to a complete psychological one as well. She still ran around her paddock every night, however, and sometimes during the day, and she had yet to willingly step foot in a stall. The running was a good thing, though, and was what originally put the egg of thought in Wyatt's mind. He called TJ up and explained the situation, and she flew down immediately to evaluate the still unnamed filly.

After witnessing one of those famous night runs, TJ didn't say anything for a long time. Eventually, she turned to Wyatt and spoke in hushed tones, "I've only been lucky enough to see that kind of fire twice before in my lifetime, my friend; first with El Diablo, then with Peter. But not even they possessed such raw, untrained power." She paused and looked at the filly for a moment before continuing. "Register her. Name her whatever you want. I'd love to buy into her name, but if you want to remain sole owner of her, that's fine too. I'll still help you any way I can, and you have all of BCC's resources at your fingertips for whenever you need them." She suddenly swung her ice-blue gaze to the older man. "But if you don't run her, I'll bitch-slap you to Hell and back for being so stupid, you hear me?"

Wyatt just huffed and waved a carefree hand in her face. "I may be old, little missy, but I ain't stupid. That filly has fire in her veins. She'll run. I guarantee you, she'll run. And she'll blow the world away."

And so, two days later, the dark bay filly was registered under the regal name of Andraste, an old Celtic name meaning "Victory."

Name: Andraste (Celtic name meaning "victory")
Barn Name: Andy
Gender: Filly
Age: 2yo
Projected Height: 16.3hh
Color: Dark bay
Eyes: Russet brown
Markings: Blaze, FL coronet with ermine spot, BR sock
Build: Not much can be determined through the muck and the lack of muscle, but from what we can tell, she's a long, naturally lean filly with a blade-like head, all straight and fine-boned. She moves like a jungle cat and runs like a dream.
Breed: Thoroughbred
Bloodlines: Starter---(King Cowboy x Cadogan Gardens, by Northfields)
Genes: Ee/Aa
Temperment: When she first came to HBR, Andy was skittish and mean. She wouldn't let anyone or anything come near her out of fear. Over time, however, she grew accustomed to her new life and lost most of the attitude. A touch of temper remains, and she's one of the most stubborn creatures we've ever seen, but she's gentled. Mostly.
Stable: Heartbreak Ridge

Art and Character (C) Me