The King.

Chapter 2

I pranced in place, my head swinging back and forth as best I could, panick settling in my bones. I was trapped in a small box, hardly allowed any space, feeling as clostrophobic as ever. Every where I turned, cold metal met me. Not that I could turn. Behind me, pressing up against my croup, was a cold, metal wall, which I was leaning desperatly against. On both of my sides, pressing against my ribcage, was the same cold, metal wall feeling. Pressing against my chest was an even colder metal bar. The side walls and the bar felt like they were squeezing the breath out of my lungs. I pranced some more, my tail lashing, glaring around. The odd thing was, all the other horses in the gates were deathly silent. How were they so calm!? There was usual ones even more afraid than me. And this made me more terrified.

I felt my jockey lowering into the saddle, light as a feather. I tried to lift my head more to peer over the metal walls at another horse, but before I could, my jockey grabbed my reins and held my head. I let out a ear-shattering neigh, kicking out at the wall behind me in frustration. I heard a satisfying clang! of metal as my hoof met it. The jockey murmured soothing words, stroking my neck, trying to calm me down. For once, that did not calm me, and his touch made my ears flatten against my skull. Suddenly he perched in the saddle, and I knew what that meant. Time to go. My hind legs bunched, eager to get out of there, lowering my head just a tad. I stared ahead, my tail lashing again, awaiting the starting sound. Suddenly, a bell rang loudly, the cold weight of the metal bar releasing from my chest. I rocketed out of the starting gaze, shooting away from them.

After a while, I noticed that I could only hear the thunder of my hooves. Which was odd... Usually it was later on when I couldn't hear the others. Looking around, I saw that the track was empty, except for me. And the crowd was even silent. I glanced to the side, and found the stadium bare. A little puzzled, I looked back ahead, and understood.

There was a man, leaning on the fence at the end of the straightaway, just at the bend. He was wearing a bowler hat, his thumb poised over the button on a stopwatch, his gaze watching my every movement expectantly.

Ah, a practice. But where was my friend? I usually raced with at least one other horse... And, of course, I always won.

Oh well. I suddenly pushed more, my speed increasing. The jockey cheered from the saddle, and my speed got progressively faster. By the time I whizzed past the man in the bowler hat, I was going remarkably fast. His bowler hat flew right off of his head at the wind that blew in his face as I passed, exposing a bald, shiny head. He chuckled, punching the button the second I passed him, followed by a low whistle. He stared at the face of the stopwatch in dismay for a moment ,my jockey attempting to pull me into a halt, struggling with the reins. I tossed my head, nieghing, and rearing just slightly, out of pure excitement. The jockey laughed softly, hanging on until I was done, and I calmed down. I pranced in place as the bowler hat man replaced his hat and ducked under the fence. Approaching me, he nodded, grinning widely, pushing the golden stopwatch in his pocket.

"Well done... Very, very well done." He beamed up at me, then lifted a cool hand, running it down the side of my slightly damp neck, nodding slowly. "And hardly breaking a sweat..." His tone was full of admiration. "This one is a very fine horse, James. I'm jealous." He glanced behind his shoulder, and I followed his gaze, seeing my master approaching behind him.

"Well, Howard, thats what I paid for." He chuckled, walking straight to me. He halted directly in front of my head, his eyes shining with pride. I lowered my head slightly, and he layed his large hand on my forhead, directly on the white star. I felt weight lift from my back, and I glanced behind me out of the corner of my eye to see Howard lifting the jockey from my saddle. "How did he feel?" James asked, his gaze on the two, also. He scratched my forehead, playing with my long forelock.

"He felt amazin', sir. He's a real racer, he is. Looks mighty handsome, too." Said the jockey in his thick, deep, southern drawl, breathless. He pulled his goggles from his bright blue eyes, resting it around his neck.  Then he fumbled with the chin strap for a moment, then pulled his bright yellow helmet off, his light blonde, almost white hair, tumbled from beneath it. He grinned up at me. " 'Sa real honor to ride him, sir. Hes real fun. Real thrillin' to be in the saddle." He patted my haunches, having to stand on his toes slightly to do it. He was a thin, lean, short man, like most jockeys. Anyone could tell he was on a strict diet, and he weighed close to nothing. Possibly lighter than most jockeys. We were an unbeatable pair.

"That is great to hear, George." Replied my master, nodding. Howard reached forward to stroke me, adding to the other two hands stroking and scratching my sleek, black fur. I was loving all the attention! I cocked my head to the side slightly, wiggling my lips back and forth, causing the three men to chuckle. "George, can you do me a favor and take King here to the stables, make sure the groom sees to him?" James murmured, kissing my nose gently. He diverted his gaze from me to the short man, his tone polite. George bobbed his head up and down in a eager nod, gathered up my reins, and walked me to the stables. He had to jog to keep up with my long strides, the soft mumbling of the discussing men fadinging behind me.

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"I heard you impressed Howard, eh? Hes a tough man to please. But I knew you could do it, King." Joe murmured, standing beside me, wiping a damp, wet rag along my coat. I snorted softly in relief, his eyes drooping slightly as I nibbled on my hay, my tail swishing. I faintly listened to him tell a story, as he always does as he grooms. The scent of fresh bedding, the warmth a cozyness of my stall was ten times better than cross ties. He began working on a girth mark, his rambling comforting. I was almost asleep, when a pudgy face appeared beween the bars of the stall. It was none other than the snooty groom that I took a patch of his trousers. He glared at me, and I lifted my head, my ears flickering back, glaring at him.

"You are one crazy man, Joe, to trust that horse in a stall. He needs to be contained in a cross tie." He sniffed, crossing his arms. Joe straightened up, resting the towel across his shoulders, crossing his arms, mirroring the other grooms pose.

"Richard, I was given specific instructions by Mrs. Pennington to keep you away from this horse." He narrowed his eyes. "And if you knew how to treat horses, than they wouldn't bite and kick you, therefore there would be absolutley no need for crossties." He shot at him, snorting.

"Are you saying im a bad groom?" Growled the man, ruffling the short, stubby hairs that made up his mustache, his glare flickering between me and Joe. Joe did not respond, and instead went back to work, rubbing down my mark. The pudgy groom huffed, spinning on his heel and marching off, mumbling complaints under his breath. I could see Joe hiding a grin from the corner of my eyes.

"Atta' boy..." He murmured softly, stroking my neck with a grin.

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Okay, so I just sorta realized how confusing this mich be... "Mr. Bently" is Richard. Richard Bently. Idk, I felt like I had to put that out there, cuz re reading this I was like "Gee, makes it look like he has two names..."