Heart and Soul (rewrite)

Chapter One

As with all things born into this world my first memory was of darkness. Darkness, and a touch. Not of a mother, of a man. I remember next to nothing about my mother. Just a warm mahogany coat, covered in sweat, her sides rising and falling at alarming rates. I was allowed to stay with her for as long as it took me to gain control of my unwieldy legs and wobble to her for my first vital meal of colostrum.

Then she was gone.

It didn't effect me much. I received my milk from a bottle, the rubber nipple strange at first, and my training came from the humans around me. If I nipped, which I did often, I was scolded and smacked. If I tried to kick out I was smacked again and forced to spin in a tight circle. If I tried to pass the groom leading me, or stepped on his feet, or playfully grabbed a piece of his shirt, I was smacked again. I never knew the soft touch of a mother, only the rough abuse of a human hand. I quickly learned to associate hands with pain.

My name was Charm, an abbreviation for Third Time's a Charm. I received that name because I was my mother's third foal, and the one who carried the most hope upon my shoulders. My older brothers could run, my oldest was entering his two year old season at that point, but they were far from outstanding. I was the product of careful selection, and of a champion stallion, known for his breathtaking speed and beauty, and the same traits he passed onto his foals.

The first day I had a horse for a companion was the day I met Blue. Freshly weaned, the group of foals were desperate for companionship, and after screaming until their throats were raw they turned to each other for solace. Blue found me. He had found it curious that I hadn't called for a mother, until I explained I didn't have one.

"Everyone has a mother!" He had exclaimed, prancing around me in anxious energy.

I has shrugged my shoulders. "I just never had one. I don't remember one."

He had found that quite the anomaly, but eventually his mother faded away for him too, and we grew closer as his mother vanished from his mind. We would goad each other into flat out sprints, our tails and heels high in the air. I never won, and as time passed his legs grew longer and longer, until one of his strides was worth two of mine. It was an unfair advantage, but I let him have it. He couldn't exactly make his legs shorter. He never bragged either, choosing instead to tell me how well I was doing.

"You almost had me, Charm! Next time try longer strides, then you'll win!"

Our racing was soon brought to a sudden and unexpected end. At six months Blue was becoming interested in the other fillies, and was even chasing other colts away from me. That was when the grooms came and led the fillies into a different field, far across the farm. After that gate shut I stood at the fence, calling for Blue, and he would answer me. We would whinny back and forth until we were brought in for the night, at which point he would only be down the aisle from me.

At a year we began training. First we were saddle broke, a long and tedious process, and we learned to carry a human. Then, came the track.

It was a misty morning when we were first led to the exercise track, and I could barely stand still. Finally I was allowed to run. We started out at a trot, then moved gradually into a canter. It wasn't until a week had passed that we were allowed to gallop.

I watched the horses who ran before me with little interest. I was trotted onto the soft footing, and jigged impatiently as my rider received instructions. He asked me to canter, then at the corner he gave me my head and squeezed. I rocketed forward so quickly he gasped. My strides grew effortlessly longer and longer, my ears went flat against my head. Every time my feet struck the ground I let out an explosive snort, reveling in the pure joy of running. There was a horse in front of me, a bay. I felt my rider pull on my mouth. I threw my head, picking up more speed. He pulled harder. I galloped faster. The bay horse was beside me now. Its rider look at me, then at my rider, confusion in her eyes as I passed. Faster, faster, faster! The glorious feeling of a flat out sprint consumed me. My fun was brought to an end when the only Thoroughbred capable of beating me came up beside me. Blue! When he slowed I slowed, until we were walking side by side. I was breathing heavily and my sides were covered in sweat, but never had I felt so free, so wonderful.

I was rubbed down, carefully checked for any injuries, walked out until I was cool, draped in a sheet, then put in my stall. I stood quietly now, exhausted, eating my hay. A man came to my stall door and called my name, a carrot in his calloused hand. I took it gently, watching him as I chewed.

"I was told you had quite a run today, filly." He chuckled. "The fastest one on the track, save Blue." He rubbed my star. "And the smallest."

I stood at fifteen hands, one of the smallest Thoroughbreds born that year. Most of me was leg, long and thin, but powerful enough to beat every horse on the track that day. Except, of course, Blue. Rumors around the barn flew. I was a prodigy, and one of the best horses at the barn in years. As I trained, as I grew stronger, I could almost beat Blue. We ran nose to shoulder, but he always beat me.

A year passed, and I was soon registered for my first race.