Spitfire

"What's her name?" I breathe.
A small smile creeps onto his face.
"Spitfire."
I seize the name in my mouth, tasting the smoke and fire and brimstone of it on my tongue. This was filly who would not be defeated, who would rather die than lose.
* * * * *
Sage Murphy lives and breathes horse racing. The lifeblood of her hometown-a craggy stretch of Irish rock and cliff that weathers the Atlantic sea-thrums with it as well. At nineteen years old, and on her own, Sage has climbed her way to the top, and has ceaselessly fought for her place within the racing community of her town. When an opportunity presents itself; in the form of a black filly with a temper as hot as her own, and blistering, unearthly speed, Sage takes it, damning the consequences. But as the odds stack up, and the stakes are raised even higher, Sage is put in a position where maybe even she can't win.
A/N: I'm writing this in 1st person which is unnatural for me so fair warning if i flip between 1st and 3rd I'm sorry in advance.