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Description
Don't ask me what she has in her mouth. Something shiny, I'm sure.

When compared to Eowyn's impressive girth, our 15hh chestnut filly seemed to be the complete opposite. While Eowyn was a leggy Amazon warrior, Greek Fire, nicknamed Feebs, was a dainty little princess who could rival Cinderella in shoe size. She was gorgeous, to be sure, with the fine bones and beak-like muzzle of a bird. Her hide seemed to be that of her sire's and dam's combined, with the deep red Byblios base and Strike That Match's bright tan and orange highlights.

However, behind that adorable outward appearance lurked the equine version of Frank Abagnale. Feebs was a con artist through and through and proved it on a daily basis. Stablehands and the few genius equines on the farm quickly learned to steer clear of those batting eyelashes and doleful brown eyes, but she repreatedly won over most of the stock. Soon she had a large enough stash of hay and feed in her stall to rival a dragon's lair, pony treats buried under the large tree at the back of her paddock, and enough halters and lead ropes stashed who knows where on the grounds.

When she debuted in late May, our tiny con artist proved to be too preoccupied with conning to worry about winning the race. Five times, she was DQed for interference as she attempted to ensnare her opponents with her charm so that she could unhook their bridles or their girth straps. Jockeys often found themselves without whips--including ours--and one pair of fillies actually stumbled into each other as they ran starstruck beside little Feebs. The sex of the horse didn't matter; Feebs could charm them all.

Left with few options, we pulled her out of the racing circuit and sent her home for more training. Months passed as our delinquent was trained and conditioned. Wyatt was flown out to give his two cents, and when Feebs trotted out onto the Belmont track in late September, it was like we were introducing a new horse.

With extensive psychotherapy and heavy training in the style used for movie horses, we had shaped and morphed Feebs's mind to fit our needs. Her conning ways were not cured by any means, but rather... altered.

Dolorez, an experienced veteran jockey now, didn't quite know what to expect when he was given a leg up on Feebs's back for her seventh maiden special weight. The small body did not quiver in excitement or worry as most freshmen did, nor did she snort and blow and champ at the bit. Her head hung low and her ears drooped to the sides, all the picture of a defeated horse before the race even began. Her ridiculous odds climbed even higher to mark her as the post-time longshot at 59-1, and the other trainers and horses didn't pay her any mind. It truly was a shame no one looked at the filly, for if they had they would have seen those big brown eyes scanning the competition, sharp laser beams soaking in knowledge and calculating every strength and every flaw.

The horses loaded, and the gates sprang open. Quick as a flash, little Feebs bolted from her box and settled high and tight on a particularly nervous filly's rump. The leggy bay snorted uneasily and rolled her eyes as she tried to see behind her. In her attempts to look at Feebs, the bay miscalculated her strides and nearly stumbled into another runner before her jockey pulled her up. The two fillies, startled by their near collision, fell back and Feebs moved up to take their slots.

Next was a rangy gray who ran with her head high and proud. She was the second favorite, for though she had little meat on her bones, she possessed a brutish personality and walked with an air of confidence; it was as if she knew she was the best and that nothing could stop her. The betters naturally ate it up. Feebs moved in close to the gray and drew even with her. She attempted to catch the other filly's gaze, but the gray didn't even bother to look down. Feebs's ears pinned to her skull in agitation, but didn't make a physical move toward her opposer. Instead, she shocked the hell out of everyone around her--both equine and human alike--when she started chuffing and grunting and twitching her head like she was about to collapse in an epileptic seizure.

The gray looked down.

Feebs then bolted ahead as Dolorez barely hung on and weaved herself into a thin hole in front of the startled gray.

And suddenly only one filly remained. The favorite, this liver chestnut powerhouse was an unproven frontrunner by Royal Anthem out of the Marquetry mare Athena Starwoman. Her name was Hera's Song, and the betters loved power and pedigree so much that she had been betted down to a cool 2-1. She currently thundered along at a blistering pace with an impressive five length lead over the rest of the field.

But Feebs knew her weakness. Through her scans during the post parade, she had noticed that Hera's Song would flinch anytime something whooshed past her flank. Along those same lines, her jockey seemed to take special care to not brush his whip anywhere past her hip joint.

Feebs switched gears beneath Dolorez and slipped up next to the filly's tail. Taking care not to touch the darker chestnut, Feebs started breathing heavier than normal as they thundered for home. Feeling someone's breath against her thigh, Song threw her head up and faltered in her stride, allowing Feebs to zoom past to claim her first win by half a length.

Our little con artist finally knew how to play the field.

AAAH I LOVE THIS FILLY. (Also, my fellow pedigree nerds, Hera's Song is from the same lines as Presious Passion. In case you cared. 8D)

Foal Pic and Bio

Racing Season: 2 Year Old
7 starts--1/0/0
$16,140
Important Wins: None
*DQed from 5 races due to interference

Racing Stats

Total Wins: 7 starts--1/0/0
Graded Stakes Wins: None
Career Earnings (in US currency): $16,140
Racing Style: Any position, extreme distance (9-15f)
Titles: None

Art and Character (C) Me

Description
Don't ask me what she has in her mouth. Something shiny, I'm sure.

When compared to Eowyn's impressive girth, our 15hh chestnut filly seemed to be the complete opposite. While Eowyn was a leggy Amazon warrior, Greek Fire, nicknamed Feebs, was a dainty little princess who could rival Cinderella in shoe size. She was gorgeous, to be sure, with the fine bones and beak-like muzzle of a bird. Her hide seemed to be that of her sire's and dam's combined, with the deep red Byblios base and Strike That Match's bright tan and orange highlights.

However, behind that adorable outward appearance lurked the equine version of Frank Abagnale. Feebs was a con artist through and through and proved it on a daily basis. Stablehands and the few genius equines on the farm quickly learned to steer clear of those batting eyelashes and doleful brown eyes, but she repreatedly won over most of the stock. Soon she had a large enough stash of hay and feed in her stall to rival a dragon's lair, pony treats buried under the large tree at the back of her paddock, and enough halters and lead ropes stashed who knows where on the grounds.

When she debuted in late May, our tiny con artist proved to be too preoccupied with conning to worry about winning the race. Five times, she was DQed for interference as she attempted to ensnare her opponents with her charm so that she could unhook their bridles or their girth straps. Jockeys often found themselves without whips--including ours--and one pair of fillies actually stumbled into each other as they ran starstruck beside little Feebs. The sex of the horse didn't matter; Feebs could charm them all.

Left with few options, we pulled her out of the racing circuit and sent her home for more training. Months passed as our delinquent was trained and conditioned. Wyatt was flown out to give his two cents, and when Feebs trotted out onto the Belmont track in late September, it was like we were introducing a new horse.

With extensive psychotherapy and heavy training in the style used for movie horses, we had shaped and morphed Feebs's mind to fit our needs. Her conning ways were not cured by any means, but rather... altered.

Dolorez, an experienced veteran jockey now, didn't quite know what to expect when he was given a leg up on Feebs's back for her seventh maiden special weight. The small body did not quiver in excitement or worry as most freshmen did, nor did she snort and blow and champ at the bit. Her head hung low and her ears drooped to the sides, all the picture of a defeated horse before the race even began. Her ridiculous odds climbed even higher to mark her as the post-time longshot at 59-1, and the other trainers and horses didn't pay her any mind. It truly was a shame no one looked at the filly, for if they had they would have seen those big brown eyes scanning the competition, sharp laser beams soaking in knowledge and calculating every strength and every flaw.

The horses loaded, and the gates sprang open. Quick as a flash, little Feebs bolted from her box and settled high and tight on a particularly nervous filly's rump. The leggy bay snorted uneasily and rolled her eyes as she tried to see behind her. In her attempts to look at Feebs, the bay miscalculated her strides and nearly stumbled into another runner before her jockey pulled her up. The two fillies, startled by their near collision, fell back and Feebs moved up to take their slots.

Next was a rangy gray who ran with her head high and proud. She was the second favorite, for though she had little meat on her bones, she possessed a brutish personality and walked with an air of confidence; it was as if she knew she was the best and that nothing could stop her. The betters naturally ate it up. Feebs moved in close to the gray and drew even with her. She attempted to catch the other filly's gaze, but the gray didn't even bother to look down. Feebs's ears pinned to her skull in agitation, but didn't make a physical move toward her opposer. Instead, she shocked the hell out of everyone around her--both equine and human alike--when she started chuffing and grunting and twitching her head like she was about to collapse in an epileptic seizure.

The gray looked down.

Feebs then bolted ahead as Dolorez barely hung on and weaved herself into a thin hole in front of the startled gray.

And suddenly only one filly remained. The favorite, this liver chestnut powerhouse was an unproven frontrunner by Royal Anthem out of the Marquetry mare Athena Starwoman. Her name was Hera's Song, and the betters loved power and pedigree so much that she had been betted down to a cool 2-1. She currently thundered along at a blistering pace with an impressive five length lead over the rest of the field.

But Feebs knew her weakness. Through her scans during the post parade, she had noticed that Hera's Song would flinch anytime something whooshed past her flank. Along those same lines, her jockey seemed to take special care to not brush his whip anywhere past her hip joint.

Feebs switched gears beneath Dolorez and slipped up next to the filly's tail. Taking care not to touch the darker chestnut, Feebs started breathing heavier than normal as they thundered for home. Feeling someone's breath against her thigh, Song threw her head up and faltered in her stride, allowing Feebs to zoom past to claim her first win by half a length.

Our little con artist finally knew how to play the field.

AAAH I LOVE THIS FILLY. (Also, my fellow pedigree nerds, Hera's Song is from the same lines as Presious Passion. In case you cared. 8D)

Foal Pic and Bio

Racing Season: 2 Year Old
7 starts--1/0/0
$16,140
Important Wins: None
*DQed from 5 races due to interference

Racing Stats

Total Wins: 7 starts--1/0/0
Graded Stakes Wins: None
Career Earnings (in US currency): $16,140
Racing Style: Any position, extreme distance (9-15f)
Titles: None

Art and Character (C) Me