Cross Thoroughbred Racing Facility

[mistycreek]

[haylee]

_[Yup!]

[Deleted]

Gah! I'm soo sorry Heaths! Bb in like an hour or two

[Deleted]

It's cool.

OKAY. Now I do the post.

[mistycreek]

<sub>[Burple okay.]

An old, rustic trailer pulled by a dinged up pickup truck pulled up into the long, gravel driveway. A small, skinny figure hopped out of the driver's seat; their face covered with their huge, baggy sweatshirt and a hat pulled almost over their eyes. Their face was smeared and smudged with dirt or grease, covering up the freckles splashed across their cheeks. Their hair was not visible, but it looked to be a dark auburn brown color. The small, scrawny person had bright green eyes.

Who was this person? In reality, they were 17-year-old Breanna Bentley, a stubborn and spunky girl from southern California. But Breanna was pretending to be a groom and part-time exercise rider, Bennie, who had been employed by her father. Breanna had run away from home and lied to Peter, a jockey that she'd never met or even spoken to, through a letter saying that 'Bennie' was employed by her father. In the letter, she'd pretended to be her father. Brea had gotten away with it so far.

She scurried to the trailer, keeping her head low, although she was very curious about her surroundings. Where was this Peter, anyways?</sub>

[haylee]

<sub>Peter had finally gotten Sterling Suspicion into his freshly cleaned stall. He sighed, pulling off his baseball cap and running a hand through his ruffled hair. He turned on his heel and headed towards the old trailer that had just pulled in. He had been given a horse to ride, and now that horse, Like Clockwork, should be here. He wasn't too thrilled about the exercise rider coming along, and as he approached the truck, he squinted at the figure. "Is this Like Clockwork?" He asked, Spanish accent thick.

His dark gaze appraise the truck and trailer, he craned his neck to look towards the trailer, wondering who this person was. He seemed a bit... Feminine, but he wasn't going to judge. Maybe having an extra hand around to help him would be good... The jockey brightened at the thought, he could tell the kid to do the dirty work, such as mucking out stalls and lunging horses; the stuff Peter did not enjoy. His eyes lightened and he leaned against the hood of the truck. "So, you're the extra hand? What's your name?" He remember that this kid had mentioned it in the letter, but he didn't remember.</sub>

[Spotify]

Ever held onto Cat for dear life, trembling."He's really gone, isn't he?"she whispered, shaking her head, she still didn't want to believe it. She couldn't. Ever released Cat, her throat still tight. She let out one miserable whimper as she tucked her hair behind her ear, wondering suddenly why Cat was being so nice to her.

[Spotify]

(Horsey, why did Raven get moved into the archives?)

[mistycreek]

_{Brea nodded vigorously, quickly smacking a hand to her head so that her hat wouldn't fall off and reveal her hair. "Yes," she said at first, almost forgetting her voice. It was kind of low for a girl's, but not low enough to belong to the man she was pretending to be. "We call him Clocks," she said gruffly, covering her voice with a cough. Breanna studied Peter cautiously from beneath her hat, her chin tucked into her sweatshirt. Once she decided she could trust him, she finally answered, "Bennie." Brea covered her mouth as she spoke to hide her voice.}

[Deleted]

_{Rivers craned her head, leaning the way her hair was being pulled as she took an unsteady step backwards. The ponytail holder had knotted up in her blonde strands and it was a hassle trying to get it out. Finally, she'd tugged hard on the elastic band until it had snapped apart and therefore had been made easier to disembroil. Just last night she'd purchased a small box of fold over ponytail holders, so no longer would she have to use these stupid elastics. Her palm and fingers pressed against a section of hair around the back of her head, scrunching it up once as she sleepily made her way to the stables. The flu season had aroused bright and early, and Rivers had been one of the first to be victimized by the viral disease. Her ill health, however, did not spoil her commitment to bathe Indigo this morning as much as she wanted to curl up beneath a mass of blankets. She stopped in front of the wrong stall, rubbing her nose and squinting her eyes as she peered inside. She got a face-full of horsey sniffers and some wet substance -- most likely snot -- and that was something she didn't need or want. The girl grabbed the end of her shirt, flipping it over so that her stomach was bare and exposed, and used the inside to rub off whatever had met her face. Rivers' hand reached out to push the nose away, only to get nicked by some teeth. "Indie!" She exclaimed, taken aback by the foul behavior. "Ohh..." Rivers turned away from the strange horse and took a step to the left and the next stall. "There you are girl," She cooed as her open palm rubbed over Indigo's alabaster face. The girl's own pallid eyes met with the equine's lustrous blue optics full of life and vibrancy. "Time for a good scrubbing, huh?" She mumbled as she picked crusted clay off of Indigo's cheek. "Yep," The blonde-headed female continued as she retrieved Indigo from the stall to give her a real good bath.}