The Race

Faster.

Connor leaned forward in the saddle, so close that his cheek brushed Chase's neck, and he felt slick sweat coating Chase's sleek, chestnut coat.

He squeezed his legs tighter, urging Chase on, feeling the powerful muscles pulsing around him. The helmet on Connor's head slid forward a centimeter, letting the sweat on the back of his neck dribble down his shirt. The little pellets of dirt Chase kicked up hit Connor's legs, but he couldn't concentrate on that.

The crowd was a dull roar in his ears, drowned out by the whistling of wind and pure concentration filling Connor's mind.

Be one.

"Come on, Chase," Connor whispered, tightening the reigns out of habit.

There was no need for reigns, really; Chase knew what he was doing. The knowledge reverberated in his every footstep.

From the corner of Connor's eye, he could see the other racers and their horses, all blurs quickly falling behind in a gradual decrescendo. And in Connor's throat, the crescendo of victory rose as the finish line grew nearer and nearer.

A sudden forte - sound exploded in Connor's ears as Chase neighed in victory, tossing his gorgeous mane. Sound shattered from inside Connor, too, a triumphant yell of pride that lasted the entire victory lap around the track.

"We're winners," Connor told Chase, dismounting as his friends and family ran onto the track to greet him.

Chase snorted, and Connor swore he saw him wink. As if we weren't already.