Furious Arrival - 7 months old
The first impression any of them had of the filly by Amarillo Sky coming in from Intrepid was the thashing, banging sound of screaming and limbs coming from inside the trailer. Cole had gone on pickup duty, and you could tell quite quickly from his face that he was less than impressed by the creature on board. "Be careful opening that door, she'll bolt," the trainer cautioned his son and the others gathered to unload her. They didn't need any more convincing than that as the filly screamed in the tinny vehicle, getting responding whinnies from around the farm. "Maybe back her up to the barn?" Minske said incredulously, as at least then they'd be able to block her in if she did get loose. When the trailer was in the correct position, Minske put down the ramp and slid in one door of the trailer. The filly stood at the front of the trailer, eyes furious and sides heaving as she pinned her ears at him. The second impression, then, was that he'd never seen such an angry child before. "Eeeeasy now," Minske started, voice low, and followed it with a continual string of assurances as he crept closer. The filly threw her head up, furious, but though she eyed the space behind the boy she seemed to realize there wasn't enough space for her to easily get by. She started to angle her hindquarters toward Minske when one of the yearlings outside the barn whinnied. It caught the filly's attention and she whinnied back, distracted just long enough that Minske could get in close to her and put a hand at the back of her neck. As she started to try and swing backward, he managed to get a hand into her halter. "Okay!" he called, and the doors opened for him. He pretty much water skied off trailer as the filly went down in a controlled bolt, grip firm and gravity centered with her. She pranced outside, trying to toss her head and rid herself of the nuisance. "Into a stall, little snake," Minske said pleasantly, digging his heels and forcing her forward momentum into a stall on his left. They'd let her cool down for a bit before making their next move.

Slippery - 9 months old
Minske rolled over with a groan, pulled blearily from sleep by the ringing of his phone but immediately able to find it with his hand - years of practice made muscle memory very sharp. "Who's foaling?" was his immediate question, though it was October and nothing was likely to be doing so. "We're off-season, boss," came the response, though the chuckle was strained. "But we've got a fence down from a tree and it looks like everyone's still in there except that Bellefire '16 filly. I can't find her at all, so you might want to call in the cavalry." Minske was moving before the old nightwatchman had finished speaking, cursing under his breath. "Yeah alright Nick, I'll get some people down there. Call me if you find her in the meantime." Jeans on, boots on, and the young man was into his truck with the high beams glaring. There were two gates blocking that small field off around the yearling barn, so she couldn't have gotten too far. Unless she'd broken through another fence. Or jumped it. The wind was high, and Minske nearly had to shout into his phone as he called Savita, who was also on call, as his windows were down. Her apartment was in a close barn, so she'd already started jogging out the door by the time Minske went through the automatic gate into the correct zone. As the old man had said, initial inspection of the albeit large area showed no immediate sign of the bay filly. But he could see Nick's truck in the distance, and Minske started his own grid search with his spotter pointed out the window. Minske's phone rang, and he quickly answered it, eyes never leaving the paddocks he was passing. It was Savita. "Minske I've got her cornered. She's up by my barn just on the other side of the fence." And then it occurred to him - they had a new colt up there, screaming and carrying on in the barn, and she'd apparently made a beeline up there once she managed to wiggle past the limbs of the downed tree. It took another hour to catch the little beast, as she managed to charge past them again and again in the early morning darkness, until they finally managed to just herd her back into her field - at which point she was okay being caught, since all of the weanies were going inside together for the night.

Under Saddle... ish - 1 year, 9 months
"Easy filly... easy filly..." Savita's voice was irritable but calm, hands on the bay's withers and back as she was circled around the stall. Minske was on the filly's head, and Tigris had Savita's leg as they went. The small woman bounced on one foot, focused on the filly's body without actually seeing her wide-eyed look. The bay irritably threw one buck, then another, but the humans held firm and after a few more laps she didn't seem bothered by Savita's hands on her. A silent look between the three humans and a smooth push from Tigris had Savita in the position that makes every breaker sweat - belly on the filly's spine, head to the other side, and hands her only escape mechanism if things went south. Luckily, an experienced team makes all the difference. The filly flicked her ears at the movement, wiggled sideways once, but Minske's attention on her head kept her from thinking too hard about it. Mora dropped an arm down the other side, matter-of-factly touching rather than petting, and only when the filly relaxed to that touch did Minske call quits for the day. Savita scooted out of the stall while the boys unsaddled the filly, and if she trembled a little, perhaps she couldn't be faulted. After all, Mora was a mean one, and everyone well knew that breaking could end up with broken bones for any or all of them.