For Tigris, it was one of those things that constantly reminded him of the quick passage of time. It seemed like months ago that he'd ridden Sweet Inferno to her incredible Marathon-winning season, and he could still feel the elation bubble up inside him when he remembered the winner's circle for that race - the Valkyrie and SOPS teams standing side-by-side, the flowers blanketed over the tired black mare's neck. But it hadn't been months ago, couldn't be, because Tigris had a new spectacular black filly to ride out on. Radiant Heat, owned fully by Valkyrie but bred by SOPS, was the daughter of that very same champion mare. Tigris always felt nostalgic riding her, though she was a much nicer animal to work than her mother had every been. Where Sweetie had been a hellcat until race day, Hera found herself perfectly comfortable on the training track. she acted like an old hat far beyond her years, and she was the perfect training partner for the more nervous animals. It was only weeks before their first starts, and the excited optimism of the weeks leading up to the debuts had everyone giddy and nervous. It was so hard, at this stage, to say where they would end up at the end of the year. It was heartbreak and celebration, injury and triumph. But slowly Minske's endless optimism had filled Tigris' own psyche - regardless of how they were racing, each of those horses were special. They'd each do well, in their own time. The father and son trainers never rushed the horses, or pushed them beyond their means - they'd give them a chance, but were comfortable dropping them down in grade until they were ready to handle it. The attitude was allowed to be cultivated both by their success on the track and the absent ownership of the farm. Naos would have hovered if he was ever home, but his wife, Mae, had no such reservations. She was Tigris' cousin, and the sweetest woman he'd ever met - and she was the first to admit she knew absolutely nothing about horses. They'd never let her trust down.

Tigris glanced over his shoulder, since his mount was moving at a leisurely, confident pace down to the training track. Minske was behind him, seated on the much more uncomfortable Malibu Star. His blue eyes, when they glanced up, were smiling despite the nervous strain of the filly's muscles. Even if he broke a leg, or an arm, or a rib, he'd still find these creatures fascinating and fun. Tigris didn't think he could say the same. The light bay filly was a newer addition, and had a jumpy nature. She was from the first crop of Montgomery Acres' Malibu King, and they had high hopes for her despite the stallion's humble offerings. Valkyrie had become fairly well known for both breeding to and buying lines that were unconventional. Hybrid vigor, Larsa would joke, but still it seemed to be working out. Slowly but surely they were creating their own brand of horse, their own line of champions, and these juveniles were all part of it. The filly, Ali, was well-muscled and put together with a build that screamed versatility - the long hip and deep chest hinted at both distance and speed. She was as correct, or perhaps even more so, than many of the well-bred young animals on the farm, so it had been an easy choice once Cole had seen her. She hadn't actually been for sale, at the time, but the people at Montgomery had been willing to part with her once offered for. It was hard saying yet if the gamble would pay off, but she had done nothing to suggest otherwise so far.

Behind her nervous prance, held at the bridle by Cole on the track pony, was Gallantry. In the early dawn light he was like a copper penny, head cocked sideways as he nickered at the fillies in front of him. He'd get over it, once they were really moving, but the colt always had a bit of a hot head when he first saw fillies or mares. It was fitting of him, really. Because if Valkyrie had any say in it, this would indeed be a prize stallion someday. By the deeply lined former-Valkyrie lease Gallant Knight, who showed flashes of brilliance in his career, Gallantry was the first son of proven producer Enchantress. Though he was more on the bit and bold than his grey sisters, he closely resembled them in form - the mare definitely stamped her foals, and they were glad of it. Savita was aboard the colt, seat easy despite the striking and trumpeting she had to endure. She was the smallest of them, but she was fierce on the nastiest of colts, leading the likes of Mourning Passion and Alucard to their triumphant successes. She didn't even particularly like her charges half the time, but she took her job handily and kept them just as in check as needed. Everyone was pretty quiet, not wanting to work up the two excitable horses in the back, but the air of optimism was huge. Soon, these juveniles would hit the track for real. Soon, they would see what they could do. But for now it was just routine, three horses moving out onto the track in unison not unlike the chargers of old.