Slowly, deliberately, Elias lowered his hands. He relaxed his grip on the leather reins, letting them go slack against Cinder’s neck. It was a sign of total trust. Without the constant tension of the bit, Cinder didn’t slow down; she stretched her neck further, her stride becoming long and effortless.
Elias was not the fastest jockey at the Briarwood Derby, but he was certainly the most patient. His horse, a stubborn chestnut mare named Cinder, had a habit of fighting the bit. Most riders would saw at the reins, forcing her into submission, but Elias knew that Cinder only ran her best when she felt she was choosing the path herself. hands_down
Elias looked to his left and right. There was no one close enough to challenge them. He felt a strange, sudden peace. This was the moment his grandfather had told him about—the moment you knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that the race was yours. Slowly, deliberately, Elias lowered his hands