Kadda Atan ran for the joy of running. The wind of her passing caressed her pale skin, brushed her black coat, tugged her glossy black mane and tail, and carried away the tensions of her day. And for a six-year-old she had far too much tension.

Her coach had shown her off to a potential sponsor after today's classes. The old woman had checked her over more thoroughly than a skinned rabbit in the low market. The depth of her barrel, muscle tone of her legs, clarity of her eyes, condition of her hooves: no doctor had clucked over her more than that mother hen.

Then Coach ran her through her exercises and stretches. She ran an easy two and then a four furlong that barely lasted long enough to make her breathe heavy. She was finally allowed to stretch herself in a thirty-two furlong. A full twelve minute run allowed her to really show her stride and demonstrate her breathing control. In the next year she would be allowed to run farther, but thirty-two was the limit for her age.

All centaurs were born to run, but some, like Kadda, were gifted with extraordinary athletic ability. Her reflexes and powerful rump allowed her to leap off the starting blocks a body-length ahead of her peers, and her thin figure and long legs gave her a long stride that ate up the course. Her natural abilities had been, were being, enhanced by the knowledge and training techniques of her coach. She seldom lost, and always placed.

So coach showed her off. At her age sponsors funded programs, not individuals. Without her scholarship Kadda's mother could never have afforded to send her to the Vernonia Academy. And in earning her athletic scholarship she helped to garner funding for other scholarships, some for athletics, and others for scholastics. So Kadda worked hard in her classes and on the track.

The route from her school to the Forest Gate Plaza was lined with flower gardens, olive trees whose grey leaves arched over the avenue, and dozens of shops, stores, and businesses, all with patrons and workers, homemakers and craftsmen going about their business. Teamsters towed carts and wagons while porters piled merchandise on their broad, sturdy backs. Centaurs stood or reposed at counters sipping tea or mulled wine, playing at chess or carfour, or gossiping with neighbors.

She threaded her way through the broad but busy street, oblivious to the occupants of the ordinary scene as other than obstacles to be avoided.

As she exited the avenue into the plaza she saw her friends over by the fountain. Darza, a walnut-skinned bay stood between Giadda, a sorrel with almost chocolate colored skin and a new-penny colored coat, mane, and tail, and Aiemi, a small-boned piebald whose stark white and black patches continued on her bare skin.

They came together with hugs and the high-speed chatter that only six-year-olds could comprehend. After Kadda had been brought up to speed on the latest gossip they began to practice a new dance Giadda had learned, and with arms linked the foursome began to circle the fountain dancing and laughing at their missteps.

On the fourth circuit Sypan, a grey male their age with creme mane, tail, and feathering, clopped in front of them in a clumsy immitation of their dance that set them all laughing. Giadda paired with him and began to show him the steps at a slower pace.

Kadda saw the laughter leave Darza's face and quickly realized that her friend was falling into jealousy. She had never seen blue ice, so she didn't understand Darza's dreamy musing about Sypan's ice-blue eyes. But she knew her friend had a crush on the clumsy male who was currently dancing with their friend.

Darza was a little farther along the curve of adolescence than her friends, though of late Kadda had begun to bind her small buds when she raced. The thought gave her an idea, and taking Darza's arm, Kadda began a dance that was simple and bouncy. Then she artfully maneuvered so the two pairs faced off: Darza against Sypan and herself against Giadda. They danced out the challenge and, as planned, Sypan's eyes could not turn away from the bouncing Darza.

Kadda laughed as she noticed many other adolescent males in the plaza looking their way. But Giadda increased the pace, and she had to concentrate to keep up. By the fourth round Sypan dropped out, and Darza in the next.

Giadda's natural grace and Kadda's precision kept them going, round after round, faster and faster. Giadda's hooves began to throw rainbow-colored sparks and Kadda became aware of the crowd watching them when they oohed. The rules forbid her looking at her own hooves, but a glance at Aiemi showed that their friend, her face a study in concentration, was using her magic to augment their dance.

In Giadda's turn she added to the pattern, and it was all Kadda could do to keep up. A slight mis-step that Giadda covered with her natural agility was, when Kadda tried to perform the step, an obvious error. Kadda laughed as Giadda ran through the pattern a final time, flawlessly, and with flourishes that turned the complex dance into a fluid expression of joy.

The crowd's applause drowned out another sound as the girls hugged, then drew Aiemi into the embrace. Kadda looked around for Darza, and instead of her friend she saw the cause of the other sound: the sound of a parade of pipers coming into the square wearing yellow and gray harnesses and ribbons.

Supporters of the Verbena School, displaying their colors, paraded into Forest Plaza: it was a challenge. The colors of Vernonia, Kadda's school, were violet and green, and were typically not much in sight after school and away from the games.

Older centaurs watched as the youths in the plaza lined up, surrounding but not impeding the progress of their rivals. The procession, lead by a row of five pipers, received jeers and catcalls as they approached the fountain.

A youth, about fifteen if the growth of his beard could be trusted, stepped between the pipers and pointed at Kadda!

"There she is! The black with the blaze!"

Kadda was shocked into inaction. Her only reaction was to tug the white forelock that dangled down the side of her face back over her right ear. But Giadda pulled her behind the line of males that jumped between her and the invaders. Several large females filled in on the flanks, and the grumbling of the crowd grew.

Beside the pointing male a grey female stepped through the pipers, who had shoved their pipes into their backpacks and looked to be ready to fight.

The grey female, about the same age as the male, was decked in ribbons of yellow and grey, and she wore a yellow backpack.

"Kadda Atan," she said, "They say you are the fastest in the city. We say you are not. We challenge you on your honor to defeat Ryar Mellit of Verbena Academy!"

A young dappled grey male stepped between them and Kadda could not help but judge him as she judged her opponents in a meet. He was an older five or a young six, with a cropped black mane. His legs and chest were thicker than hers, and his muscles showed the definition that could only come with a high protein diet and rigorous exercise.

At his age he looked strong. As he grew older his increasing bulk would be a problem; heavy muscles were not desired for distance running. His hooves were thick and ridged, indicating his diet was too heavy in meats and too light in fish, nuts, and other sources of fatty oils. He was probably very good at the shorter runs, she thought, but would have muscle pains after a twenty-four or thirty-two, and as he grew older his growing muscle mass would make the long distance races even more difficult for him.

Kadda slipped her arm from Giadda's and squeezed between her impromptu bodyguard.

"Hello, Ryar," she said. "I'm Kadda. You must know that unsanctioned races can get us expelled..."

"Who's going to tell?" the teen asked in a threatening tone.

"Me," Kadda said. "I won't lie to my coach, and tomorrow on the field she will ask."

She turned to speak and then looked back. Her gaze zeroed in on his front left hoof which had a metal strap stapled around the front. It bound a split in the hoof with about one third of the hoof regrown above it. It was a crippling injury for a racer, and rare. In fact, she had heard of only one such injury.

"You are Hanar Vil. You were favorite for the sixty-four two years ago."

"I'd have won if Vernonia wasn't a pack of cheaters!"

The crowd began to grumble again, but Kadda said, "I wasn't there, and neither was he." She pointed at Ryar. "And I never cheat."

She turned back to Ryar, saying, "I can't wait to race you, officially, on the track. I bet you're a beast in the four furlongs! But I've worked too hard to lose my scholarship in a street race, and I'd bet you have too."

"I told you!" Hanar shouted. "She's a coward, like all Vernonia!"

Someone began to make the buzzing sound that was used as a cheer by the Vernonia fans: a crude imitation of the sound of their bee mascot. It was quickly picked up by others in the crowd.

An elder began to shove his way through the crowd, barking at those who blocked his way.

"What is going on here?" he demanded. "We'll have no hooligans in this plaza!"

From the other side of the plaza the sound of hooves in a trot, matching strides, indicated the arrival of the constabulary. Four officers in white harness wearing the tall white hat which was so conspicuous used shepherd's staves to push through the crowd.

"There will be no street racing on my watch!" the very large bay female with white stockings on all four feet announced in her voice of authority. "Who is responsible for this mob?"

The elder pointed to Hanar and said, "He leads those Verbena fans!"

The officer turned to confront the invaders, but Kadda was watching Ryar. He looked embarrassed and defiant at the same time. And Kadda knew that an athlete with black marks on his record could lose sponsors.

The officer was giving them a speech about the dangers of street racing and starting to ask for names.

"It's not a race challenge, officer!" she shouted.

Kadda felt very small as every eye in the crowd turned to her. The crowd was so quiet in that moment that a mockingbird in a distant olive tree made the loudest sound in the plaza.

"It isn't?" the constable asked. "Then please tell me what is going on here?"

"Dance," Kadda said. It was all she could think of at the moment. "A dance challenge."

The Verbena gray said, "Yes, we heard they enjoy dancing, and came to join in the fun."

"Dancing?" The skeptical officer said, "This I have to see!" After an awkward pause, she said, "Well, get on with it!"

Kadda stepped into the clearing space in the center of the crowd and, looking only at Ryar, said, "The Stag!"

She went through the simple pattern once, then again when Ryar joined in. Then Giadda and Aiemi were on her flanks and the grey and Hanar flanked Ryar. A Verbena drummer took up the beat, and within another turn the pipers joined in.

Ryar smiled and in his turn changed the steps to the Turkey Trot. The dance was suitable for a promenade, so in her turn Kadda linked arms with Ryar and began a procession around the fountain. Two by two the Vernonia and Verbena dancers paired and followed them.

The leading pair passed the frowning constables seven times, changing the steps through all of the elementary dances each time. By that time the rivals were laughing and clapping out the beat. With each circuit the musicians played a beat faster, and for some in the procession the elementary steps were proving difficult.

Kadda lead Ryar to the constables and turned to face Ryar as she stepped out the challenge. He matched her, and the real dance began. Other pairs quickly dropped out, and in turn after turn the dance became faster and faster, until only a handful of dancers were keeping up.

Ryar missed a step, and in that same step Kadda stumbled. She tried to make it look accidental; she didn't want Ryar to feel as if he'd lost.

She recalled her own early races, and how winning built up her confidence, and how difficult a loss could be. But she had learned to learn from her mistakes, and to accept losses without taking them personally.

But now she and Ryar were both out of the dance, and they were being ignored because all eyes were on Giadda and the Verbena grey.

Where Kadda's dance was precise and almost mechanical, Giadda moved like water. Or fire. And that gave Kadda a mental image of water and fire dancing. Passionate, graceful, powerful, controlled.

The musicians were beginning to fall out as one by one they failed to keep up with the ever increasing pace. Then the last drummer faltered, tried to keep playing, and was forced to quit by the staccato clap of hooves on pavers.

Both reached their limit. Neither could go faster, but neither missed a step. They finally came to a hard stop at the end of the pattern and stood facing each other, their upper chests heaving in alternate time with their barrels.

Laughing, they came together in an embrace, and celebratory shouts and cheers went up around the plaza. The classmates from rival schools were locking forearms, hugging, bragging. Almost unnoticed, the constables vanished.

In the next hour as the sky turned to rose and the sun raced to the horizon Kadda had time to talk to Ryar. They talked races: breathing, exercises, diet, discipline. They talked friends, gossip. Ryar told his stories with a twist of humor. Kadda forgot most of what she said, and didn't remember how they had come to be pressed against one another along their flanks, arm in arm. But it was a pleasant sensation.

A whooping near the fountain caught their attention, and they saw the grey waving to Ryar with a strange smirk on her face.

"I have to go," he said.

"I can't wait to see you again. In the races, I mean."

"Yeah," he breathed. "Me too. I'm going to beat you!"

"You wish!" she said as he trotted away.

Darza came up beside her as the Verbena team formed up and, lead by their pipers, marched out of the plaza, escorted by the cheering, jeering Vernonia fans.

"He's cute," Darza said. "I didn't think you liked the muscley type."

"He's a racer!" Kadda said. "And by the way, where were you?"

"We took a walk. I hear we missed all the fun."

"Something tells me you didn't miss all the fun!"

"Neither did you, apparently," Darza said with a smirk. "Come on, Aiemi is waiting for us!"

Darza cantered back toward the fountain, and Kadda followed. Along the way she wondered if her coach would be willing to recruit a sprinter.