Hoshor Plains sediment ii

Her first pregnancy- and without the guidance of her mother and sisters to help her. Fancy pitied the buckskin, and when she spoke of a deceased herd stallion, her breath hitched. With the stallion dead, the herd was left without a stallion's heels. She sighed heavily and reached over to scrub the mare's withers with side-to-side motions of her upper lip. "He runs with the Herd of One Hundred and Five now," She said; little condolence in the wake of loss, but it was all a horse could hope to accomplish if they had lived a good life. 

She considered mentioning how little time some stallions spent with their foals- but it didn't seem appropriate to do so. It might also make her worry about how her foal might be treated by a stallion who wasn't the foal's sire- and worry wouldn't do her any good at this point. The amount of stress she carried on her shoulders was already dangerous for one at this term. 

She breathed a warm breath along the buckskin's spine, glancing down her sides. "It'll be a filly," She stated, then. "Don't ask me how I know- I'm just good at these things. Could've been a Dreamspeaker in another life," She said.