Fancy groaned, and her nostrils flared as she settled down against the ground at last, after pacing for the better part of the morning and early afternoon. Her breath caught in her throat, and the sorrel stretched out her neck for a moment against the ground before she grunted, and began the effort of bringing her foal into the world.
While she'd once prayed for a filly, all she prayed for now was for the damn foal to make a swift and peaceful exit, though she knew such prayers would never be answered. She'd birthed three foals, she could do it again- hell, she'd even had a year off from being a mother- an entire year to heal up and be torn open once again with the birth of the fourth.
"Wolf's teeth!" She swore as she pushed, and with that effort the foal began to emerge. She could tell by the feel that the head would be soon- and the shoulders next. She knew @Selenia would be within earshot- she had not strayed far from her friend's side, not when the herd was so small- but nevertheless she felt no shame as she uttered a string of curses passed down from one generation to the next as the foal's chest emerged, followed swiftly by the rest of its body.
She breathed, and now she prayed. In her heart, she dreaded succumbing to Sycha's curse, that she might look upon her own foal and feel nothing. She lifted her head, mane hanging in tangles against her sweaty neck, as she peered over her still-round belly to see a foal- dark and wet still, but even through its filmy caul she could tell that it was sorrel; copper as a newly minted penny.
She whickered, softly, and curled her legs beneath her, careful not to knock the young one who took only a moment to be still before beginning to move. She cleared away the foal's head first, breathing puffs of air over the generous chrome that spilled down the forehead all the way to the nostrils, before she removed the rest-
and noted as she severed the umbilical at the foal's belly that she had, at last, given birth to a daughter.
"Go back to the hellhounds for another year, Sycha," She uttered under her breath as she marveled at her newest creation, one she loved already more than life itself. Her filly began to prop herself up on shaky elbows, pressing her soft hooves into the earth where she teetered like a ballerina. She was keen to reach her feet before her coat even had the chance to dry- a sign of excellent health. Fancy gave her daughter a nudge, and raised her voice, just as the filly began to rock and lunge, toppling over in her first wobbly attempts at rising to her feet.
While she'd once prayed for a filly, all she prayed for now was for the damn foal to make a swift and peaceful exit, though she knew such prayers would never be answered. She'd birthed three foals, she could do it again- hell, she'd even had a year off from being a mother- an entire year to heal up and be torn open once again with the birth of the fourth.
"Wolf's teeth!" She swore as she pushed, and with that effort the foal began to emerge. She could tell by the feel that the head would be soon- and the shoulders next. She knew @Selenia would be within earshot- she had not strayed far from her friend's side, not when the herd was so small- but nevertheless she felt no shame as she uttered a string of curses passed down from one generation to the next as the foal's chest emerged, followed swiftly by the rest of its body.
She breathed, and now she prayed. In her heart, she dreaded succumbing to Sycha's curse, that she might look upon her own foal and feel nothing. She lifted her head, mane hanging in tangles against her sweaty neck, as she peered over her still-round belly to see a foal- dark and wet still, but even through its filmy caul she could tell that it was sorrel; copper as a newly minted penny.
She whickered, softly, and curled her legs beneath her, careful not to knock the young one who took only a moment to be still before beginning to move. She cleared away the foal's head first, breathing puffs of air over the generous chrome that spilled down the forehead all the way to the nostrils, before she removed the rest-
and noted as she severed the umbilical at the foal's belly that she had, at last, given birth to a daughter.
"Go back to the hellhounds for another year, Sycha," She uttered under her breath as she marveled at her newest creation, one she loved already more than life itself. Her filly began to prop herself up on shaky elbows, pressing her soft hooves into the earth where she teetered like a ballerina. She was keen to reach her feet before her coat even had the chance to dry- a sign of excellent health. Fancy gave her daughter a nudge, and raised her voice, just as the filly began to rock and lunge, toppling over in her first wobbly attempts at rising to her feet.
C'mon, up you get,She urged, before she raised her voice.
Selenia, come see! We got a live one!
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Mint - by Fancy - March 05, 2025, 08:24 PM