My memory rests but never forgets
What I lost

When Arris and I finally left the Falls after spending the night, I was washed with relief to be moving again, though my heavy sides made my progress cumbersome at best. I could not say for sure why I was so intent on reaching our destination, only that I was feeling increasingly anxious. Perhaps it had to do with my pregnancy, a hormone thing. Or perhaps it had to do with the faint tightening sensations I had been getting periodically in by abdomen over the last few hourse. Though I knew my time was due - and I did want my foal to be born - I had been telling myself that these were not contractions. I didn't feel at all ready and desperately wanted to reach the peak and find a safe, sheltered place to give birth, but my child had other ideas.

By the time the terrain had began growing rocky, the ground slanting upwards the more I trudged; I was in full blown labor. There was now no denying that the painfull rippling sensations that hit my barrel were anything but contractions. My breath was becoming labored and I had to stop during contractions, waiting for the pain to pass before continuing on my way.

Eventually though, I could tell I could push on no further. My foal was coming and I needed to find a place to birth him. With a low snort I turned of the narrow trail Arris and I had been traveling and ducked into a clump of pine trees, not waiting to see if she followed. It was late evening, the sun had set and only a pale red line was visible over the horizon. By the time I finally gave birth in my sheltered spot beneath the pines, it was dark out and silent.

I scrambled to my feet, my sides slicked with swet, then nudged my child to it's feet and looked it over. It was healthy, perfectly formed and far frome the undersized colt I had born before. But it was also a filly. I stood there in bewilderment, eyes slightly cloudy as I watched, mistafied as she stood before me on her spindly legs.

A filly. It was only now that I realized what I had done to my self. All through my pregnancy I had envisioned bearing a colt. I had been so certain. But I had set my self up for failure. In those first few moments gazing down at my newborn filly, just able to make out the dark sheen of her still wet coat in the dark, it all became clear. I had been hoping, clinging to the falls ideals of a do-over. It had been subconscious, yes, but I now realized that I had not been hoping for another foal. I wanted my first one back.

I felt a sudden revulsion at my self that I should yearn for a child and then when it was born... a faint sigh slipped from my lips. She was lovely and fragile looking and I told my self that I did love her, should love her. But still a small voice in the back of my head whispered away. She's not him. You wanted him.

I blinked away the disappointments as well as the anger at my self when I realized she had not yet nused. Had just been standing there on her shaky legs, her nostralls flared and head turning slowly frome side to side as if surching for something. I stretched out my neck and nudged her with my muzzle in the direction of my teats. She stumbled, regained what little balance she had, and proceeded to nurse.

In the darkness, I whispered to her, coxing and soothing, not a hint of the saddness I knew I should not be feeling in my voice. "There you go my little Beanna, my little crow. Drink up and be strong."

Silver grullo | 14.3hh | Rocky mountain horse | 5 | The Savanna | Gecko