The last several months have been hard for Zjeena. Winter offered some relief from the daytime heat and the brutality of direct desert sun, but as the weather improved, Zjeena's body became the burden. Zjeena is not a big mare, and to carry a pregnancy like this has put every strain on her tiny frame. Her flanks swelled to impossible size, and she was always hot. She was drenched in sweat, even on the coldest of winter nights. She waddled about, movement restricted by her own enormous belly, and her back, oh did her back ache. How do other mares do this more than once? Zjeena wonders to herself. Never again! she swears.
Liland is not a big stallion either, so her struggles make little sense to her until one very early morning. The sun has yet to crest the horizon so the desert is yet cloaked in darkness. Labor pains grow with intensity. Zjeena's vision swims. There are moments where she's certain she'll die, here in the dark, far from her herd, and writhing in pain, but instinct won't let her give up. She bites her tongue to silence her cries, and tries for hours.
It is when the first light of dawn sets the horizon aflame and the sandy earth glows a rich gold between long shadows that a filly is born. She is expelled into dusty earth in a mess of her mother's blood and tears. Zjeena rolls into an upright position to clean her daughter's face and check for signs of life. She is exhausted, but the concerns of a new mother give her the strength to carry on.
The filly trembles, cold and wet, but feeling, for the first time, the warmth of her mother's touch. Zjeena's mind reaches for a name she's tucked away for this day, but before the name can pass her lips, new contractions silence her. It is only a few more pushes and a colt enters the world, almost identical to his sister in both size and color.
In the moments following the birth of her son, Zjeena thinks nothing of how lucky the three of them are to be alive. What happened this night in the desert is nothing short of a miracle. Zjeena acknowledges the miracle, but for different reasons. Her heart beats with a new kind of love. She is exhausted and in pain. She is worried. But most of all, she is happy.
Zjeena shouldn't have the energy to get up, but she does, because she has to. She hurries to clean her babies and urge them to their feet. The new mother dotes upon her two perfect children, and pride swells in her heart. She savors their newborn smell, the softness of their fur, and the little noises they make as they suckle for the first time, but sweet bonding cannot last forever. They must leave this place, and rejoin the herd, otherwise risk attracting the attention of predators.
Come Havelle, Nattergal. Let's go find your father.
Zjeena finds him near the watering hole. She calls out. Her voice sounds strained, a sound to match the tired lines upon her face. Zjeena is bone tired, deflated, dirty and her tail is stained red with blood. Her progress is slow, still feeling the pain of a difficult birth, but her eyes sparkle with pride and her mouth curls into a weary smile. "Liland," she cries, and tears begin to fall, tears of exhaustion and tears of joy. She says no more and out from behind her first wanders little Havelle, curious and bold.
The filly prances on unsteady new legs up to her father, and thrusts her tiny snout towards his. Her fuzzy little ears prick forward, and her eyes are bright with wonder. Her face is a young reflection of Liland's.
Nattergal peers cautiously around his mother, but waits to see how the his sister fares before venturing away from the familiar warmth of Zjeena's side.