Common

The spotted roan had spent many blissful days near the waterfall with her sister. Having confessed some of their secrets, they became closer than ever before; an easy task, considering they’d spent most of their lives apart. However, their happy days had been soon cut short. As the spring sun had warmed the air and continued to melt the snow and ice, the pool at the base of the waterfall took on an odd taste. At first, Eve had thought it was merely the distortion of senses she had occasionally experienced throughout her pregnancy. But when Iris mentioned something about it smelling off and refused to drink it, Eve began to worry.

Sure enough, the mare had felt the effects the next day. Her head became heavy and it was difficult to stay awake. She’d had to lay down to avoid falling over, and her sister had stood watch. Next came the abdominal cramping, so severe at times she’d thought that it was the start of labor. However, they had soon subsided and she was left weak and shuddering on the banks of the stream leading away from the waterfall. Thankfully Iris had been there to protect her. Who knows what predator may have taken advantage of her state otherwise.

Eve was lucky that her illness had lasted only a few days. She had still been quite weak initially, but as she roamed and grazed she felt strength returning to her limbs. Still, something felt off. It took her a few more days to realize what it was: her child had not moved once since her recovery. There was no one around her to ask if this was normal; Iris had never carried a foal, and they were rather isolated now that they had moved downstream a ways. Anyway, most of the other mares had already birthed their children, and she dared not approach the new mothers with such a trivial question. Surely it was fine, Eve thought. She was just being silly, and so she made no mention of this new development to Iris.

Almost as soon as she felt back to her normal self, the pains began. She had been right; the cramping from the contaminated water had felt similar. At first she thought since she had survived her illness, this would be comparable. How wrong she was. The contractions strengthened, and she no longer felt she could simply stand and wait for it to be over. She began to pace, pausing every so often to pin her ears and kick at her aching belly. Not wanting to bother her sister, she wandered off to cope with her labor in peace.

Unbeknownst to Eve, she soon wandered to the Common, where anyone and everyone could claim and be claimed. The change of scenery did not register in her mind, which was focused on getting through her birth alive. She’d heard the story of how Lily nearly died bringing Iris into the world. Finally she felt an agonizing desire to lie down and push. She needn’t have worried about knowing what to do – her body was telling her everything.

A primal groan escaped her throat as she lowered herself to the earth. Sweat darkened her sides as she strained to expel the foal. At times she felt that she was putting in so much effort with little reward, but then she glanced back and saw that progress had been made. Her head fell to the soft grass and she began to push again. She of course had nothing to compare to, but in the grand scheme her birth was relatively easy. Within an hour she felt the tiny being slide from her and she heaved a sigh of relief.

She lay there for a few moments longer, catching her breath after the proverbial marathon she’d endured. At last she lifted her head and neck to peer curiously at the foal. It was still surrounded by its protective membrane, which was red in color. Eve had no point of reference to know that this was abnormal. She had never seen anyone give birth. But she knew enough to know that whatever the color of the membrane over the child’s face, she should get it free. Immediately she lurched to her feet and rushed to break the sack with her teeth.

It was too late. What Eve didn’t know and might never discover, was that her illness had affected her placenta and caused it to detach early. The new mother didn’t need to know why, though. She knew the end result. Her baby, her perfect baby, wasn’t moving. Panic spread through her gut as she rushed to clean the membranes. Deep down she knew it was futile, but she had to try. Tears streamed down her face as she licked, then pawed gently but firmly at the lifeless body.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, NO!” Her voice raised in pitch with every word until it was the pitiful pitch only a truly grieving horse could make. Why was this happening to her? She looked helplessly down at her perfect child – a filly the same red clay color as her grandsire. A speckling of white hairs graced the girl’s hips. She was beautiful. And she was dead. Eve’s knees buckled beneath her and she pressed her dark muzzle into the soft, still side of her daughter and continued to weep.