The instant he had slipped from the only home and comfort that he had ever known, the boy did not miss that up was blue and down was yellow. Certainly as he grew, he would learn the appropriate names for these things, and it was a small blessing that he knew which way was up and which way was down. It had also been sheer determination that had been borne into him by some parent that had brought him to his feet in so few tries, hobbling in the direction of his mother's tempting teat (and encouraged by the soft prod that she gave him in the right direction) and feeding loudly.

Hidden away under the quickly slimmed belly of his mother, the boy looked more like a shadow and less like a child. All but disappearing into the lightless shape that formed at the bottoms of the mare's feet and shielded him from the sun, the boy finished his first meal with a childish chirp. Contented with his now-full belly and the warmth that surrounded him on all sides, he stood quietly underneath Laurel, the top of his head and his tiny ears poking up against her belly near her mother's teats, behind her ribs. With Mother's black nose resting against his small, black rump, the boy spreads his legs to brace his own weight, closing his eyes almost lazily against the bright new world around him and the sleep that would overcome him after feeding.

But first there was one more task to be had. Mother begins to move and he turns awkwardly in her direction, bleating in protest as she walked away from him and blinking in confusion as she called him. It would take some days before he recognized that the sounds she had made were words, and that one of the words she had used would be his name- a gift that she had given him that he would be able to keep until his dying day.

Stepping forwards, he finds himself stumbling across the sand as his small hooves sink into the ground, causing him to tumble, but once more his determination has him at his feet again. Once more he is hobbling in the direction of his mother where she had paused to make sure that he was following, and once more he found himself succeeding in the task of trailing behind her. It wouldn't take him long to find his legs for the great sand-sea that his mother had bore him upon, but for now he walks towards her in a strange fashion. Picking up his legs he twists them to the side, trying to splay them out to brace himself and walk at the same time. Certainly he was conducting his first performance of Silly-Walks, but he made it to his mother's side.

With a proud little squeal once more, the boy is ready to follow his mother where ever she may lead him.