Mid-day, it is warm and clear and beautiful; spring has chased out winter and its icy grasp. The Inlet is quiet today; the dark-haired mare has caught glimpses of the others, but they seemed busy, so she keeps to herself and decides to retreat to the seaside, spending her afternoon grazing upon the seagrasses. Their salty taste lingers on the back of her tongue - she finds it rather pleasant. The golden mare is just about to make her way inland when a distant cry catches her attention. At first, she isn't sure she heard it correctly - then there is another, this one desperate sounding - coming from the waves. She becomes panicked. She paces the shoreline, blue eyes locked on the sea, waiting for whoever made the call to emerge from the waves.
Eventually, a flaxen chestnut mare becomes visible in the water, and Freya gasps as she reaches the beach just a few yards ahead of her - she looks weak and is very heavily pregnant. She is at the white-haired mare's side before she even reaches the bushes, collapsing from what she assumes to be is exhaustion. That swim can leave anyone feeling tired, and a pregnant mare is even more vulnerable to the sea's frigid grasp. Freya wonders why on earth this mare would want to make the swim so late in her pregnancy. To her, it seems foolish, risking her and possibly her child's life in such a way. Then again, she is sure this mare has her reasons - and there is no time now for judging.
When it becomes clear that the foal is on its way, Freya becomes nervous and worried, both for the mare's health and the health of the as of yet unborn child. She is still fairly young - having just come of age recently, she has yet to bear a child and doesn't know what to do in a situation like this. She tries her best to help this stranger relax and make her birth a little easier. She offers comforting murmurs and words of encouragement; occasionally, she will press her muzzle into the mare's skin, gently grooming her and hoping it will somehow make things a little better.
Night has just begun to fall when the child emerges from the chestnut's body. It struggles to its feet, and Freya breathes a sigh of relief. However, her relief is temporary. She quickly notices that the mare has yet to move or even stir from her laying position. Blue eyes dart from the foal to the mare and then back again.
"What do I do?!" she asks frantically, hoping the mare at her hooves will be able to provide an answer.
