It had been days since Amaranthe had shown herself around the herd grounds. She had whisked herself away to birth her foal, unsure if it was shame or protectiveness that drove her away from the presence of the others of the herd. Tirelessly she followed trails, avoiding the ones that still held the stale scents of the home herd or herds past. When she found a secluded place, she continued to feel wary of where she was. This was still not a place she knew and the exposure made her feel uncomfortable, her vulnerability showing through her strength. Hatred boiled in her blood as she stomped around, trying to find comfort. With every breath she took she cursed the stallion who had done this to her. The venom in her mouth made her sick through the birth. The moment her child was free of her body and she was able to stand, she lifted her hooves and her voice in a scream of rage. Before her was the proof. Shame embodied. Weakness breathing and becoming life.

But it breathed.

He breathed.

And he sneezed.

He stank of his father, his coat a steely grey that was a stark contrast to her midnight black. Minutes old, he was small and she could not believe him to be able to grow. His wet mane and tail were already thick with his friesian blood. Blood that should have been pure, should have been raised into greatness.

He sneezed again, and shook his head. A small call for his mother sounded from him. He opened his eyes, did not call again but started to struggle to his feet.

The mare watched him from feet away as he worked to get to his hooves. Each movement he made she could feel something towards him. A feeling she could not place. He snorted and struggled, until at last the mother lowered her nose in support and silent encouragement for him to rise. At last he made it and stood tall. He raised his head to her nose, receiving her cleansing licks. Quietly they stayed together, as hidden as they could be in the Bay.

In the days that had followed Amaranthe had debated between seeking out her herd immediately or continuing to hide away. Her uncertainty about her place in the herd, or Nephiliam’s possible feelings towards her child pressed her to stay away. She was not concerned about being able to defend herself, but worry about the safety of the foal tickled in her mind. Eventually she came to the conclusion that she would find them when she wanted, or they could come find her. That decided, she left the safety of the seclusion to take the colt on his first foray into the world, into what would be his home for the next few seasons of his life.

On the beaches of the Bay, the colt romped in the waves, splashing in the shallows and challenging the ripples with bugles of childish ferocity. Watchful and contemplative, Amaranthe watched him play until he tired himself out and flopped himself on the rocky banks to nap. Layers of thoughts clouded the mare’s mind, but she could not help but look at him affectionately while the rest of her body was tense and alert, ready to defend her son.

AMARANTHE

MARE :: FRIESIAN :: 15.3hh :: BLACK