Ylva was relieved to see the foals follow her so willingly. Glancing back nervously at the body of their mother one more time, she walked a little faster, anxious to get them away from this place as quickly as possible. The restlessness in her legs, and the desire to run, was almost unbearable. She focused on the trees before them, peering through the shadows to make sure nothing was lurking, and almost started in surprise when the colt leapt in front of her. Ylva froze and watched him bucking on his gangly legs, her bewilderment quickly turning to approval. What a spritely thing he was already! In spite of her anxiety, Ylva managed to crack a smile when he took a tumble, and helped nudge him back to his feet.
“Ambitious, aren’t you?” she said to him, before taking a moment to check that his sister was still by her side.
Ylva led the foals deep into the trees, and though her fear lessened as soon as they were out of the open, she pressed on, wanting to put the scent of the dead mare as far behind them as possible. The forest floor, heavily laden with fallen leaves, crunched loudly beneath their feet, and with every step Ylva cringed, wishing there was a way she could walk on air instead. When the sun was low in the sky, sending shafts of golden light through the trees, Ylva finally began to slow and look around for a likely place to rest. She could hear the sound of running water nearby, and picked her way through the trees until the small stream appeared. She had not realized how thirsty she was, and quickly dunked her snout into the cool, fresh water until her thirst was sated.
Finally Ylva looked back at the foals, and her mind raced as she considered her options. Would they survive a swim to the inlet, where Ylva was sure there would be a lactating mare or two? As she looked at them, however, she saw how tiny and helpless they looked against the backdrop of the tall trees, and no doubt they were exhausted now. Even if they were not being deprived of food, she was not confident of their ability to swim for at least a few days, until they’d gained strength and coordination. So what now? Should Ylva just wander the length of the crossing until she found a surrogate mother for them? What if she couldn’t find one in time?
The thought of the foals dying choked her with tears, and Ylva turned away from them, unable to look at their little faces any longer.
2; norwegian fjord; red dun pangare; 14hh
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