It had taken a full day, but he was here.
Though she was unfamiliar with the process of birth, the pains had been mild and infrequent enough that she was able to mostly ignore them at first. Summoning her children--but refraining to explain to them what was happening--Ylva had instinctively wandered off a short distance from the herd: far enough for a bit of privacy, but not so far that she could not call for someone if she needed help. She settled in a little meadow beside a stream, where a few shards of ice still remained from the long, hard winter, and waited.
While she waited, Ylva had grazed the new spring grass and watched the twins entertain themselves. Now six months old, the twins were much more independent, and Ylva had begun to wean them in preparation for the new foal that was to come, fearing her milk could not cope with three whole mouths. She had even let them name themselves, for no names she could think of suited the pair of them. She could only pray that it would be easier to name a child of her own flesh and blood.
When the pains became so sharp and frequent she could feel her knees trembling with the effort of standing, Ylva had sent the twins away, instructing them not to go far. Only then had she collapsed to the ground, her vision briefly going black.
She could not have said how long it took, but when it was all over, the sun was rising. Ylva was weak, drenched in sweat, and bloody around the base of her tail. Yet she did not hesitate to check all over her newborn, anxious to be certain he was alive and well. He had hung limp from her for what had felt like far too long, but thankfully he seemed unharmed. He was a handsome little thing, too, a spitting image of her but for the white markings and somewhat slimmer build that his father had passed on. Ylva noticed those grudgingly, but she knew it would please Warsaw to see evidence of his genes in the colt.
Tendrils of morning light filtered through the evergreens, warming Ylva and the little body curled up beside her. She could have stayed there forever, but a rustling in the bushes nearly reminded her that she had other children to attend to.
After straggling wearily to her feet, and taking a long drink from the half-frozen stream, Ylva finally let loose a call to the twins. In spite of her exhaustion, a small smile touched her lips when she imagined them spying on her from the bushes. She wondered if they had seen the entire thing.
3; norwegian fjord; red dun pangare; 14hh
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