Zjeena is being crushed by the weight of such devastating news, and by the abrupt onset of a difficult labor. Her body screams with the pain of something amiss. Her heart races in her chest, and her mind plays tormenting images of the last time she and Sabela saw each other. Paradise spins in confusion. Is Sabela really gone? What's wrong with this foal? Am I going to die? Is my baby going to die?
Serious questions deepen her shock. A wave of numbness sweeps over the mare, and for a moment, she lie still on the beach.
Monster is talking. Zjeena can hear everything she says, but the voice sounds so far away, like a murmur on another island. Dark eyes drift up to the worried face of her friend. God, Monster is beautiful., Zjeena thinks to herself. Tangled strands of Monster's mane play in the ocean breeze, and draw her attention further out, to the vast expanse of sky beyond Monster's silhouette. She can picture her soul rising into the great, blue abyss.
For a moment, Zjeena is at peace with the thought. Her life flashes before her eyes. Memories of those she's loved and lost, places she's been, and adventures she's had, feelings of love and sorrow and joy stir something within her. Then Zjeena remembers Monster. She remembers their first battle on the common isle, the playful banter they've exchanged, and the more serious conversations they've had about pregnancy and motherhood. Zjeena's eyes look into some faraway place and her mouth curls into a smile.
Monster.
Another flutter of mane, a turn of the head, and Zjeena sees Monster, the real monster, standing over her, protecting her, guarding her, loving her, like no one else ever has. Call her greedy, but Zjeena wants more. More love. More adventure. More Monster. More Rougaru. More Havelle and Nattergal.
Wild eyes come back into focus. The pain of living smashes the glass of a dying moment. Somewhere deep within her, a determination forms. It is a raw energy that ripples and grows until it has no where to go but out. It escapes through her mouth through the most guttural of sounds. It is a scream not of this world, a sound so loud to wake the dead half a world away, and haunt the ears of Atlantis forever.
There is a flutter of movement in the trees nearby as any other animals retreat further into the jungle.
And Zjeena pushes. She pushes with every strength she has, mortal and ethereal. One tremendous effort expels the colt onto the sand.
He passes in a mess of fluids. Zjeena is torn and bleeding heavily, but a sudden concern for her newborn colt takes control of her body. Ignoring her condition, Zjeena heaves herself to her feet. Unsteady legs carry her to him. Tears stream down her face, as she vigorously cleans him, clearing his nostrils and praying to any god who will listen that he lives.