Harlequin could not explain it. It was something ingrained in the very fibers of her being. It was a part of her that had been so long hidden that not even she knew it was there. The need for solitude with her child. Harlequin spent most of her life alone, wandering the wilds of the world beyond the islands when father disappeared and mother took her children far from these lands. Tinuvel had been her place of birth, an island that she knew would forever be ingrained into every fiber of her soul for its fierce cold and daunting nature. However as the seasons continued to turn on Salem, Harlequin was quickly learning more of the desert lands that so resembled the homelands mother had once told her of. Mother had often regaled her as a child of desert landscapes and rolling dunes that seemed to ebb and flow like the ocean tides. Of course Harlequin would never have imagined that her return to the islands of her birth would result in her presence here in Salem. She had despised it at first, now, well now it had quite grown on her.

Nonetheless, the desire of solitude to birth her child came strong as the winds that rolled over the dunes. It had awaken her with a start in the middle of the starless night and guided her steps further from the herd as the shadowy clouds rolled like silent ghosts in the skies above. The promise of rain hung heavily on the breeze, sending an electric charge coursing through her skin that furthered the urgency she suddenly felt within her flesh. Pain. Sharp and distinct. The first signs of labor hit with a vigor that stole what breath she had in her lungs. Ears lace tight against her skullcap as anxiously she gives her proud head a toss. She did not like this feeling in the least little bit. Paper thin nostrils flare as steps less sure of themselves, lead her further away from where the small herd slept in peace.

The hours pass with only the soft rumbling of thunder or a flash of lightening to mark where she usually stood in quiet observance. The time seems endless in her mind and yet the process of birthing the foal consumes her, ridding her thoughts of danger, trespassers or rain from her thoughts. In this time, her only concern is expelling the wriggling foal from her body.

Twinge.

It is the name that first crosses her mind as she strains to rise from the cool sands that now plastered against her sweat darkened skin. Twinge. Her coat is striking mahogany against white even drenched in bodily fluids that confined her squirming frame. A plaintiff squeal pierces the silence as the tiny form bucks and kicks against the membrane that clings to her hooves.

For the first time, a motherly warmth floods through Harlequin's body. It is not the same sympathy that she felt seeing Cain hovering over the graves of Geneva and her foal, it was not the sympathy she felt for the abandoned colt that had clung desperately to his sire's side in the wake of its mother's demise. No. This warmth trickles through her veins, warming the once cold skin and filling her until she is sure she can take no more. Milk drips from her udders as tenderly she nips free the shield and brushes her lips tenderly over the damp skin. "Twinge" she breathes, her warm scent meeting the small filly's own as together their muzzles bump in the first of many.

Harlequin stands now, the nearby rustling bushes reminding her that though she may feel alone in this world with her new daughter, they are anything but. Ears flex backwards as dark black gaze scans the rocky terrain for any intruder but finding only a small big eared mouse nibbling on seedlings buried beneath the exposed roots of a thornbush. Harlequin snorts a warning and gives her proud head a shake before turning back to her newborn daughter.

It does not take the small filly long to discover that her hooves were no longer tangled in the remains of the sac that had once confined her. Muscles bunch beneath her small frame as she rocks herself upright and with the encouragement of mother's hovering shadow and the radiating smell of milk she finds her feet in an awkward stance.

Harlequin beamed with pride as Twinge buries her muzzle beneath her flank and suckles with vigorous gulps from her engorged teats. It felt oddly calming, feeling the milk flowing from her body and into the warm foal that stamped impatiently at her side. If only the world could remain still.... but that is not the way of the world. "Come Twinge. I know someone who will be very eager to meet you." she murmurs dislodging the foal from her flank and nudging the filly carefully back down the sandy dune towards where she had left Cain and the rest of the herd sleeping in peaceful bliss.

Twinge snorted defiantly as mother murmured to her. A single damp ear flicks towards the sound of her voice but instead of pausing to give mother a confused glance, Twinge instead focuses on the warm milk that filled gnawing hunger in her belly. However before she can manage to fully sate her hunger, mother moves off leaving her grasping at thin air. For a moment she blinks up at mother's shadowy form in the darkness, unsure of if a mistake had been made. No. Mother moved off on purpose as though wanting her to follow. Ears lay back atop her head as Twinge squeaks her displeasure. However the comforting warmth and newness of this world was not enough to keep her angry for long. One timid step after another Twinge finds herself testing her feet, sorting out the easiest path over the rocky soil. She was too determined to keep up with mother's slow pace to further voice her opinion... however mother would not be hearing the end of this until she had completely filled her belly.