Alpenglow had kept herself very busy throughout the cold winter months. She had spent the majority of her time roaming the rolling meadows in search of food. She was afterall supporting not one but two lives. Initially she had been concerned about finding enough nutrition to grow a new life. The meadow had been transformed into a giant mud puddle by heavy rains at the start of autumn and the earth had barely had enough time to recover before the first snow fell. Fortunately for Alpenglow the crossing island was large enough to sustain not only her but the other horses that chose to reside here on a permanent basis. It had been difficult for her to be both physician and patient during her pregnancy. She felt that things were going well and she was due any day now. While most mothers would be nervous or excited she was neither. If anything she was frustrated. Her knees and her back ached from carrying all this extra weight. And she couldn’t remember the last time she was able to lay down comfortably. She just wanted this thing out of her already! Her wish was granted one night when she couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard she tried. As the contractions came she paced in a wide circle. She did her best to remain calm and counted the minutes between each bodily convulsion. Mares had died giving birth and she had to go through this procedure by herself. She be lying if she told you that she wasn't terrified. When the time was right she laid down and pushed. When the dawn broke she was staring down at her son. Most mothers would probably be thinking something along the lines of ‘wow, what a beautiful baby’, Alpenglow looked over her newborn with cold clinical precision. He looked healthy. All his limbs seemed to be functioning and most importantly he was breathing. She could see that there was a metallic sheen to his coat beneath the blood and ambiotic fluid. He also had stripping on his legs and painted white patches across his body like hers. She frowned for a moment as she remembered her mentor's words from many years ago, ‘pretty babies sometimes mean sickly babies'. She did her best not to worry about that now as she dutifully licked and cleaned her son. Doing everything in her power to dissociate herself from what she was doing and not to be disgusted by the taste. |