I escaped; at least, for now. I can still feel him on the edges, curled like a slit-eyed viper just beyond the edge of darkness, his forked tongue brushing my consciousness now and again, just to remind me not to forget …. If I just stay in the light, though. Just stay in the light.

I wake with a gasp, the gray of my eyes pale and troubled. I struggle to control my breathing, my skin damp and clammy, the humid air doing little to warm me. My child, the one I have been carrying for what seems like an eternity, pitches and rolls. A deep breath and roll up on my shoulder and then my chest, pausing again to catch my breath. I cannot shake the pit of uneasiness in my stomach. The shrouds of sleep cloy my senses and I look around dumbly, trying to jive this sickening feeling with the reality of my surroundings. I had stayed in Tephra only because I had nowhere else to go, not after the dark god and this mongrel of a child. The thing twists and kicks again, drawing a loud grunt from my mouth and pushing me to my feet. 
 
Shaking bits of dirt and the last vestiges of sleep from my swollen frame, I slip (as much as a heavily pregnant mare can slip) from the relative safety of my copse. Thirst scratches at my throat, hunger gnawing at my belly. Either that or the child has found my stomach a suitable chew toy. I have a sneaking suspicion it is tainted with my grandfather’s magic; I can feel it when it shifts. As a fetus, its skills are rudimentary but, I suspect, effective enough to continuously prolong gestation. 

There was a time that I tried to disguise my presence, making enough slight deviations that anyone looking would have a hard time finding me. Now, now I think I would rather die than carry this child much longer. Wallowing in self-pity as I am, I do not notice the silver buckskin at first. When I do finally notice, the proximity of the water wins out over my typical dance to avoid strangers. Eyeing the bright shock of his mane and forelock, I say nothing as I waddle a bit downstream of him and drink my fill. Water dripping from my chin, weary grey eyes meet weary silver and blue. "You look like you have a lot on your mind," I offer, desperate to escape my fate, even if it is for a few moments of mundane conversation.