"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She remembers a white coat. Soft lips brushing over her forehead. White feathers that tickled her face. Dark brown eyes that held no hate or love just a sad resignation. She had fallen asleep with milk on her whiskers, her eyes getting so heavy after her belly was full of milk. She had blinked mahogany eyes closed and remembered nothing else but the blissful sleep of the young.
When she woke up, she blinked groggily. Her eyes opening slowly as she subconsciously searched for the warm presence that had been with her when she had fallen asleep. She leaned back where it had been only to find empty air. She fell backwards, legs shooting out in her surprise as she attempts to slow her fall. She is awake after that. She lays there on her side, her one eye searching around where she could see. Where had she gone?
The slight pain from her small fall had already faded. She folds her legs back up and sits back up, turning her head this way and that. Where had she went?
The girl bleats, all black limbs and body with a pair of wings tucked tightly to her sides. She calls for her, calls her back for the comfort that she offers. She has no idea what to call her, mom isn't something she has learned yet.
The bleat had called a fairy to her. "Tsk, tsk. Another one," she says to herself. Then a warm smile to the poor foal. She seems to concentrate a moment. "And she didn't even name you...very well then...Graeme it is!" And she cuddles the poor filly close.
Time passed by quickly that first day. It is almost evening when the filly collapses into a heap of legs. Her breathing is ragged from having played a game of chase with the fairy that had found her that morning. There is a gleam of intelligence in those eyes now, having battled passed the ignorance that had been there this morning. But she was still an orphan, still without someone to love her.
Raxa never viewed herself as the type that would ever take on the job of raising a foal. Most mares would leap at the chance, as well as females of other species. It was viewed as a horrible fate to be infertile, as it meant that you could not have a family of your own. Not that Raxa would have minded, given she had never spent a lot of time around foals to begin with. Could one blame her? She'd been on her own her whole life.
However, there was one thing Raxa would never pass up: checking to make sure others were okay. Sure, she was moody, temperamental, cautious around others, and had a very quick rush to anger, but when it came to the safety of others, she was all for it. Especially for foals, because she knew what it was like to have to live on your own. She didn't want any foal to have to suffer that way.
So that day, when she was running through the Fields after taking a break from her training as a warrior in her kingdom, the mare skidded to a halt when she noticed a shape lying all by itself among the grass. It was a bit hard to see, given it was in the evening, but Raxa, like most animals, did have keen eyesight, even if she couldn't see directly in front of her own nose.
The brindled roan carefully made her way over, just in case this was some sort of trap. When she saw that it was merely a small filly all alone, the mare's gaze softened. She balked a little at seeing that this filly had a set of wings on her back, but then again, Raxa lived in a kingdom that was ruled by a stallion that could change the color of his fur so that he looked like a leopard. Wings weren't that big of a surprise at this point.
Lowering her head, Raxa gently nudged the little filly, being careful to not use a lot of force. She spoke in a soft voice, one that surprised her given she'd hardly ever spoken that way to anyone, much less used a gentle voice, "What are you doing out here by yourself? Without shelter too."
She’d never really thought about adoption before. In her old herd, foals had never been abandoned - they’d been too rare, too precious. Mothers had simply taken care of their foals, no matter the difficulties or deformities. In the rare occasion that a mother died, the foal had been taken on by the lead mare.
But, ever since meeting Weir’s adoptive daughter, and discovering her own pregnancy, the topic has been playing on her mind. It seems so cruel, so horrible, that some mares actually abandon their own offspring. The love she feels for little Newton is stronger than anything, and she simply can’t imagine deciding to give that up. She would die before giving up her son.
But …
She’s seen firsthand the good that abandonment can sometimes end with. She’s seen the love and care between Weir and Neva, and knows the roan stallion cannot imagine life without the little speckled girl in it. Despite their lack of shared blood, they are family, as true as any other. And Eira knows that Neva’s life is better for having had the chance to become Weir’s daughter.
And perhaps … just perhaps she can give that chance to another child. She’s full with milk, she knows she could take on another. And her heart aches to think that there might be a child suffering in the den. So one day when Newton is off playing with Weir and Neva, she makes her own way to the den.
Within moments of arriving, the scent of other horses fills her nose. She tracks the scent, coming out upon a brindled red mare and a tiny little winged foal in the grass. Eira approaches, and it becomes immediately clear to her that the foal (a filly) and mare are not related, that this girl is one of the poor abandoned ones that ends up in the den.
She clears her throat, trying not to startle them, then raises her voice. “Is she alright? Does she need milk? I have plenty …”
Raxa's head turned when she caught the scent of someone else approaching. Glancing over, she saw it was a mare like herself, with a healthy looking bay coat.
Oh great, another 'normal horse'... probably going to stare at me like I've grown a second head...
Yet, to her surprise, the mare questioned about the foal, instead of staring at Raxa. The brindled mare was taken aback a comment had not yet been made. Though, she supposed that some of these horses were different, like the ones in the kingdom she now called home. She just wasn't used to somebody not commenting on the odd coloring of her coat.
"I'm not sure," Raxa said, looking at the filly, "She hasn't said anything yet, but she looks real tired and hungry if anything."
Brown eyes watched the mare creep closer, eyeing her warily. She shifted, moving her head from down between her legs to staring straight at her. Her ears flickered back and forth as she caught the rustling of the grass, subconsciously filing that away. Rustling grass means someone approaching, someone walking. The fairy had told her that being here in the Adoption Den meant that someone could come here and find her, giving her a home. It almost meant she was always safe as long as she stayed here, some invisible magic that kept it that way, so long as she stayed within the boundaries. The Playground was also safe.
So when the mare acted like she was delicate china, the little filly snorted. She lurched to her feet when she tried to touch her, dodging her nose. Her ears falling back into the tangles of her mane. You would think a little girl would be dying for affection, but she was still trying to work out this whole being dumped without a family thing. The fairy had said that it would probably be for the best as her mom had dropped off other children of hers here. Her birth mom had always looked so sad when she did so.
However, that did little to ease the ache in her heart. It soon turned to anger and so when the mare spoke, Graeme replied. "You're in the Adoption Den. It's not exactly a picnic here." Her ears flickered as another tiny soul found out it had been dropped in the distance and a cry of sorrow echoed around them. Some were angry, some happy, some sad. They all experienced it differently.
Graeme was just angry right now. She would grow out of it, get over it but she had only just been born after all and was finding out she had no one, or others she didn't even know.
This other mare shows, Graeme's tiny wings flap in agitation, but she cannot help when her stomach grumbles almost seemingly in response to her words. "I'm fine...just abandoned." Her tone is snarky and longing all at once. She tried to ignore the sounds of her stomach growing again, turning instead to look for one of the fairies so she doesn't make this mare feel obligated to take her and feed her.
And maybe give her a home.
But there are none around and so she sighs. A great big sigh that makes her head droop a little. (Meanwhile the sound of crying can be heard again in the distance.) And then feeling braver than she has all day, she looks at the mare who's full of milk. "Can I go home with you?" A head tilt to the other. "Sorry but you can't feed me." She looks back to Eira longingly. "Oh, the fairies named me Graeme." Here she manages a small smile that softens the lines of her face.
Raxa was a bit stunned at the fact that the filly was up on her hooves so fast, then went on to tell where all three of them currently were.
When she then turned her attention to the other mare, seeing that she probably would be better equipped to care for the filly, Raxa nodded in agreement, "You should take her. She does have a point. Besides, I don't do well with foals anyway," she commented.
Without another word, she turned and broke into a gallop, intent on getting back to the kingdom to continue some more of her training.
