I don't know very much, but I can see a lot of things.
Like the way mama tenses up when the white stallion appears. His footsteps distract me from my meal.
And the way he looks at her like he would tear her apart and put her together again like a doll.
And the way my skin heightens in anticipation of something, but what? I am not sure.
His eyes, red and frightening, meet mine. I squeal, my mother's tension finding an outlet through my own voice. After a moment, however, even tension becomes routine when it is all you know, and I resume suckling. She smells so good, my mama. Sweet and warm and gentle.
When I am finished they are still facing one another, saying words I am not much interested in. At least, not until I hear my name, in mama's soft, musical tones.
"Anguisette."
I perk my ears and nicker softly, looking from one to the other. Mother gives me milk. What does this other one do? He is big and white and scary. Maybe he chases away those black feathers that are always around? I nip at a feather on the ground near mother's hooves and grasp it firmly between my teeth. It tickles. I try out a trot, misjudging and tumbling gracelessly into the stallion. The feather is lost, and I lay on my side with a surprised look. My feet are not yet predictable.
daughter of Gryffen and Minette