[open] an abandonment; any

[Anath]

all these voices in my head get loud
i wish that i could shut them out
i'm sorry that i let you down

It is a messy business, being born. A bit like breaking the surface after being almost drowned, or so she will think one day when able to make the comparison. Arriving into the open air is disorienting, too bright for bleary eyes, and loud with the sound of one's own breathing.

Light weaves around the mare who speaks to her in words she can little understand. Those fingers of light catch on rivers of gold and highlight a sweat-soaked chestnut skin. The infant will remember this only vaguely, for her green and gold eyes track the dapples of sunlight alone. She hardly pays any mind to the sturdy chestnut sabino.

Is this why she leaves? The woman insists that the filly look into her still blurry face and repeat some sounds until they sound correct enough. "Anath." Repeats Anath, and then she stumbles into a patch of sunlight only remembering to look for the mare once she is already gone. Confused, and only knowing she should not be alone Anath calls out fretfully. Her child's voice is too small to carry very far, and what is she meant to call out with beyond a meaningless and lonely whinny?

Turning in a circle, her dark and fuzzy pelt collects a halo of light on the ends of every wooly strand of hair. Anath does not notice this. She turns again, and the sunlight twists with her pulling around her in glowing gossamer threads. In another turn, she wraps herself in light, not a spiderweb tangle but something soft and warm. The filly's legs fold beneath her and she settles into a swaddling nest of sunlight. Gazing across the meadow she imagines the mare returning to her over and over until she begins to doze.

anath

let you down