Minette watches with a bemused, encouraging smile as the first time mother nudges her little daughter to her feet. She remembers fondly her own times nudging a wobbling child to take their first steps (although in Leck's case he had leapt to his feet as if spurred by wolves). As if in anticipation of its own impending entrance, a small kick makes itself known in Minette's growing belly. The gray mare smiles in spite of herself. She does love children and she loves her own no less ebcause of how they were sired. Still, she hopes that one day she can have what Felinae has. The birth of a little one with no reservations.
Not completely no reservations, Min thinks suddenly, correcting herself. After all, they are both in a precarious position in this half abandoned mountain herd headed by a capricious dictator.
Minette thinks of Magnus. She wonders where he might be and whether he thinks of her. The gray mare both dreads and longs for his appearance. It would be a confirmation that her day of freedom was not a hazy, happy dream.
The winter fog parts, however, to reveal an entirely different form; her yearling son, a handsome boy with wickedly sharp horns and an almost bored look gracing his features. Minette nickers a low greeting, swishing her tail to halt her agitation. Rarely does a new mother appreciate the presence of a stranger.
“Besra is a beautiful name, Fel.” Minette says in a gentle whisper, nudging her friend, trying to let her know that she would not be alone through these dark days.
With a steady look in her eyes, backed by iron, Minette turns to her son.
“I'm glad you have come to greet your new herdmate, Leck.” Minette says, her voice even. Her own belly is stretched full of Gryffen's child. The gray mare feels there are plenty of the white stallion's offspring in the world. Exhaustion washes over her as the weight of her third pregnancy hits her. Three children in as many years is a burden on her body, and it strikes her as too much. She wonders if Gryffen will want more, and if she can bear it.
Not that she regrets the children themselves. Innocent creatures cannot help the evil that spawn them.
“No. The child is not Gryffen's. But she is a part of our family. This is Felinae, and her daughter Besra.”
Minette watches as the girl moves closer to Leck, unknowing and naïve. A small wave of panic grips the gray mare's chest as a peculiar look flashes in Leck's eyes. Besra looks tiny, vulnerable, when compared to the dark colt and his towering horns. Instinctively she moves forward to intercept the little girl, putting her body between the children. Minette loves her son, but she also fears him in ways that make her ashamed. No mother should carry a weight of wariness towards their offspring, but Leck triggers as much of a prey instinct in her as Gryffen once did.
Not completely no reservations, Min thinks suddenly, correcting herself. After all, they are both in a precarious position in this half abandoned mountain herd headed by a capricious dictator.
Minette thinks of Magnus. She wonders where he might be and whether he thinks of her. The gray mare both dreads and longs for his appearance. It would be a confirmation that her day of freedom was not a hazy, happy dream.
The winter fog parts, however, to reveal an entirely different form; her yearling son, a handsome boy with wickedly sharp horns and an almost bored look gracing his features. Minette nickers a low greeting, swishing her tail to halt her agitation. Rarely does a new mother appreciate the presence of a stranger.
“Besra is a beautiful name, Fel.” Minette says in a gentle whisper, nudging her friend, trying to let her know that she would not be alone through these dark days.
With a steady look in her eyes, backed by iron, Minette turns to her son.
“I'm glad you have come to greet your new herdmate, Leck.” Minette says, her voice even. Her own belly is stretched full of Gryffen's child. The gray mare feels there are plenty of the white stallion's offspring in the world. Exhaustion washes over her as the weight of her third pregnancy hits her. Three children in as many years is a burden on her body, and it strikes her as too much. She wonders if Gryffen will want more, and if she can bear it.
Not that she regrets the children themselves. Innocent creatures cannot help the evil that spawn them.
“No. The child is not Gryffen's. But she is a part of our family. This is Felinae, and her daughter Besra.”
Minette watches as the girl moves closer to Leck, unknowing and naïve. A small wave of panic grips the gray mare's chest as a peculiar look flashes in Leck's eyes. Besra looks tiny, vulnerable, when compared to the dark colt and his towering horns. Instinctively she moves forward to intercept the little girl, putting her body between the children. Minette loves her son, but she also fears him in ways that make her ashamed. No mother should carry a weight of wariness towards their offspring, but Leck triggers as much of a prey instinct in her as Gryffen once did.