She wondered sometimes how her girls were doing, all of them, but often it was often a thought accompanied with sadness and so she tried not to. It was easier to let them make their own way. It made them stronger, she hoped.
So when her sides contracted and the birthing of another babe was upon her, she found a place to settle. The foal was born easily, after so many it made her feel like a veteran birther. She smiles when she sees it’s another girl.
“Oh beautiful girl, look at that hair.” She says with a laugh, her lips touching the orange mane and tail, traced along the spots. “Your father was a fine looking fellow. I’m glad to see some of his color passed along to you.” Another soft press of her lips against her forehead, her tongue cleaning and working and making the filly presentable.
She lingers longer than she had before, eventually getting to her feet and urging the filly along as well. She stays with her until she is full, until her eyes start to get heavy and then she presses a kiss to her forehead. “My beautiful Astarielle.” She stays longer until the filly is well on her way asleep and then brushes her lips once more across her forehead before she takes to the sky, leaving the small bundle sleeping in the green grasses.