It was warm in my home.

The thoughts of a newborn weren't many, but I knew it was warm, despite having never experienced cold before. I knew I was safe, despite having never experienced danger. I knew these things, for they were instinct. Ingrained into my very soul, the very way which I was put together, from bones and blood through to the consciousness that thrummed a healthy rhythm within my cranium. I move my little body, leaning into the walls that surround me, testing how far they could bend to my will. Only, I find that they begin to press against me. I am uncomfortable.. I am being squashed. I squirm more, and suddenly my front hooves feel a coldness hit them, followed soon by my nose, my shoulders and then my back half.

It is no longer warm in my home.

A bleat escapes my maw, even as I cough and splutter the liquid that had been lining my lungs up onto the sand that has become my new bed. I breathe, deeply, quickly, exhausted without knowing why, shivering to bring back that warmth that fled so swiftly after that horrible pressure had squeezed me out of my previous existence. My head rises, and from my sides, wings jut out, ill-sized to do anything but perhaps give me a bit more balance as my legs unfold from each other and put me in less of a prone position.

With a sudden twitching I find my ears focussing upon a sound, a voice, soothing and welcoming. Zenobia, it said, and my eyes focus upon the pale face near by, finally registering the warmth her tongue spreads across my hide as she presses away the leftovers of that liquid that could chill me to the bone if left too long. My voice is small in response, but it does reply, and the soft expression on my mother's lips fills me with a strange, new sensation. Elation? Happiness? Comfort?

Love?

Suddenly, there is another in my visionary pathway, and I feel myself recoil from him, my dual-hued forelock bouncing to and fro as surprise causes a small huff of a snort to burst from my nostrils. He says that word, that same word as my mother had uttered, before calling me little one. At least, I assume that it is me he is addressing - everything that happens here is a new experience, and I find my brain filling up very swiftly with many tidbits and snippets of information I am not entirely sure what to do with just yet.

Lots of movement, a flurry of sand and wings and feathers, and suddenly, there is a big, dark shield standing before me and the pale form of my mother. Perhaps if I were more observant, or simply older, I would notice the similarities between myself and this great hulk of a stallion, the shared dark limbs and tendrils, the wingspan - but such a connection does not yet compute in my simple, youthful mind, and I simply watch with doleful eyes as yet another arrives shortly after. The painted maw of Onni soon voices yet more words, most of them falling away against my mind in a muffled sense of misunderstanding, though I find a simple solace in the natural soothing nature of her voice.

As everyone's attentions swirl around above my head, I find my limbs unfolding even further, my pelt mostly dry now, my eyes adjusted to this bright world. It was bright to me - I had known only the inside of the womb previous to this, and so anything but the sheer darkness of that seemed blinding, until my eyes adjusted accordingly. My short bottle-brush tail thumps against my pale rump, as with my wings awkwardly find themselves thrust into the dirt in an effort to aid my confused legs into bearing weight. It takes some stumbling attempts, but eventually I am standing, and feeling all the more exhausted for the effort.

Naturally, I stay close to the one who cleaned me, who birthed me. She is all I know for certain now, my mother, my creator, my protector. My maw gently finds the side of her barrel, and I happen upon teats that contain a white liquid, which sets my senses alight and triggers my throat to swallow instinctively as my lips seek to gather more of this milk. I am ignorant to all around me now, as the simple processes of starting a new life take their place.