As you rise from your bed, the warm-glow of your mother’s halo embraces you and guides you forward. Blood rushes from your head suddenly though and gravity tempts your weight back down. Though you resist, your strength is weak and long, gangly legs beneath you stagger as your small frame sways through the air – forward, teetering, plunging headlong. With a thud you collapse into the straw by the large hooves of the mare, and your eyes plead for reassurance as your damp face rises to find her. You whine softly, and her nose dips to caress you, to lure back your confidence so that you might try again. This time, she acts as a prop and you lean into her warmth until lax ligaments have stiffened enough.

Once you are standing, balanced and sure, your mother withdraws. Your tiny, quivering muzzle dances quickly after, but the movement threatens your stability and you freeze in place. Your eyes crawl ever so slowly over the black fleshy breast before you, there is a hump upon it and its shining silver surface reflects the comforting firelight – it is beautiful. Soon though you are distracted by that twist in your gut, and with legs splayed and tightened below, you crane your neck around; touching curious lips to the strange pimpled appendage slung by your side. It is not exactly where the hunger stems from (the rumbling and the pang), but you are interested nonetheless and stroke the rough prickles upon it with ears trained forward.

That murmur again and your attention lifts away.

Across knobbly, frail knees you stagger and quickly your reaching nose discovers the heat of your mother’s flank – your senses come alive with desire, fervour that you could not hope to defy. A sweet scent lures you in and slight skull dives through dim shadow; you nuzzle about clumsily, unsure just for what you are searching. At last you discover the source, slick upon her and warm as it leaks down your throat. You indulge with ravenous delight, tail twitching to the rhythm which evolves, and as your stomach fills a new weariness seeps through your mind. The hum of soft voices touches your ears, and you feel a lull sweep through you; part-naked wings sag further, ears nestle backwards. Quickly enough though, you are satisfied – the space within is small – and your tongue slips away beneath the curl of a dazed smile.

Warm words wander around you, yet they hold no meaning – they are a mere blanket as your legs fail and fold beneath, and you fall quickly with a thud. Though tiredness rises like a tide through your being, you fight a little longer, and listen with growing fondness, an ever expanding sense of security, to the tone resonating around you. Your mother’s breath followed your descent with maternal swiftness, and it hovers now over you; pausing as careful lips find your lashes to brush. ‘Zahra...’ you hear finally – right before sleep carries you away.