She has had a number of pregnancies, and is quite the experienced broodmare. However, she is quite sure she has never been this large before. Her sides are massive, each one swollen and unsightly against her tight silver fur. This child is going to be a mammoth, and she damn near drools at the prospect of such size, such strength! It does mean that pushing the bastard out is going to hurt like a bitch, but as Nyx knows from her history as a warrior, there is no gain without pain. She drags down a few more blessed mouthfuls of grass as the first bout of contractions ebb, knowing she won't be eating for a good few hours now.

The silver soldier has already picked out her birthing place; a massive tree near the edge of the herd's borders, with soft foliage beneath it for comfort and with the colossal trunk placed behind her, to guard her rear from predators. The large branches hang thick and low like a protective roof to keep off the worst of the elements from both her and her newborn, and it's near enough to the herd's border for the child's father to be able to visit if he so pleases. She moves towards this tree and begins to circle, getting herself settled ready for the long hours ahead. Labour is a lengthy process, and she is no maiden mare unsure what to expect - she knows every step of this prolonged dance, and settles herself down for the long haul. She knows that attempts to get comfortable will be futile, but that doesn't stop her trying to fight the inevitable. Stand up, lay down, roll, stand up, circle, stretch...Hours pass in a haze of sweat and pain, and before she knows it, the sun is dying to be replaced by the hungry moon. The rays reflect off her damp grey coat, giving her an ethereal, otherworldly glow.

Night finds the grey mare splayed out, massive sides heaving and neck beaded with moisture. Foam dribbles from her lips, and her eyes are narrowed to agonised slits. Her breathing is haggard and her ears are slicked flat against her head, whilst her mane flops in sweaty tangles around her skull. She's exhausted, bored and uncomfortable, and knows the worst is yet to come. Contractions are child's play compared to the indescribable sensation of having her unmentionables stretched like a damned elastic band. One final spasm tells her that it's time, and millions of years of natural instinct take over. With a great snort of effort, Nyx feels a warm, wet body push its way out from beneath her tail - new life, growing like a promise from her thighs.

In one fluid movement she rises to her hooves, allowing gravity to do the rest. Her child slips from her, landing in a damp bundle by her feet. Immediately, maternal instincts grip her like a vice and she turns to snuffle around her newborn, cleaning the mucus to free the airways and licking life into those moist, quivering muscles. It is a filly, a daughter, a stunning girl of her father's blood-bay fur and white splotches. Her tiny, velvet-covered nub of a horn is the colour of Nyx's own, and her dewy eyes are the ironheart's electric blue. She is a little beauty, and the silver huffs gently into her nostrils to initiate the bonding process. The smell of her newborn swells her heart with love and the urge to protect and nurture, and she begins to gently nudge the filly to encourage her to stand, with delicacy that the warrior rarely displays.

But something doesn't feel quite right. She still hurts everywhere, and her filly doesn't seem large enough to explain her massively swollen pregnant stomach. Her brow furrows, concerned, alarmed...oh, surely not.

Oh, shit.

Another contraction rips through her, and she lifts her lips in a savage hiss. "Arse-biscuits," she curses, pinning her ears. Twins. Twins! "I only signed up for one." Not two. One! Of course, two is better than one, but that's easy to say when you don't have to force the other little shit out of somewhere that feels like it's just been sandblasted. She has no choice, though. Instinct takes over again, and with an agonised whinny she allows her body to give over to nature.

By the time the second foal leaves her, she is physically and mentally shattered. He slips from her in a splurge of blood and more pain than she's ever experienced, but she scarcely has the energy to look at him. Her knees fold and she tumbles to the ground, just about summoning the strength to clean her son. He, like his sister, is a gorgeous child with dapple grey fur and a lion's tail, his horn-nub a bright hue of crimson. She clears his airways and presses her nostrils to his own, as she had with her filly, solidifying her bond with him. She can only give him a half-hearted nudge to encourage him to stand, however. She can't stand herself - it would be hypocritical of her to expect him to.

But she has to stand. It's how nature goes. She stands, so do they, and they suckle from her to get that valuable first milk - but does she have to stand right now? She has aaaaaages to get to her feet. It doesn't have to happen right this second. Yes, this is true. She'll just rest her chin on the ground for a minute, maybe even shut her eyes. Where's the harm? No, god dammit, you need to protect your children, get up, you weak piece of piss! She can feel her mind shrieking at her body, lamenting her weakness, loathing the helplessness and bone-fatigue that the double birth has plagued her with.

The ironheart has just enough about her to nudge her twins into a bundle and arrange her exhausted body in front of them, keeping them safe between her and the tree so any predator or ill-meaning horse will have to break through her to reach them. She'll stand and feed them in a minute. Just a minute. She'll just shut her eyes for a second first...

Unconsciousness beckons her like a beacon and yet, like the warrior she is, she fights it. She hovers between awake and asleep, clutching onto the tiniest thread of consciousness, aware of the world around but too tired to even notice the pool of blood spreading unpleasantly and ominously from beneath her tail.

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Yay d'Arcy and Libertad are things! @Déodat and anybody else welcome, some healing might be good as she's currently fighting off unconsciousness and bleeding badly!