Sweet sister stands, and Oizys hungers to mimic; she has risen once, and it was wonderful, yet she has lost far too much blood for it to be a realistic possibility again today. The snow is stained red with the juice of her veins, so she has to settle for simply bulking her fledgling, baby-bird muscles to demonstrate to Father what strength she has, whilst twining her dextrous twig of a tail around her still-damp buttocks.

They are fine, black twins with their injuries and their defiance - they are daughters worthy of him, man mountain, master of eagles! There is hope for them, when they come from the seed of stone and the womb of steel!

She just wishes she didn't hurt so much. Then, she would be able to stand and display her finery to him, to bound amidst his monolithic legs and dream of one day growing to a height akin to his.

Suddenly Enyo's muzzle is there, and she inhales her brood-mate's scent - it mingles with the reek of her own blood, but even the coppery tang cannot overwhelm the heady aroma of sister. She whickers, greeting, loving, learning that the bond she shares with this other furry bundle will be an important one.

The little goddess has already learnt one valuable lesson today. Mother loves them unconditionally, without question. Father's respect - for she knows not if he can feel love - must be earnt. Mother will hold them as they take their first steps, support them as they run - Father will stand in the distance, a hulking angel of death, so they may feel his ire should they fall. Mother will be impressed, whatever they accomplish; Father must be impressed if they are ever to be allowed to wear his name on their shoulders.

This is known, now. She understands that her parents are different, and that Father will not offer his affections as Mother does.

All the more reason for her to fight to obtain them.

She has also learnt of pain today - what it is, how to fear it, how to respect it, how to own it. Little grey filly is learning, absorbing, devouring knowledge like a carnivore eats meat!

After pressing her velvet muzzle to her sister's warm flank, the grey filly crawls back towards her dam's welcoming side. She arches her neck, diving for milk, drinking until it dribbles down her chin and turns ugly grey as it mingles with blood.

Then, with a final glance to stone-sire and brood-sister, she collapses into slumber at her mother's flank, absorbing the mare's heat to keep herself warm against the winter chill.