The winds were angry this morning, so Iona decided she’d cut her airborne patrol short for the day. Just before Iona’s hooves reached the earth, she was caught by a great gust of wind and thrown into the branches of the tree nearest to the edge of the clearing. She let out a huff at the decidedly ungraceful landing, far from the usual for the well practiced pegasus. She gave her wings a once-over to ensure no feathers had been knocked out of place.  Content that no damage had been done, she folded her wings tightly against her sides and prepared to disappear among the thick mess of trees. However, something out of place caught her eye before her first footfall fell.

Something, it appeared, had also fallen victim to the wind.  That or her little tangle with the tree.  Iona set her lips in a firm line before stepping closer, narrowing her emerald eyes as she tried to make out what it was.  When she saw what it was, her dark lips pulled into a frown. 

A single egg alone in a nest that had evidently been dislodged from its home in the branches.  The egg looked unharmed and was a creamy white mottled with reddish-brown patches.  Iona cursed under her breath before studying the branches of the tree above, trying to discern just where the nest once sat. Maybe if she could just put it back the mother wouldn’t notice.  However when she looked back to the nest, she noticed the
“No, no, no,” the mare muttered, in a panic. “I have to put you back first!”  She looked around wildly for any larger birds, but to no avail.  This chick was hatching, and seemed quite determined to rid itself of its shell.  Iona worried if she replaced the nest back in the tree, it would simply blow right out of the branches again.  Paralyzed, the mare watched dumbly as the little bird freed itself of its shell and stared up at her with beady, golden eyes.  Iona wasn’t at all sure what she felt.  There was still the guilt and the panic - but there was something else there too. Something she didn’t understand. That confused her and made her uncomfortable. 

“Oh no, don’t look at me. I’m not your mother,” she muttered, taking a half-step back from the bird still tucked safely in its nest.  But the little bird was unrelenting and quite obviously starving. So hungry, in fact, that Iona was beginning to believe that she could feel the little bird’s hunger.  But that was absurd, so she simply brushed away the thought as nonsense.  But it did begin to dawn on her that she in no way had the capacity to take care of a baby bird but at the same time she felt herself utterly unable to abandon the helpless thing.  So she stood there entirely perplexed about how she’d gotten herself into this mess, utterly confused about what to do, and suddenly inexplicably ravenous. 

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