I hadn’t know that my favorite Sleuth (my only Sleuth) was with child. Call it a curse of living as head of our kin; it seemed the higher I climbed within the ranks, the less I knew of the ongoings within my own herd. Between inter-herd communications, and various family events—this life had turned into a spasm of never ending requirements. Now it was known and understood why Kri had always seemed weighted when approached during private hours—her eyes, vibrant and strong were still clouded with worry, concern. Despite my stumbling’s as a leader, we were strong now, and growing stronger even with Kri’s continued absence. I could only pray this wave of luck stuck around.

Shadow had a lucky season with the rest of us. Any growth around her abdominal region was played off as simply eating a healthy meal. She remained active, but distant. I assumed it was her growing style as she settled into a ranked position.

During the early morning hours, before the sun had even climbed over its first few peaks. Fina returned from a hunt (as she often went off alone to kill during the cool of night), a worry has creased her brow and images stream to flounder my attempts at blissful asleep. For a moment all I can do is fight the foggy dreamscape; my stirrings are intensified when she starts to whistle again and again. Grumbly my head falls aside, locked knees bend and shift my weight to the right. “What is it?” I whisper into the night. She caws softly, strangely urgent.

“Shadow. Laying down.”

Wings shuffle irritably from their dragging position, they coil up and I pick up my head to glance back at the fiery bird, “So?” I asked, already growing more alert as shadowed visions from her mind transfer over to mine, “Blood,” she says quietly, “smell lots of blood.” Body stiffens and sleepy peace drains from my vision—my feet start pumping sand apart, tearing into the ground that had bedded my kin for generations. There wasn’t time to feel fear, only a base reaction held enough sense to surface, “Show me!” I called aloud, scrambling to ignite the air with wings that would speed me to her side.

The protective yearning instinctively takes lead. I inwardly dared whatever beast had wounded her to still be around; they would find little quarter under my hooves. What I found is indeed a battleground, but one of a different nature. Upon approach we could see Shadows pitblack frame laying ever so still across the sand. Panic fluttered alive, quickening my heart and making cool beads of perspiration rise. Strong appendages tip untucked feet rapidly toward earth—uncaring that the speed would later cause sore legs. Daggers kicked up soil and spread gold like a silent apology to mend my intentional wounds.

Crimson laced the sand like a poorly written song. I could smell the wet stench of her effort. Something moved weakly just beyond her flanks, that tiny bleat made my heart freeze its pace before frantically speeding ahead. A foal. The recognition was immediate, this wasn’t my first birthing experience—though I quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about Ktulu.

Steadily I approach my exhausted friend, she looked to be asleep. Likely from the task of giving birth. For a few spare moments I thought she would rise—welcome me with a sheepish but tired smile. No. The sly lass didn’t even twitch when approached. Nay, too much blood, I thought. Her chest was still rising and falling in that familiar steady rhythm, but every few seconds the pace was weakening. Each breath was becoming a struggle.

“Shadow?” I called softly, confused. Slowly my muzzled stretched toward her face with soft kisses that were usually only reserved for another, “Shadow? Come now my dear sister—stay with me, yonder babe will live and so will thee.” The cause of this distress, a tiny winged cherub colored exactly like his mother lay behind. I lay down beside them, stretching one large golden wing across the mother—attempting to warm her cooling body. “Onni, Fina. Find Onni as fast as ye can.” I say it aloud to Fina, so that Shadow knows that help is on the way.

Sometimes it was the act of focusing that kept individuals fighting, “Ye is not alone.” I kept talking small bits of encouragement, running my muzzle along her shoulder and barrel so that she would hear and feel the presence.. My gaze kept trailing to the foal, he was likely getting chilled by now. Calling upon my magic I forced the sand beneath his straining body to gently pull said babe toward my other side where another wing could cover his frame and keep the warmth from leaving entirely. There were no other dames to take said colt in, if his mother passed on. So would he.

She couldn’t’ die here. Not now, and not ever. My mind wouldn’t have the strength to let this one go, not when we had lost so many good friends already. They had ended up sprawled out across the sand, with nobody but their rotten shadows for company. It was how my dark skinned mentor had passed into the netherworld. Alone. Unforgotten by his friends, family, but very painfully alone.

I breathed out a heavy breath across her quivering flesh, she said my name and instantly my cranium fell toward her head. My name. Eyes searched for signs that would help calm a frantic heart, give me some hope that there was enough life in those darkened pools to keep her frame firmly tethered to earth. One ebony lid had drifted open, partly. I stiffened and hooked my neck across hers, feeling the muscles beneath our skin brush into the sweet smelling musk. The Sleuth spoke again, going on to describe how she had been attacked.

There really wasn’t time to feel anger right now….but that didn’t stop it from pooling alive in my breast as each drop of her blood was sucked up by the greedy sand. My mouth worked close until all ivories were ground down. It then dawned on me that she had mentioned a broken wing. I shifted my bloodstained feathers aside to see where the damage had been done; the color of my pristine feathers was making me feel sick.

Seconds later she started thrashing about, screeching to the night sky. Apparently I’d not been as prepared as previously thought, I started and jerked back a little. For a moment there was nothing to be done other than lay back, in an unsure shock of confusion. Should I stop her painful attempts, or let it pass? When the horrible stench of blood got stronger after each feeble kick; the decision was made for me.

The surprised stupor was cast aside. Golden sand rose from the ground to gently slide across each slender point of her black legs. Pure gold bloomed from the center and spread outward, hardening the rings into crude chains that were tethered to the drenched soil.

My wing had already risen from her barrel because I hadn’t wanted to hurt Shadow more than necessary by having a weight across her injured wing. It was very tempting to draw the lass closer and forcefully embrace her till the motions stopped. But to do so my appendage would be crushing the arches of Shadows wing—the pain might be too much to handle.

With strained concentration I pushed the golden chains down using a firm, but unforgiving pressure, “Please Shadow, forgive me,” I spoke aloud. Another push followed and my face contours into a mask of rigid pain as she struggles to escape some unseen enemy. This was likely hurting her, or scaring her. Or both; but there was nothing else to be done, and as much as I hated hurting her, this was painfully necessary. “Ye has to stop!” It was a lucky thing that I had moved the foal, her spine thrashed against my side, bending awkwardly. The warmth shared between us escaped into the night. Anger reared its ugly head, staring at me blissfully—eager to be set free.

I wasn’t angry with my Sleuth; fury was bubbling because of desperation, and the fact that I was powerless to stop her from leaving me. Another person I cared about would die tonight, and there wasn’t a damn thing to be done about it.

“Please,” I begged, to Shadow, to the gods, to anyone who might be listening. My shoulder pressed against her withers, trying to find leverage that would aid me in holding her neck still while mine draped across. “Ye can’t leave me here…not like they did. Not now! Please stop.” Words are bordering the line of frantic, and to my ears they sounded more like the pleadings of a frightened boy.

Another presence came upon us. A male, not of Throat origin, a foreign one with… a horn. A freaking horn! I saw him through my peripheral vision. His stench was as strong as blood, stronger even in a mind that was so freshly acute to their traitorous actions. Basin scum. How in the bloody hell did a basin unicorn make it past our defenses? My lips curl back into a snarl, I shift concentration, half to keep Shadow from killing herself and half toward this strange unicorn who dared approach us. Sand pools up behind him, forming the shape of six sharpened daggers—each pointing to a fragile piece of flesh.

He was crying, and in state of normal consciousness, on a bright sunny morn I might have cared to ask why. Right now there was nothing but ice flooding my veins, coldly I spoke up, “Ease away from her. Ye doesn’t have permission to be upon this soil. Leave now, or stand aside, I care not. BUT STAY AWAY FROM HER!” The daggers are now pointed toward his heart, one word and they fly free. Unrestrained. If he has sense enough to understand—the brute would turn around and walk away. Wing tightened protectively around the fragile babe.

I hadn’t really thought of the tiny child beneath my wing much. He a product of our desperation just as Shadow was; I couldn’t have known or cared that yonder stallion was his Da. In this moment it didn’t matter. All my eyes could see was a trespasser who happened to be a Basin cur—an amber eyed snake from the North. His cries would fall on deaf ears tonight, and if he pressed the matter further than my patience. Well…said fool would receive due reward. The ebony brute should have known not to tread upon territory that wasn’t his own, judgment would be swift in this circumstance. Had Guacho been here, it was likely the youngling wouldn’t still be standing at all; much less vibrating his annoying tongue.

Nay. Mercy had fled my soul. Overtaken by the darkness which threatened to robe a friend from my side.

The colt struggled to break free from my protective stance. Unable to maintain both concentration on mother, the weeping stranger and him—I was forced to allow said babe freedom. He struggled to rise, I bend my attention ever so slightly his way. She had brought into this world a strong fighter—and it was in that moment I felt assured that they simply had to survive. Even if it meant she would later come to hate me for choices to follow. At least they would be living, breathing. As long as Cera drew breathe, as long as Ktulu wandered this land. I would keep on protecting them—keep on caring for them, even if it meant shielding them from their selves if need be.

I didn’t care if they all would come to despise me. At least. They would live.
She might hate me for wounding or killing her lover—and later I might hate myself. Not now though. Nay, not now.

He stood, gracelessly and as awkward as a newborn should. I keep both eyes on the distant unicorn. Waiting for him to either bend to my will or strike, the magical sand daggers remained poised—either pain would drive him away or reason would. But he was going to back off one way or another.

He jumbles out sentences that I mostly
don’t understand; some other language. My ears lay flat, and lips are drawn back to show teeth. Normally calm and patient orbs are a pained glint that hardens as he continues to speak. I wanted to shout at him, yell for silence; cry for peace. His eyes fall upon the child and daggers draw an inch closer. One misplaced word, and one step. His blood would pay the price.

Finally the shackles around Shadows limbs can melt away; purposely I tilt my eyes to heaven. Fina screeches overhead, her wings ablaze with sun’s fire. She hasn’t found Onni. A hiss is upon her lips as she soars down to place her stance between the babe and our unicorn stranger. Aqua gaze, swimming with my storms and fury—she screeches a warning into the night.

“My child,” I call, voice raspy and hard, “Go to the border, find help. Find Guacho, send him here. Find a healer!” She doesn’t turn, nor fly off immediately. For a moment she simply hovers by, her eyes piercing into the coal colored brute.

Fina prepares to mount heaven, her wings lift toward the sky. I sigh deeply as she leaves—sparing a glance at the sobbing fool that stood by and the stout heart child who had risen. Before anything more could be done or said a shimmering shape comes into view. My gaze snaps up and narrows toward said stranger—another unicorn. Female and obviously still very much a filly given her delicate frame that hadn’t yet emerged into full adolescence. She approached and it took every ounce of willpower to not snap at her, that was until magic words slipped from those innocent lips. Healing. The child possessed some measurable skill to be offering up her talents, a deep sigh lifted from my throat, but it wasn’t one of disgust—more of relief. “Aye,” I said loudly, visibly relaxing into the dirt against the chilled mare who lay lax in desert soil.

Onni arrived quickly after, her speed a welcoming boon. As she landed my body rose from the ground, shifting to fall aside and give the two menders ample room. Though I lingered, keeping watch over the child and yon stallion that Onni seemed to know and be mostly unconcerned about. I could have very nearly rolled my eyes toward skull had the moment been less desperate—of course this gentle healer would know some random fool who pranced into our land.

She restored Shadow. After a few minutes the Sleuth appeared well enough to rise, I held back. Thankful that the danger had passed; when she touches the babe, I watch with a pricking heart with what tenderness passes between mother and child. Gaze shifts from them to the side as she moves to thank myself and our heavenly healer who always seemed to arrive in the nick of time. “Ye is welcome.” My voice is soft, quiet enough to be a whisper. Her blood dries upon my legs and I can think of nothing else to add. Shadow had been with child this whole time…did she not trust me enough to understand such valuable and precious information? “A fine name, he will grow strong.” I said finally.

There isn’t a waver in my tone now, and the sliver of a smile that breaks through the murk on my façade is genuine, effectively hiding the rich cut of betrayal that had been inflected. Unflinchingly I turn then toward the one they called Carnesir, “Ye has permission to remain within Dragon’s Throat for a night, but unless ye plans on turning from yon clan in the mountains…. leave this place before dawn the following morning.” At this moment it didn’t matter if they were a mated pair, he was a trespasser, and a warrior from the enemy by the stench—despite this occasion, he wasn't welcome on my land. “I shan’t have to tell of the consequences should ye decide to remain without breaking previous bonds…”