You fall from the dark grip of oblivion quickly (the meditative pulse you love is lost in a split second), faster than your numb mind can comprehend – though earth-side welcomes your arrival with only warmth and tenderness. There is no chill to terrify your hot, sodden hide; you are well protected where you lay, by both the thrum of hearts united behind you, and the chiselled stone of the mountain’s core surrounding. You will feel not the pain of abandonment today, nor the callous hand of indifference, and emotion comes upon you as suddenly as a feather burns.

Though a chaos of sound overwhelms your slight ears, they are yet to understand to the truth of this world, you hear only the sigh of your mother’s gentle breath as it reaches to comfort you, and your fine features lift readily to meet her. Your pale-yellow eyes are blurry as they strain to find logic in the dazzling, dancing hue of firelight rising about her – you have seen nothing but blackness up until now, and your skin trembles nervously as you reach with quivering nostrils to try and touch it.

Fear is something unknown to you – sadness, grief, pain. Only amazement plays through your childish expression, incredulousness and trust. One ear swivels backwards, and then the other when touch ignites your skin, and tiny shoulders tremble beneath the power of her tongue’s determined caress. You are compelled to speak, but your throat still holds mucus enough to stunt all effort; instead a frail cough breaks apart your thin lips, tiny part-grown teeth, and you startle at the noise it generates. Your mother does not flinch, and her stability gives you strength. You find yourself leaning nearer, craving her notice.

She gives it to you freely and as her kind gaze meets your own, you try again to speak, but the looming horse turns away and for a moment your heart sinks - all so much faster than your lungs can draw vigour. You are needy, but that is to be expected, and she returns swiftly to reconnect. There is another figure drawing near, following her in, and you gaze at the dark contrast of his face beside hers and the golden scrawl upon it.

All too soon though you are feeling overwhelmed, turning shyly, tiredly, and you rest your fleshy chin against your shoulder as jaws part to yawn. The other’s musk is heavy and so different to your mothers and though you are not frightened, you pine for the exclusive scent of the mare – but you will learn soon enough of his relevance.

There is a feeling rising through your core however, and it is more ravenous than your fatigue. Hunger is something that forces the return of your innocent eyes, but you are drawn quickly back to the stallion’s black mask, your father, and you study him with pricked ears and sharp breath. There is softness about the lines of his face that intrigues you, but alas you are unable to resist the twinge of your empty stomach. As your abdomen rumbles inaudibly, one velvety, black ear strays down to listen, but you hear nothing of the vibration otherwise felt. Confused, you turn towards your mother at last, and a puny whine slips by your teeth.