The pains had come late in the night. They were gut wrenching and persistent and wholly unwelcome if only because it terrified Phantom more than anything ever had before. It forced the mare to quickly seek out a place that was secluded and private so she could sink down to the ground and allow her body to do the work that it had to to expel the foal that she didn't want from her body. The whole ordeal was little more than a blur of pain and exhaustion to the the white mare as she stood looking down at the tiny thing that she had created. Her head tilted and her ears fell back because she didn't want to think of it as cute or hers, but there was a nagging feeling gnawing at her that was hard to ignore.

She dipped her head down and sniffed at the tiny body, her muzzle rubbing against the damp, painted fur as she finally allowed whatever maternal instincts were housed within her to rise to the surface. She knew that the child had to stand and that it had to nurse, so she nudged it, whickered softly, and prodded at his hindquarters to encourage him to rise. "Come on, child." Phantom whispered and it occurred to her then that he needed a name, but what could she call him? If she named him would that make her want to keep him instead of letting him become his father's problem? For whatever reason, one that totally and completely baffled her by how illogical it seemed, the mare found that she wanted to name the child that she'd carried and birthed on her own.

Her muzzle ran along her son's back and she stepped closer to him. "Brendan." She breathed against the boy's ear. "Come now, stand." Show me how strong you are, my boy.


"." 

Her undoing was the way the child looked at her when he finally was strong enough to lift his head without it flopping. The look in those eyes made her gut churn uncomfortably and it further lessened her resolve to drop the foal off to his father and go about her business. She wanted to groan because never before had her resolve been so shaky and never before had she questioned herself on what she had to do. She always had a plan. A way to go about doing what she needed to do in the most efficient way possible and she was crumbling. She was falling apart at a look from a child that she'd thought she hadn't wanted.

Phantom remained still as a statue as the child struggled to find his legs and when he finally did the faintest of smiles curled the corner of her mouth upward. "Good." She murmured, her smile growing as he hobbled toward her. His head dipped under her flank and she stiffens, her entire body tense, as her child nurses from her for the first time. The sensation is weird but not entirely unpleasant. She takes the moment to run her muzzle along her child's back and for the first time since she discovered that she was going to be a mother she was content.

"Phantom..."

Her head lifted and her crimson eyes found the stallion that sired her child. The smile on her face faded a bit as he asked what she had named him or her. "His name," she began "Is Brendan."

"."