Regardless, her soft pink muzzle nudged the egg once; impatient eyes focusing roughly on it in her infancy. And, when more than a few moments had passed without any interest to the young filly, she bowed her head and harshly struck it with the razor nub of her tiny horn buds.
A flow of bright yellow amnion greeting her eyes, followed by a muted yellow-brown worm. The filly snorted, uncertain at what was happening but assuredly certain she was not impressed. Though the small worm wiggled in its jelly-like sac once, twice. Then, on the third time, it’s pale gaze opened and met her own. Hisses filled her ears—from her mane and from the creature before her.
And she bonded—though, still, she wasn’t impressed with this dismal little snake. That was, until it’s sharp, small fangs sank into her right pastern.
Then Vulia grinned wide.