Dew drops rest on pink petals as a soft breeze swayed through the meadow. Not a creature in sight. As her nostrils widened and quivered, fresh oxygen filled her lungs. A rather large stomach had strengthened her muscles and worked her patience. She had fallen before, but had gotten back up, stronger. Something lurched in her stomach. The mare entered the forest and was immediately bombarded by problems. She squeezed through a forest of trees. She found what she was looking for. A cave. No, not any cave, but the cave she marked for her birthing spot. It was made into the side of a 15 feet tall cliff. On top of the cliff, trees grow tall and stop growing a foot from the edge. The cave is hidden. Vines drape from the edge of the cliff and obscure the vision to the inside of the cave. At the entrance of the cave, one bush stands, on each side. The bushes are two feet tall and two feet wide. The roof of the cave is ten feet high, which is enough room for the fae to lay and birthe. The rounded entrance suited her fine. Not only was there a forest on the top of the cliff, but around the entrance lay a thick forest with one narrow path. Only would she be seen if a horse flew over the area, or came down the three feet wide bath with roots popping out of the ground. This had been where the lady had gotten pregnant. The stud was the charming and ebony, Loki.

The calm before a storm.

It was quiet save a few birds that chirped songs and tweeted. Reaching her muzzle forward, she walked into the cave. The vines running down her flank until she was totally in the cave. A sharp pain stabbing her side as she was forcefully pulled to the ground. Sweat beading down her pelt and her inky lips let a groan escape her jugular. Why had she let things get so far? Again? Contractions happened and her stomach squeezed and squeezed. Pain thriving everywhere. After a moment the pain left.

An animal had come out of her body…. Awkward.. She looked at what had come out. A foal. It was almost like a little, tiny, version of Loki. Two small wings reached out from it's back. It was a little boy. She looked at the foal. Angora, the mother didn't know what to do, but give the dog an appropriate name. "You are now dubbed Fenrir." She reached towards the colt, but couldn't touch him. She was ripped away from him as pain laced over her stomach.

Pain surged. Sweat started again. Then came another. No wonder she had been so fucking fat. This one was slightly different. Two small bumps where horns would grow in were on her forehead. It was an ebony filly with white eyes. She came with a roman nose and a frizzy mane and tail. "Loki shall choose your name, darling."

Sweet mercy, she has twins.