My breaths came in short, guttural gasps. As if I'd just ran for my life from a pack of wolves in a dead gallop for miles - or tried to outrun a avalanche. My bloated sides heaved with my gasps for air, though my flea bitten sides had a faint sheen from the thin coat of sweat that had now settled on my frame. Coal colored pools were wide as I broke through the foliage. It was just instinct to find a safe place to give birth.

A sharp pain jabbed my stomach; providing enough pain to make me dizzy and see stars. Shouldering the dizziness and pain, I kept walking forward on wobbly, unstable legs. Atleast, until I felt safe enough in the field to just crumble down to the grass.

-UNFIN - unless you can make something of it, Mystery. xD -

I had enough time to catch my breath, or atleast to try to make it so I wasn't gulping in air like a race horse would gulp water. Coal colored pools raked the Field's landscape quickly, feeling the tension returning. Flea bitten audials buried themselves as I clenched my teeth against the pain and coal colored pools shut against the burning tears that threatened to spill. I could hear my mother's teachings, despite the fact I ran away. Only one saying had the nerve to repeat its self, a phrase that ought never exist - even for a "Lady".
"A Lady never cries from pain, especially in childbirth."
What a damn lie that was. Even thinking that, however, couldn't soothe me in the slightest. I wanted to scream, because it felt like I was being torn into two; yet that annoying phrase kept my ashened lips tightly shut, coal pools closed, and audials buried into my snow white mane.

Atleast, for a while. Flared nares caught Justin's scent, well before he spoke, and acted as a silent soother after a lapse of pain ebbed away. Blearily coal pools opened to look at eye level with him, as he spoke softly and touched my guaranteed-to-be sweaty neck. Coal pools closed once more, as I rested for the brief moment I had.
"S'il vous plaît , pardonner mon départ abrupt."
The words were barely loud enough to be a whisper, my French mangled from my constricted throat as pain washed over again. My bloated sides heaved, putting the little strength I had to pushing away the pain - our foal with it. It took a few minutes to achieve the numbing bliss, before I realized that was it, the pain was over, was I stared at the pale golden form behind me before taking to my duty to clean it.

However, as I applied my ministrations, a sinking feeling pitted itself within my stomach. A filly who was thin, even for a foal her size. What if Justin wanted a colt? At that thought, the pit grew into a bottomless hole that leeched away all the happiness from me as the pale golden filly stirred and sat upright, grey-blue hues watching my expressions change every few seconds, before turning to look up at her father.
"C'est une pouliche, mon amour. Que lui appellerons-nous?" I commented, keeping my voice quiet in case it would betray my feelings - if my facade hadn't.

My coal pools watch the pale golden filly, as she downcasts her gaze, as if to doze. Her lashes, a striking black against her pale coat, are thick and feather her pale cheeks before she reopens her eyes; of which, her thick black lashes frame her alert grey-blue pools in black, making them sharper. I chew on a lip as I think over what Justin as asked, flea bitten audials pivot backwards as I pondered on it, and as coal pools watched our daughter try to stand.

"Que diriez-vous d'Esme? Ou Vivienne?"
My inquiry is spoken in a louder, serene tone as I watched our filly with patience as she fails a few times at standing. Only when she succeeds, do I lurch to my own feet - only to brace myself by locking my knees so that my wobbly legs don't give way.