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lift me up on broken wings; akita and rafe
Topic Started: Jul 25 2011, 10:58 PM (96 Views)
kimmys
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The tovero mare had come to the conclusion that she rather liked having an older daughter. It had been hard to leave Paisley alone in Bitter Lullen, surrounded as she was by extended family and her protective father, and almost as hard to leave Skye. But she knew that her painted daughters would stay together as instructed until their mother was able to return to them with their next sibling.

Akita felt thankful that they were in the Lullen and not with her for another reason as well. Despite how long she delayed the birth, and disregarding the contractions that were routinely gripping her midsection now, the child had not turned correctly for birth. It made her frightened for the foal, and to a lesser extent for herself. All she wanted was a healthy baby - gender and color and personality mattered little to the benevolent matriarch - as long as her child was healthy. However, no matter what tricks Akita tried, the baby wasn't going to turn correctly, and after a final last ditch effort of rolling, she rose to her hooves and began picking a patch toward the safe place she'd scouted earlier in the day.

The dust from her coat rose in whimsical clouds with every plodding step the heavily pregnant and much overdue mare took. Twigs littered her mane and tail and make it hang heavily against her sweat covered body, but she did not pause. It was an uncommonly warm spring day, rife with uncomfortable humidity and she felt as though she were no more dry than when she had climbed out of the ocean this morning. The oppressive feeling of the air, which seemed to mask the sounds of other creatures, put her more on edge and not for the first time, the harried mare mouthed another prayer for the well being of the foal and for a quick delivery. The sooner they could start the slow journey home, the better.

With the delivery coming soon, she was almost out of time to worry. A part of her understood that whatever was going to happen, would happen regardless of how she tried to change the outcome. Despite the pain, it was nice to feel the child's kicks as it protested against the contractions, and with an apprehensive mind, she lowered her bulky body to the ground to continue with the process. As was typical for most mares, Akita lost track of the time as she pushed, trying to find a rhythm with her contractions. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn't any bit closer than she had been when she started, and a panicky feeling was welling in her chest. If she didn't get this foal out soon he could very well suffocate inside of her and she would lose her baby.

Anxiously the mare rose and paced in a small circle before laying down in a new spot with her rump on a small downward slope with the hopes that gravity would assist her body in expelling this child. That didn't prove any more fruitful and after only a minute or two she paced again to a new spot and was finally reward with the subtle shift of the foal as it lost the battle of willpower against her body's instincts. Within moments she could feel the head slip free, but the child's shoulders caught and she craned her neck up from the ground and called plaintively to the foal as though to encourage it to stop protesting. When it didn't respond in any manner, she became more anxious and pushed harder to get the helpless baby free.

A crack, more felt than heard, rendered her still for the briefest second although her body completed it's task and deposited the wet bundle at her hind hooves. Belatedly it began to move, whimpering as it fought free of the encasement. Tears that were both worry and relief dribbled over her cheeks as she heaved her tired body back onto her chest and craned her head around to inspect what her union with Rowan had produced.

Akita was accustomed to strange children. Paisley had been a shock with her white stripes and brilliant blue eyes. Skye had been more typical, more normal, but no less adored. But this child seemed to top both of them. Her own blue eyes gazed back at her with surprise and while a slow, happy smile spread across her lips, she looked over his striped and painted coat with a bit of awe. He was as recognizable as his sire, if not more so, and adorably handsome. And it was a he. She could finally give him his colt that she instinctively knew Rowan wanted; as to why, she could guess, but she thought he was wrong. Gethin was just fine as an heir, there was no need to punish him for the mistakes that were wrongfully attributed to his dam. Still, her unease with Rowan's behavior had no place in the tender mother-son moment and fondly she stretched forward to touch her muzzle against her own.

She would let Rowan name his son, but he would always be her baby.
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