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| The Calling; Perception [finally] foals Zant | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 28 2013, 06:53 PM (465 Views) | |
| mysterious_blue | May 28 2013, 06:53 PM Post #1 |
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Prime was still a good couple of hours away from setting when the unlikely pair finally drew themselves away from the sea and strode across the soft sand which lined the outer edges of the Quarry. The towering Rouge was still being shadowed by the foolish filly that she had discovered in the Dreamscape. Cheska had all but thrown herself into the claws of one of the many creatures which lurked in the caves of the Dreamscape, and would now have to live with the scars. To be fair, she was lucky to have gotten away with just injuries. Untreated, the wounds would have become severely infected, had the blood loss not taken its toll first. Perception still questioned why she had decided to help the reckless youngster, especially now she appeared to be all but attached to the Rogue’s hip. The towering mare hadn’t travelled with another equine for a good few years and hadn’t exactly been enthused when Cheska wanted to remain by her side … but it was easier just to let the yearling trail along than it was to argue. Now, however, the mare’s tolerance was wearing exceptionally thin. The pains of labour had been making themselves known for the last couple of hours, though they were now migrating from the colicky ache to structured contractions; not yet close enough to cause the experience mare any alarm, but certainly not comfortable either. The foal was long overdue and she would be glad to finally be rid of the additional weight. Despite her reams of experience as a dam, Perception wasn’t expecting this to be an easy birth – the sire had been exceptionally tall and heavily built, which was highly likely to influence the foal, plus the Rogue was somewhat older now and less likely to recover as quickly as she had with previous offspring. Nevertheless, she steps forward confidently, though her stride is a little shorter than what it usually would have been in order to compensate for her heavily distended barrel. Despite their close proximity to the wooded area of the Quarry, Cheska still seemed determined to remain with the Rouge. It was impossible to tell if the spotted yearling was just being clingy or if she had completely overlooked the fact that mares almost always foaled alone. Instinct had them draw themselves away from herds and family members and led them to the secluded island… but apparently Cheska knew nothing of this. A sharp contraction finally breaks the roan’s resolve; lobes flatten against her poll, nasals flared and teeth bared at the filly. It was a threat that not even Cheska could overlook - the towering mare had tolerated her presence thus far, but Perception would not allow the appaloosa to intrude any further. A harsh snort leaves her nostrils as she turned away and strides forward into one of the many clearings which litter this land. Dark strands swatting against her haunches as the Rogue endures the remainder of the contraction. She refuses to look back at the spotted yearling or offer any form of explanation - right now, Perception cared very little as to what happened to the youngster, not when the birth of her own child was so imminent. |
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| Chips909 | May 30 2013, 11:19 PM Post #2 |
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The young filly followed the big mare onto the shore of the quarry, her wounds stinging at the salt water. They had stopped bleeding, and were just starting to show early signs on healing. She prayed that most would heal over, and not leave any scars, though that seemed unlikely, even for her youth. She had bruises, which made moving a bit painful, though she kept quiet. She learned early on that the mare didn't exactly want to make conversation. She got a strong feeling from the mare that she wasn't particularly liked, though she was too scared to leave her just yet. She was so big and strong Cheska felt safe with her, though was sure the mare wouldn't put her life on the line for the filly. Perception didn't even look back at the Saddlebred mix until they were close to the woods. She stopped suddenly at the mares warning look, and averted her eyes to the ground and back up a few steps, hoping the mare would take the apology of sorts. She loathed making others mad, and tried to avoid as best as possible, plus she didn't want to get on this mares bad side more than she already was. "I'll wait here." She murmured quietly, not even if the mare heard as she walked away. Cheska watched her disappear into the woods, and then looked around. She was naive, though knew that this would take time. She rested a hind foot, ready to stand there all night and even doze a bit. |
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| mysterious_blue | Jun 8 2013, 03:43 PM Post #3 |
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A lobes flick back briefly as she made her way through the foliage, the filly’s murmured words were just about caught, though Perception barely acknowledged it. The Rogue’s opinion of Cheska was of little consequence since she wouldn’t have allowed any equine to linger close-by once she was in the throes of labour. Some herd mares had gotten into the habit of bringing their stallions along to the Quarry – a practice which the roan disagreed with whole-heartedly. Even nature had a mare instinctively draw herself away from other equines when her time came. Why then, would anyone then choose to bring a stallion along to watch while they endured the pain of bringing a foal into the world? Snow crunched under the mare’s vast hooves as she moved into a large clearing, the space between the timbers too great for their boughs to touch and protect the ground below from the fresh flakes which had started to fall. Foaling in winter wasn’t particularly comfortable for a mare and also presented potential complications for a newborn, but Perception didn’t have much control over exactly when she gave birth and being prone to carry her foals past their due-by dates made foaling even more difficult to predict. Still, the season was still relatively new and there was barely a dusting of the cold powder on the ground. There were plenty of overhanging branches providing shelter from the icy flakes, but for now the Rouge took to pacing in the open. The continuous movement helped to sooth the discomfort of labour, though she was too far along for the action to distract her completely. Eventually the contractions grew close enough together and signalled the imminent arrival of the child. It was only now that Perception moves to the edge of the clearing, seeking some vague shelter from the overhanging boughs without confining herself in the midst of the forest. A groan rumbles the mare’s chords as her hefty form is lowered to the ground, the distension of her barrel becoming all the more obvious now that she was lying down. A layer of perspiration covered her roan pelt, nasals flared and each laboured breath condensed in the chilly air. Lobes pinned against her poll as a strong contraction drove her to roll back, now lying flat on her side, and start adding her own efforts to deliver the foal. Several minutes later and the mare had made very little progress. Numerous times she had risen to her hooves and paced the clearing in an attempt to reposition the foal and make the process a little easier, though it made next to no difference. Eventually, the Rogue ventures a short way into the forest, her stride and breaths laboured as she walked in search of a particular plant. Finally spotting the tiny yellow flowers which identified her quarry, Perception leans down and promptly consumes three of the leaves. The plant itself was relatively common across the unclaimed lands though most equines steered clear of it. Common sense generally dictated that a horse shouldn’t eat what they don’t know to be safe. But Perception knew better; despite the cringingly bitter taste, the leaves would help to ease the agonising discomfort somewhat and ought to allow her to deliver the foal a little easier … she would just have to fight the grogginess that would follow. Perception turns away, returning to the clearing and pacing its boarders until the herb finally starts to take effect. A large hoof paws away the snow that had gathered on the ground before her form is lowered to the frozen earth and she resumes her effort to deliver the overdue child. The next few minutes pass in a painful blur for the Rogue, but eventually the foal slips free of it’s mother’s form. Perception stays as she is – laid out flat on her side, nasals flared and her pelt saturated with perspiration as she tried to recover. Her thoughts are slow, made groggy but the leaves she had consumed, but the effect would fade eventually. Movement against her hind limbs stirred the Rogue, coaxing her to roll onto her tender barrel and look round at the foal that she had been carrying for so long. Lobes folded back again at the pain that the movement caused, but instinct wouldn’t allow her to neglect the child. Another couple of minutes pass before the towering roan pulls herself back onto her hooves, limbs trembling slightly, as she moves round to start tending to the newborn. |
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| Chips909 | Jun 15 2013, 01:15 PM Post #4 |
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Where the points don't matter!
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The sun had set and the moon was out in full. Cheska's chestnut contrasted starkly with the pristine white on her snowflake patterned pelt. The fine white sand where she stood was almost the same white as her coat in the moonlight. A sigh escaped her as she restlessly looked around her. She knew it would be a long process, but it had seemed like hours the young mare had stood there. She had dozed a bit earlier, though occasional sounds from Perception had roused her. She kept and ear out for her friend, though didn't want to stand in one place. Deciding it wouldn't hurt to stretch her legs she walked along the beach, though kept within site of Perceptions spot. The air was chilly, and Cheska's winter had just started to grow in. She shivered a bit, and worked up into a trot, going along the beach as quietly as she could. At one point she turned back and trotted the other way, not wanting to get lost. She slowed back down to a walk when she felt warm. She tool a deep breath, scents coming to her all jumbled up. Most were stale, some a few hours old. When she scented the air again she smelled herself and Perception, along with the smell of many mares. These were coming at her in a way. She stopped and stood ears perked, curious to see who this group of mares was. |
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| mysterious_blue | Jul 1 2013, 05:49 PM Post #5 |
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The mare was acting more on instinct and habit than conscious thought, even to the point of neglecting to immediately check the child’s gender before deciding whether or not to tend to it. Perception had disposed of her last offspring, not only because it was a colt, but it was born weak and would never have been able to keep pace with its Rogue mother. At least this foal was strong, struggling to get to its hooves mere minutes after birth. The roan mare could feel her own limbs trembling; her head was held low to aid her balance, eyes closed tight to try and blot out the sensation of the world spinning around her. The mare’s breaths were still laboured, though the pain was dulled. Roan fur was saturated with sweat, though the winter’s chill penetrated her pelt only making the towering equine all the more uncomfortable. But the colt was oblivious to his dam’s suffering. A few more struggles and failed attempts ensued, but eventually the colt managed to balance his weight across all four hooves. He was large, even as a newborn, and had obviously taken on much of his sire’s Shire blood. Pale moonlight highlighted the blaze which ran down the centre of his face and the two tall stockings which adorned his hind legs. His dark-grey pelt was still damp and the world was cold, making the youngster shiver even as he wobbled on his gangly limbs. Instict forced him to try and move forward, to be at his mother’s side, to feed for the first time and to share the mare’s body heat. He was, if anything, lucky that his birth had weakened Perception to such an extent that she couldn’t bring herself to care whether or not he was male. Tentative movements slowly become more confident as the colt moves forward, before long he finds himself within reach of his dam and is soon running his muzzle against her roan pelt, reaching under her barrel to nurse. Perception grunted, lobes folding back briefly but she offered no further protest…. for a minute at least. What was left of her strength ebbed away suddenly, leaving her lightheaded and unable to focus on anything but getting herself safely to the ground before she fell. Perception managed to take a step forward before her knees give way and she is forced to lower her form to the ground. The colt managed to scuttle out of the way, falling in the process but is ultimately unharmed. His dam struggles to remain conscious; what with the effects of the herb, her exhaustion and the freezing temperatures, it wasn’t any surprise to the mare … or wouldn’t have been if she had been lucid enough at the time to think straight. |
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| kimmys | Jul 6 2013, 10:33 AM Post #6 |
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Sadness still hung heavily over their group of seven, though it clung to the little bay roan the most. She of all of them had lost more than she should have, and been handed more to deal with than any of them. Even Sendiri's normally upbeat personality had been struggling under the weight of her depression and she followed along glumly beside Shalaya and Paisley. The foals were affected to a lesser degree, or rather, their minds were quick to latch onto other distractions that helped to lessen the burden. Silas, Gwendolyn and Heidi, all within nine months of each other, gamboled about ahead in a game of chase. The twins were nearing yearling age and Gwen was finally outgrowing her weakness. Perhaps come spring the group would be able to leave. One disaster after another had kept them safely here in the Quarry where there were no predators. Gethin had abandoned them, and he had been the only defense the group of mare's and foals had. Sendiri's dam, Sialan, had been killed by wolves when the group attempted to return to the Gathering to continue their journey to Elk's Stream. The return trip to the Quarry, at Sendiri's insisitence, had nearly killed poor Gwen who was sickly and struggling at times. Thankfully, Shalaya had been able to help feed her and all adults kept a watchful eye on the tiny darling and things worked out in the end. Ismay, however, was neither a foal nor an adult and she struggled with her identity at times. At a few days short of three she felt ostracized by both groups and wished at times that it was just her and her mom again. They had made it to Elk's Stream before all these other babies came. Ismay knew that was uncharitable and that really, she did like the company of Silas and Gwendolyn and Heidi, who was closer to her age, but she wished with all her heart that she could meet her sire. Momma didn't like talking about him, always said that she didn't know much about him other than that he was handsome and tall and black. And mostly kind. Ismay had never been able to figure out what she meant by mostly kind, and all of the other adults seemed to know so they never talked about it near the young mare. Someday, she'd decided, someday she would meet Vitez and tell him how much she missed having a daddy while she was little. Even if she was three years old, she thought, she would spend some time getting to know him before going off to see the world. For her part, Paisley knew how much her daughter longed to meet Vitez. At the same time, however, she did not feel safe travelling alone. This group was her family, sometimes a little broken, but still family and they watched out for one another even when things got rough. And quite frankly, if Paisley wanted to be honest, she was still a little bitter about the whole Vitez ordeal. She knows that the reason he had foals on the ground when she visited was because her pregnancy was extremely long, but her heart still accused him of knowing what would happen when they meet in the Gathering and leaving her alone to face it anyway. Not to mention, while she had been pregnant to begin with, Pai had assumed she was the only mare. That when she met him it would be a fairytale of sorts and reality had rushed up to meet her. Her heart still hurt thinking about it and in a way, she knows that hesitating to return was hurting Ismay, but she fears that her daughter will feel the same sort of rejection. Ahead the three youths shudder to a stop in tandem, their ears pricked forward at something that the adults could not yet see. Gwen was the shortest, followed by Silas, and then Heidi was was tallest by virtue of being the oldest of them. In the Quarry, it was odd to see another equine during Winter, which was part of the reason that the group had chosen to stay here. The grazing wasn't the best, but it was a safe, predator free haven in which to last out the winter before continuing their journey. "Momma!" Heidi called out, "there's someone else here!" Gwendolyn, however, has inherited her mother's personailty and the gangly, still slightly too thin weanling trots forward excitedly, tail outstretched. She rushes over to the chestnut youngster and immediately sticks out her muzzle for the exchanging of snuffles. "Hai! My names Gwen, or Gwendolyn. Or Gwennie." She bounces good naturedly as if to suggest a shrug. "What are you doing in the Quarry?" Silas, more like his sire than his dam, creeps up to Gwen's side and offers a terse grin to the young chestnut before sharply nudging Gwen's hipbone and growling under his breath. "You can't just ask people why they're in the Quarry Gwen." The group of adults had picked up their pace upon seeing the twins bound out of sight, and quickly joined Heidi who was waiting patiently for them before approaching herself. ooc: the adults are just beyond a sand dune. I figured it'd be easier for Cheska to deal with two foals rather than the whole contingent at once. |
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| Chips909 | Jul 12 2013, 08:40 AM Post #7 |
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The spotted mare was en;lightened to see two younger horses run up to her. She was even more delighted to see that one had spots, like hers. Cheska giggles a bit when the first introduces herself, and the second scolds her. "It quite alright, Gwen." She said, and huge grin splitting her young face as she extends her own muzzle to the yearling. "My name is Cheska, I don't have any nicknames though." She giggled again. You couldn't get much of a nickname from her name. "I'm here with a friend! Her name's Perception." She said, and suddenly hoped Perception wouldn't mind her talking to strangers, and mentioning her name. It was so boring here! She was glad it was dark so they wouldn't see her wounds. (Sorry its short but i had a little burst of muse and thought I'd get this done before I leave.) |
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| mysterious_blue | Jul 14 2013, 12:06 PM Post #8 |
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The colt struggled to rise to his hooves once more, though he lost his footing several times on the patches of ice which littered the ground. Instinct would have lead him to his dam’s side, to share her warmth and to shelter in her protection but her earlier pacing had compacted much of the snow, making it slippery and nigh on impossible for the newborn to cross. Jaws parted as the colt tested his vocals for the first time, trying to get his mother’s attention so that she would come to his aid, but the noise barely registered with Perception. The Rogue was exhausted and suffering from loss of blood after giving birth to such a large foal. Her maternal instinct had been strong enough to get the child to its hooves, but not enough to rouse her now. Brush-like tail swished across the newborn’s haunches as he heard something beyond the clearing. He knew nothing outside of this gap between trees where he had been born and knew of no greater desire than to be with his mother. The child didn’t know fear or what dangers could befall a newborn, hence his continued calls. Had he known better, the colt would have remained silent and waited for the strangers to pass. Instead he whinnied again, trying to edge his way forward, only to have one of his hooves slip and for his form to fall to the ground once more. |
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