now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?

She had been through this before, but never without the aid of magic. The grey Connemara woman had been aware that she was carrying the Carnage sperm within her, and in her magic state, she had been able to deduce that the foal was a girl… a special one, at that.
 
So she lay down next to a large cool rock, leaned against it, and pushed, the heat and sweat pouring off her. This child was to be a special one, and she would remember it, but in a land now without magic, she hesitated to tell this child that she was no longer special among them. That this world had no love for those born special, and that without the will to work for what one is supposed to naturally have in life… there would be nothing more to her.
 
With little to recommend her in this world but her blood—which was rich, beyond measure—little Caelestra was born into a pool of her own bodily fluids, and she rushed to stand quickly, almost as if she had a mind of her own, a purpose and a place to be. Black, the little filly had the image of the stars upon her rump, and Reagan was unsure of how to address her young child. Would she stay, or would she go?
 
It was entirely up to her.