My Little Rose (Birthing, any)

[Becca]

The Golden Princess

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale, I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet, Lead her up the stairwell This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town, I was a dreamer before you went and let me down, Now it's too late for you and your white horse to come around

At this point in her pregnancy she was never too far from her birthing site. She neared towards the soft pillow of grass surrounded by a coverage of trees, where you could hear the sweet vocals of every songbird that lived within the bounds of Beqanna. This was the place. It was here when she felt the first contractions of her new child, it struck her like a wind storm. Pain surging through her body pulsing through every vein as her heart thundered faster as the contractions grew.

By instinct, she gently lowered herself onto the soft pillow of grass. Now on her side it wasn't the most comfortable position yet it allowed her to calm down taking deep inhales and exhales with shaky breathes she began to push. It seemed she weakened after every push yet it made her urge to do so get stronger until she found a large lump at her hind. The pain was gone but, was this really her new child? In excitement she gently shifted over. A bit exhausted from the birthing, she bit open the sack revealing her child's silver black coat.

With the little strength she had Becca rose up onto all fours, nostrils flaring as she took in the scents of blood and her child. Soon motherly instincts kicked in grooming the small child clean, only to discover it was a girl, a petite filly. Brushing periwinkle eyes down her child, as she seemed to be adjusting to her new world, shaking almost in a fierce manner. Was that supposed to happen?

The petite child lay upon the ground dormant, as the dark chocolate women allowed herself to look around. She was sure there would be wandering eyes peeking through every corner ready to welcome the new child of the gates. Surely Magnus's daughter would perhaps have a new little friend along with Johnathen of course. She enjoyed the soft moments, as she gently urged her child up onto her feet. She did so willingly shakily rising and collapsing a silver charcoal heap. Only to try once more till her long appendages could with stand her weight for longer.

" There." She cooed the words gently nuzzling her new filly. All she needed was a name, something that matched her black coloring and that was unique. Of all names she chose the first one upon her lips, " Midnite." The word seemed to be soaked in honey and rose petals as it flowed out of her muzzle.

becca

image © nathan walker