The child stirs, its voice low and meek. It's tiny purple body still covered in dried afterbirth, he speaks of his father. That his mother had left him here, told him to wait for his father. Father. Khaos. She decided that if any mare was stupid enough to leave a newborn babe here, then this little boy was the product of her lovers. A boy. The thought suddenly set in, driving home the twisted knife she felt in her breast, a feeling so strange and absurd she felt that she may break into a million pieces. She hurriedly swallowed the lump in her throat, the cogs in her mind, turning, cooking up a plan of action.
There were few witnesses to her own still born babe. Witnesses that words meant very little to herself, and even less to her mates. No one would believe them, she thought, her heart beating rapidly. She speaks ever so softly to the babe, her voice a sultry lullaby, one you would have to hear to believe. So gentle, as she peeled away the placenta still encasing the boys back legs, his head poking out, eyes a crusted mess. She answered his questions her own teats burning, filled so painfully with milk. "Mother is sorry love, shh shh. I had to be away but only for a moment, I will take you to father soon my sweet. He will love you so very much, like I do."She cleans his face next, removing the gunk from her boys hazle eyes, drinking him in. She was so very pleased with herself for this discovery, for this solution to her failure. She need not fail at all now.
After some time he manages to stand, his legs spindles of plum, just like that of his body and wings. Wings. They were gorgeous appendages, their feathers tickled her under carriage as the boy found her teats. The relief was rather immediate, as he drained the excess, her belly throbbed less and she felt a closeness with the little bird. Affectionate nibbles and kisses rained from her maw, touching him ever so lightly. The burning inside her chest long gone and forgotten.
"My darling boy. My Kirin." Her voice greeted by an excited tail, flickering ever so happily beneath her mass. Much too intent on filling its aching belly to talk.
