02-26-2026, 04:44 PM
A faint awareness stirred in him, not quite thought, not quite memory, only sensation. Cold air touched his damp skin. Grass pressed soft and uneven beneath him. The world was too bright, too loud, too new, and he lay very still because stillness felt safest. His breath came in tiny, uncertain pulls, each one a discovery.
Something warm and mildly wet brushed his flank. He flinched, a small shiver running through his fragile body, but the touch returned slow, trembling, careful. Not a threat. Not the cold. Something living. Something that smelled like safety before he even knew what safety meant.
He turned his head with effort, neck wobbling under its own weight. The shape beside him was large, soft-edged, and trembling. Her breath washed over him in warm puffs. He didn’t know her name, but he knew her. Knew her the way a heartbeat knows rhythm. The way a seed knows the pull of light.
He pressed his muzzle toward her, clumsy and weak. Her nose met his halfway, a gentle touch that steadied the spinning world. Her fear trembled through her skin, but beneath it he felt something else—something that wrapped around him like a blanket he couldn’t see. Another breath. Another tiny sound from his throat. He didn’t know what he was trying to say, only that he needed her to hear it. Needed her to stay close. The night was too big without her.
He tried to move his legs, but they folded under him, uncooperative and new. The effort exhausted him, and he sagged back into the grass. Her head followed, nuzzling him again, as if to say he didn’t have to stand yet. As if to say she would wait. He blinked slowly, the world blurring and sharpening in uneven waves. Her scent filled his lungs. Her warmth pressed against his side. He didn’t understand anything beyond that, but it was enough.
When she spoke his name he began to slowly find his hooves and he stood slowly to look at his mother and blinked at her. He didn't know what she was only that she felt warm and safe, he stumbled a bit as he figured it out but instantly went to get his first meal.
Word Count for 2026: 373
Total: 1,414
Something warm and mildly wet brushed his flank. He flinched, a small shiver running through his fragile body, but the touch returned slow, trembling, careful. Not a threat. Not the cold. Something living. Something that smelled like safety before he even knew what safety meant.
He turned his head with effort, neck wobbling under its own weight. The shape beside him was large, soft-edged, and trembling. Her breath washed over him in warm puffs. He didn’t know her name, but he knew her. Knew her the way a heartbeat knows rhythm. The way a seed knows the pull of light.
He pressed his muzzle toward her, clumsy and weak. Her nose met his halfway, a gentle touch that steadied the spinning world. Her fear trembled through her skin, but beneath it he felt something else—something that wrapped around him like a blanket he couldn’t see. Another breath. Another tiny sound from his throat. He didn’t know what he was trying to say, only that he needed her to hear it. Needed her to stay close. The night was too big without her.
He tried to move his legs, but they folded under him, uncooperative and new. The effort exhausted him, and he sagged back into the grass. Her head followed, nuzzling him again, as if to say he didn’t have to stand yet. As if to say she would wait. He blinked slowly, the world blurring and sharpening in uneven waves. Her scent filled his lungs. Her warmth pressed against his side. He didn’t understand anything beyond that, but it was enough.
When she spoke his name he began to slowly find his hooves and he stood slowly to look at his mother and blinked at her. He didn't know what she was only that she felt warm and safe, he stumbled a bit as he figured it out but instantly went to get his first meal.
Word Count for 2026: 373
Total: 1,414