nothing's only words; birthing, any

[Newton]

It had been the perfect, coziest place ever (well it was all he had every known). It was warm, comforting, and at times he could hear his mother whisper sweetly to him. He could feel the beat of her heart, and when he wasn’t fumbling around in the fluid kicking her belly he would rest his head on the wall nearest to it. The developing colt would have gladly remained in the depths of his mother forever, but nature had a different destiny for him. Out of nowhere the home that had enveloped him for months was now evicting him. In the flourish of pressure and groans he soon slipped from his mother and landed heavily on the ground. His eyes slowly broke open, and he peered through a gooey mess of tissue and sac. Soft lips soon pressed against his head, and a tongue wiped away his birth shield. He looked upward with wondering eyes and instantly fell in love with the mare before him. With unsteady legs he attempted to unfurl his body. Instinct pushed him to stand. He fell after a moment, gathered himself and tried again. After the third attempt he managed the feat. A small smile formed, and he stepped carefully toward his mother. He rested his head against her chest. He could identify the heartbeat almost instantaneously. The colt paused beside her, finding strength in her support before he swung his head beneath her belly and began to drink. newton ice shifting son of weir and eira