My life is a struggle, at first.
My mother tries so very hard to deliver me in one push, but I am large for her petite body. I take my time to emerge, unable to do anything about the situation myself. When I am born, I first glimpse my mother, a butter hued mare. Her mane falls in cascades of purples and blues down her neck, she is all things warm and inviting. She gives me a name, 'Tioga', I like it. I also like her words, the sounds thick and sweet, so different from the other voices that surround me. I also learn mother's name this day, Wichita, and a friend, Reuen. The other mare is like me smelling of life, of blood, but she is much bigger. My coat is black, dark as the starless nights when the moon is hiding. I have no marks to adorn my hide, but my eyes shine. Brown, like mother, except the hue different. Where mother's eyes are like hot chocolate, mine are like a brand new copper penny, sometimes mother avoids my gaze.
It is nice here, everything is green, and warm. The smells so strong, of grass,clover, and earth. Here all things are green, the ground I stand on upon wiry black legs. The trees that shade my heated backside, I am happy here.
I am curious though, of the others, horses that we share these lands with. Hides covered in splashes, some infused with colors from the sky. There are babes here as well, little ones like myself. My mother tells me this is our herd, our family. I am at first unable to quench my thirst for interactions, my legs too wobbly, I depend on my mother a great deal. Now though, I find my legs stronger, I tire less, and require milk less often. Today I venture out, though not truly far from mother. Still, it is progress, my leaving, relying on myself to trudge through the grasses to find company. I nicker to the others, to the children. Hello , I call, a bit half heartedly. I am still shy, and the world is so new, I wonder if the others will like me.
