Sobriety dragged her body to a place beyond the rocks, near a steam outlet that provided hot water, but not near enough to endanger the child. Shielded from the wind, she started the instinctual rounds of pacing, sweating, standing and lying down again - until finally her contractions brought forth a child.
A small colt lay on the Isle, the color of the night sky above; of blue and greens mixed - like his father. Her own silvery mane were long and wet, stuck to her sweaty neck - but the child’s moist mane were upright and just as silvery, like the stars and the night sky. He looked like a dream, a creation of the north night sky, but she knew he was not. ”Sachin” she named him - a reminder that he was pure, true, and real.
She cleaned him, he nursed, and she marvelled upon his downy wings, the frosty appendages clinging to him, and his overall beauty. When he opened his eyes, they were silver, but changed color to a kind of orange when he focused on his mother, and she smiled. ”Something of the dragon in you too, then.” she murmured as she let him nurse.
Hours later, when he slept, she stood; watching the Isle that had been her home.
This could not stay her home with the young one at her side, she recognised, but for now, she just enjoyed the coolness of the night, and the sight of the aurora dancing above her son’s place of birth. Soon dawn would rise in the east and chase the teal color from the canopy, but right now, the world was calm and peaceful.
Bruja if you want and, @any who live on the Isle