SHADES OF GRAY
Chapter One - Birth
When Kibeth was born, the stars did not align. The sky was a dingy gray with darker thunderclouds on the horizon, ready to provide the desert land she was born in with a small amount of rain before moving on. No light shone down from the heavens to signify her birth and no angels' sweet songs resonated from the hilltops. There was nothing to show she had come into the world, just as with every other pony born to the lands of Azuyan. She was no more special to the world than any of those before her... and yet, she was a curiosity.
When her mother first set eyes on her - several hours after the birth, for she had been too pained toward the end to be in her right mind, and had fallen unconscious when the deed was done - she didn't notice it. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe just a result of the usual feelings that overtook a mother; any baby born to her would be perfect, no matter what it turned out to look like. Her father, however, noticed it almost immediately. He didn't say anything... he didn't want to upset his wife, who still seemed so fragile, and who had fought to deliver the child for almost two days. It was her first birth, and she seemed to be glowing with happiness as her tear-filled eyes took in the mewling baby by her knees, swaddled in thick, cotton-like towels after having been cleaned by the midwives, who were now in the small house's kitchen, preparing a meal and some tea.
But eventually both her parents, and the midwives, would notice the small nub, the tiny bump on Kibeth's forehead that looked like a rough, thick, pointed patch of skin, devoid of the normal thin fur a pony tended to have on its body. The midwives had seen it before, on the foreheads of many a unicorn they helped deliver, a scaly covering to help keep the mother from being injured during the pony's delivery. It wouldn't have been so strange on any other pony, but Kibeth was a flutterpony; like all flutterponies, she was born with a lithe, long-legged body, and a pair of thin, opalescent, translucent wings; small, compared to her body, scalloped at the edges, and made for rapid flapping to keep the pony afloat, much like the wings of a bumblebee. No flutterpony was born with a horn.
After nearly a week, when her mother was feeling well enough to leave their home, they covered the foal in more swaddling and a hood, and paid for a cart to take them down the lengthy cobblestone path into town. It was a short trip; the difficult task was finding the correct doctor. The midwives had given them an address in the marketplace, and finding anything there was difficult unless you weren't looking for it. They stumbled into many a fishmonger's and tinkerer's tent before finding the doctor they sought.
The doctor's tent was filled with a number of expensive things. Painstakingly-woven rugs adorned the floor in all places, their colors and patterns - greens, purples, yellows, oranges, reds, pinks and blues, paisley, polka dots, leopard spots, zebra stripes, and plaid - fighting each other for attention. The tent was actually two tents; one larger, like a receiving hall or atrium, and a smaller, back-tent that was hidden behind a lush crimson curtain, fringed in dangling leather strips dotted with turquoise beads. From the center of the ceiling of the entrance tent hung a curious light, a giant globe nearly round in its many facets, which were each a piece of lightly-colored glass so the slow-burning candle in the middle, hanging apparently through no power of its own (probably put there by a magician), cast a soft, rainbow glow all around the room.
It was this globe her parents were admiring when the doctor materialized. Surely he came from behind the curtain, but he was there in an instant, already speculating about their business, the gold-framed glasses with intricate lacework temple arms perched neatly on his tiny nose. He was a fairypony, smaller even than the flutterponies before him. His fur shone a dingy crimson - like a dull version of the curtains behind him - but his mane was a bright, dandelion yellow, broken only by a single stripe of sky blue around the middle of his neck. His magenta wings looked a bit out-of-place on his back, translucent and shaped like a pointed oval, just as most male fairyponies' wings. He had his hair cropped quite short, a common hairstyle for someone who lived in the desert.
"What can I do for you?," he finally asked, his voice almost hushed, and a bit difficult to hear over the din of shoppers outside his makeshift office. He stared pointedly at Kibeth's father; the flutterpony was a dull, medium gray, with a pale white mane, his face ragged with age, despite his piercing red eyes. The doctor surmised he was probably already into his fifties.
It was the mother who stepped forward, though; her pale, slightly lilac-toned hide standing out against his richly-colored decorations, and even against her deep, raven's black mane. Her eyes - also bright crimson - were framed with the wrinkles of time, though she was clearly younger than the husband, probably in her late thirties.
"This is Chaldor," she motioned to her husband, "and my name is Ichna. My daughter, Kibeth..." she whispered, fearing to speak above the doctor's original tone. She picked up the large-handled basket that had lain at her hooves this entire time, offering the swaddled filly within up for his inspection.
"My name is Tanderr. Come with me," seeming disgusted with the formalities, the doctor didn't even look under the filly's hood, instead turning on his heel and parting the curtains behind him, offering a look back over his shoulder to make sure they were following him. The couple exchanged a worried glance, one he'd seen many times before, but they followed obediently, if a bit slowly.
The back tent was almost startlingly different than the front. There was a distinct lack of color; most things were white or pale gray, from the tent's walls to the pillows and tables and even the light sources: twelve or so small sconces with tiny, magical orbs of light bobbing slowly in them like tiny will-o-the-wisps, though they were clearly not alive. A series of small white bookcases provided some of the only color in the room, filled with books in multi-hued bindings, some of them tall, some of them squat, some thin and some as thick as a stout pony's leg. It was actually quite an impressive collection considering books were a bit rare; most ponies lacked the ability to write them and had to rely on elves and humans where they could, the scant few that existed.
At the center of the tent was a low-lying but wide table, surrounded by six or so carefully-placed pillows. The doctor had already seated himself, kneeling, to the left of the table. Carefully, Ichna placed the basket, which now seemed to be wriggling as the filly within had awakened, on the tabletop. She took a kneeling seat across the table from the doctor. Chaldor seemed more reluctant, his face souring almost the instant he stepped into the tent, but the doctor raised his gaze to stare firmly at him. Something about the almost palpable silence paired with the gaze over the finely-crafted glasses carried enough authority that Chaldor heaved an exasperated sigh and knelt, as well.
"Let's see what you've got wrapped up in here, then," Tanderr finally suggested after a lengthy pause as he looked the parents up and down. Using a mix between his front hooves and teeth, he pulled the bundle out from the basket - my, was it squirming eagerly, now! - and yanked off the hood.
Chaldor and Ichna looked at each other again, and back to the doctor, waiting for his response. But the doctor didn't seem to notice anything. He took the rest of the swaddling off the younster and coaxed her to her feet.
Kibeth was unlike either of her parents, and more of a mix of the two. She was a pale but near-perfect gray, with her hair only slightly darker than her body. Her eyes were the same bright crimson of her parents, though, and stared up at the doctor curiously. She hiccuped and her chest heaved; the rocking brought her down to her rump, where her front legs slid forward and she finally landed in a lying position. She continued to look up at the doctor, who looked down at her another moment before poking and prodding around, massaging her hips, turning her head left and then right, running a hoof-tip down her spine. He flipped her over and prodded at her stomach; she hiccuped again, struggled to get away from the uncomfortable treatment.
Once Tanderr seemed done examining her, he let her struggle over to her mother, who pulled her close. He tapped his chin with one hoof, seeming not entirely displeased or perplexed, but as though he was carefully thinking of the answer to an equation.
"There is nothing wrong with her; she is a perfectly healthy filly," he finally concluded. Ichna looked surprised.
"But the bump on her forehead-..." Chaldor began.
"It's nothing. Perhaps a scab from a rough delivery. Nothing to be afraid of," he shook his head dismissively.
"The midwives said they'd never seen anything like it on a flutterpony, they said it looks like a..." Ichna started, but felt she was unable to say it.
"It's nothing," Doctor Tanderr repeated, this time with a bit more authoritative of a tone in his voice. He thrust himself to his feet and went over to a tall, white chest of drawers that was hidden in a back corner of the tent. He stared at it a moment, reading the labels on the drawers, and finally opened the second down from the top. From within he pulled a small, clear jar of some sort of green, jelly-like substance. He carried it carefully with his teeth over to the table, and set it down.
"This is a lotion from the Drecco plant. It moisturizes and helps the skin heal. Rub it on her forehead thrice a day; the scaliness will go away and your filly will be fine."
Chaldor and Ichna both looked down at the tiny jar of salve doubtfully. If it could have been cured with a lotion, surely the midwives would have had something...? But this is where they had sent the new parents for advice... what was the point of coming if they would not take it. Ichna pursed her lips and looked to her husband.
"Thank you for your time. What is the total?" he asked the doctor, trying to keep the disbelief from his voice.
"Ten silver chips should suffice," Tanderr returned, motioning toward the front lobby and moving to open the curtain again. Chaldor heaved a sigh; that was a decent sum for a doctor's visit if they had found a real issue, but to be told to use a salve...?
Already Ichna was re-wrapping the tot, who had fallen asleep again, and carefully placing her in the basket she'd come in with. Obediently the two followed the doctor back out to the lobby, paid him, thanked him for his services, and stepped back out onto the dusty streets of the marketplace.
"Hmmmm..." was all Tanderr said to himself after they'd left, again supporting his weight on three legs as he tapped his chin with one of his front hooves.
On the cart-ride home, Chaldor and Ichna huddled at the back of the cart, distancing themselves from the earthpony who was dressed in a brightly-colored poncho and seated next to a basket of green chilies. Luckily the chestnut-colored stallion had seated himself at the fore of the cart, nearest the two cart-pullers - a pair of powerfully-muscled earthponies, themselves, one green and one purple, both with white manes, practically a staple around the marketplace for how often they gave rides - so the couple could talk in relative peace.
"Did you see the way he looked at us?" Ichna asked Chaldor, her usually demurely-angled eyes now sharply creased with worry. It pained Chaldor to see his wife this way. He knew it felt wrong, too, but he tried to comfort her.
"We'll just... do as he says, dear. He is a doctor, after all. What do we know? This is our first child..." he struggled to get the last part out.
They had been so much in love with one another that they hadn't felt the need for a foal until recently, when the chances of complications... and even deformities in the child... were much higher. Ichna had fretted every day since the conception, despite how he'd tried to comfort her. They had even had weekly - and expensive - home visits from the foal-specific doctor to make sure she was eating correctly, exercising, resting enough, and not overworking herself. They had worked so hard to make sure the child would have every chance at a healthy life. It almost seemed to go against all of the work they'd put in, to automatically assume something was wrong. It was best they trust the doctor the midwives had sent them to... right?
"Three times a day," he repeated the doctor's orders as he looked down at the small sack they'd put the salve into upon leaving. Ichna wasn't looking; her eyes were on the basket coddled between her front legs.
Kibeth was staring up at them cheerily from inside the swaddling, and under the hood. Her hoof was stuck solidly in her mouth and she was suckling on it, trying desperately to find sustenance in it. All the while her bright, red eyes were staring up at Ichna, large in her petite face. For a moment, the worry in Ichna's face disappeared; she smiled down at the tiny filly. Chaldor noticed this and hushed himself, instead taking on the worry for the both of them, his well-worn features frowning deeply. He put one hoof on the nearest of his wife's and they finished the cart ride home in silence.
The day passed into evening, and Kibeth was given two applications of the lotion. It made the entire house smell like a mix of burnt leaves and a heavy, earthen, soil scent, the smell of decay and rebirth in simultaneous harmony, but still not a necessarily pleasant one. Kibeth squirmed and kicked when they put it on her; Chaldor got a strong kick right to the side of his muzzle and, frustrated, passed the duty on to Ichna for the evening.
Ichna was a bit more careful. She laid Kibeth in the crib they'd had specially made for the filly, pushing a small, jingling mobile out of the way. Kibeth's eyes followed it, her cheeks pinching as she mustered a happy, if tired, grin at the sight and sound of it.
"Not right now, little one," Ichna chuckled, her voice low, attempting to sooth the filly. Kibeth's eyes darted over to her mother and she let out a small giggle, and then yawned widely.
"Yes, it is almost bedtime, isn't it," her mother responded, stifling a yawn herself.
She pulled a small bit of the salve from the jar, on the tip of her hoof, and while leaning over the crib, carefully spread it on the filly's forehead. Kibeth looked up at it curiously, and just as her mother began to rub it in, she started to kick, her back legs flailing upward. Ichna had seen the blow delivered to her husband and backed off a moment, her eyes pulling down with worry. As soon as she stopped rubbing, though, Kibeth stopped kicking and cooed a bit. Ichna sighed. She thought a moment.
"Perhaps you'd like a song..." she attempted. She hummed a note and then began to sing, a soothing song she remembered humming to herself several times over the course of her pregnancy.
You're far away
Far away, little one
Come home to stay
Home to stay, little one
There are games to play
Games to play, little one
At least for today
For today, little one
We'll all be together
We'll join hooves and sing
Together forever
If you'll do just one thing
You're far away
Far away, little one
Come home to stay
Home to stay, little one...
It didn't seem to apply, really; her child was right here, now. But it had the slow cadence she assumed the song needed, and she was right; as she rubbed the salve in while singing, Kibeth's eyes fluttered, drooped, and closed. She started to suck on her hoof again, and her tiny wings fluttered and pulled in at her sides. Tears filled Ichna's eyes at the sight of her beautiful little filly, passing off into slumber. She finished rubbing in the salve and wiped her hoof on a nearby burping cloth.
"We can have the midwives teach you more songs," Chaldor said under his breath from the doorway. Ichna gasped and turned, momentarily startled, her wings fluttering in her surprise, but she quickly quieted as a smile - one of the first since seeing Kibeth in the world - spread across her face.
"She seemed to like that one."
"Well, I don't know if I can sing it as well as you, and I don't need another one of these," he chuckled quietly as he pointed to the welt on his jaw. The two stepped toward their bedroom, but Ichna was already looking over her shoulder, back into the nursery. Chaldor saw this and snorted.
"We can push the crib into the bedroom, if you like. I know it's the first night since the birth that we've had her out of the room."
Ichna thought about this momentarily, then nodded.
"I think I'd like that. I'd feel... safer," she wasn't sure why but it was clear it meant something to her.
"I'll get her, then, you go lie down," Chaldor smirked and nodded as he turned back to the nursery.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Ichna replied, before silently trotting back to their bedroom across the hall. She wasn't sure how well she would sleep tonight, but it would be better with Kibeth in the room, she knew.