The air in the grotto was cool, but the ground was hot with Sa's exertions. She lay cushioned on a bed of grass that had been gathered days before and changed daily, but still she felt uncomfortable. Her eyes were filmy, and she could barely see the side of the cave, though the lichens shown brightly. Someone was whispered little assurances in her ear. Khraa? No, Sa thought, her mate's voice had a deeper timbre, and he had left her to find a midwife. I don't need a midwife, Sa had told him, I've had a foal before. But Khraa had left anyway, spurred by the memory of his lost daughter.
Again the voice interrupted Sa's thoughts. A light sort of voice: a mare. The midwife, Tal, most likely. Sa raised her head, cracked her eyes open further and cast about the grotto, looking. Indeed she soon caught a wavering, foggy silhouette standing close by. The dark blue of Tal's coat stood out strongly against the soft green glow of lichens.
"Closer, now," said the midwife in Sa's ear. "The body partway out. The forelegs kick. It's very well alive, and strong." Sa let her head fall back to the cool stone and groaned, her belly aching and her guts roiling. Her backbone clinched as another violent strain shook her, and she let out a pained moan. Almost out, Tal said somewhere. The foal was almost out.
Then, suddenly, she felt a huge push and something seemed to drop from her. Still, the contractions continued, and she grunted, barely able to resist the urge to thrash about. Tal appeared by her head, crooning wordlessly to soothe her. Within a very short amount of time, the contractions were over.
Sa raised her head, looked around groggily, but could not summon the strength to stand yet. She heard the clopping of Tal's hooves on stone, a soft rip of birth sac being torn away from the new one. Tal deposited the caul gingerly by Sa's nose. Eagerly, greedily, the prince's mate gobbled it up, her teeth grinding at the sac. Strength pulsed through her limbs once more, pricking her with pain. "A colt," she heard Tal say.
Revitalized, the gray mare heaved herself to her feet, staggering a little at first, but quickly regaining balance. Something snapped between her and the foal. Tal, having served her purpose, knew enough to step away and let mother and newborn unite. The little foal lay upon the ground, dark black, his sides sighing softly as he breathed.
Sa dipped her nose, nuzzled the little one all over, the swept her tongue across his side, cleaning and warming him. He flicked his large ears and rolled onto his stomach, curious and innocent eyes peering into corners and taking in the first sights of the world while Sa waited patiently.
After waiting what she had deemed a sensible about of time, Sa rubbed her nose along the crest of the foal's neck, felt him arch to meet her touch. Then she brought her nose back and gave the little black foal a bump, urging him to stand. She placed herself before him, well within his sight, and nuzzled him towards her.
Understanding that food stood in front of him, the colt braced his legs beneath him and heaved. Sa was vaguely away of Tal quietly exiting the grotto, assured that the foal was doing well on his own. The dark one fell immediately, plunging almost straight onto his nose, and lay there for a moment, tail flicking in annoyance. His hindquarters remained raised, though his nose was down, and the little princeling was clearly agitated by the lack of dignity his position gave to him. Sa whickered again, urging him on.
The forelegs untangled themselves and the colt pushed himself up, quivering with effort. He stepped delicately forward, placing the first hoof carefully, and all his legs went out from under him immediately.
Undeterred, the little unicorn began gathering himself together again. Sa stood patiently, silent, understanding her new son's need for time. He could and would do this on his own.
Slowly, when his legs were back under him again, the colt pushed up. The purchase on stone was poor, but he managed it. Now the colt gave a careful little push with one hindleg, and the opposite foreleg swung forward. Swiftly catching himself from a fall, the prince pushed off with another hindleg, and stood braced. For a moment he managed the splayed position, and then the dark young princeling tumbled to the floor, legs stretched out both in front of him and behind. Now he made a little crying sound.
Moved to comfort him, Sa lipped her foal's neck. The mane had not yet started growing, and was but soft tassels that stroked against the side of her muzzle. She nudged his neck yet again, posing her legs so that her udder hung in full view. Looking up, the princeling blinked his wide, dark eyes, and then gave another push to right himself.
This time the legs came together of a will, balancing him delicately on four stilts. The colt's brush of a tail flicked agitatedly, and he now gave a push with his hindquarters, caught with his foreleg, then brought the hindleg forward. He followed it up on the other side. It was awkward, but he held up, and soon he stood before his dam. Wasting no time sniffing her, the little colt head dove towards her udder, his mouth closing about her teat. Sa stiffened slightly, then craned her neck around to watch him as he drank. Suddenly, she felt a nicker rising within her throat, and she brought her face up to the tiny ear.
"Sekoro," she whispered to him. The colt's ears flicked across her muzzle, tickling her fur, and the gray mare pulled back, letting her head fall, her eyes droop with pleasure. Sekoro. Her colt. He will grow to be strong and smart and wonderful, Sa thought to herself. My Sekoro.
She heard the clip-clop of approaching hooves and turned her head quickly, muscles tensing suspiciously. Khraa paused in the entrance to this little part of the grotto, ready to pull back if his mate hinted distress. But upon seeing her mate, Sa softened, allowing her head to droop, her ears to slant lazily akimbo. Khraa picked his way delicately around her, his eyes riveted on the suckling colt.
Sa watched him, her dark, coal gray mate, full of pride and very regal, humbled to a prancing, nervous stallion, unsure of where to step. Amused, she laughed at him, warmly, and he paused and looked abashed. Then, stepping around the foal, Khraa brought himself up to Sa and nudged her neck. She rested her chin on his neck for a moment, then pulled away. The gray prince of the unicorns arched his neck down and examined the bed of soft grasses where his mate had strained herself to bring a foal into the world such a short time ago.
"Look," he murmured softly. Sa turned her head, looking at the bed of grasses. Khraa lowered his nose and nudged an umber-hued, glistening object out of the grass. "The melch," he said, looking up at Sa. His eyes were sparkling.
"He'll be a great one then, by Alma's Eyes." Sa bobbed her head weakly. "He'll bring something great into this world."
Khraa nodded gravely. He raised his head and peered around, then turned his eyes onto the foal. "What will we call him?" Khraa inquired.
Sa paused for a moment. Sekoro's truename was his own, and only he could make the decision to tell his father. Then an idea struck her. "Korr," she said. "We'll call him Korr."
Khraa paused. "Thunder," he whispered. Thunder, the bass rumbles that had drowned Tursi's cries that stormy night on the lookout rock. . . . He shook himself. Sa felt guilty for reminding him of that night when his belovèd daughter had died, but she felt it was appropriate to honor Sekoro's lost sister in this tiny way.
Khraa was nodding. "Korr, then. I will go inform the herd that it is a colt, and he is safe and well." He left.
Sa allowed her tired neck to droop. Her eyes slanted shut. "And great," she murmured. "Safe and well, and great." Korr, finishing his first meal of life, gave a little hiccup and dropped to the floor. Sa looked at him and watched him fall asleep. She could hear the thrum of the dancing, happy hoofbeats from outside the cave, but all she saw was her dark little thunder.
