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 Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 5:26 pm
There it had been warm, quiet, restful. Out here, everything was suddenly different. It was still dark, but there were shadowed figures everywhere - trees of various shapes and sizes, limbs that reached out like hands, dead leaves that crunched with every movement. The noises were . . .different. . .new. . . and the red eyed foal was finding himself incredibly upset by all the unknown!
This was strange. . . and he was growing more and more frustrated. He was afraid for the first time in his life, and that fear instantly caused him to grow angry. His legs weren't cooperating with what he wanted to do, instinctively he knew he had to stand. But he also didn't realize he was stepping firmly on one of his wings oversized wings, which pulled and tugged every time he tried to rise.
He might be a kalona, but he was still very much a foal. A very newborn foal.
A snarl escaped him as he finally managed to push himself up, wobbly and uncertain, and still finding a pain in his shoulder as his wing was stepped upon. His snarl was . . . less a snarl and more a creel but . . . there he was. He was proud of this accomplishment, and he knew he had achieved something of great importance. But something moved near the corner of his eye, something that caught his attention and caused him to start.
Jerking away, he tried to whip around, only to go tumbling. Whatever had been there wasn't there anymore, and that confused the young foal very much. He didn't realize what had startled him was his tail . . . .he hardly had his legs figured out, it was no surprise he was unaware of his wings and tail at the moment. Right now, everythinig was new. . . and terribly, terribly frustrating!
Struggling to right himself again, the little kalona heaved a sigh and fought once more to get to his feet. Little creels and growls proved his annoyance . . . . It was, to the little foal, going to be a very, very, very long night.
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 7:32 pm
 It was to be a very long night indeed, for with the cold bite of winter upon the Soquili lands, Maeryn was feeling the sting of her own emptiness. It was an emptiness of spirit, and not body, for she had eaten her fill earlier that very day. The usual melancholy was beginning to descend, a melancholy that threatened to sap Maeryn of her strength, and her will to live. She didn't know how many nights she could spend alone, how many conversations she could have with thin air. Hope slowly dwindled and began to wane. She was half asleep, dozing in the cold of the night. Rain threatened in the clouds above, and she would soon seek out shelter from the approaching storm. But not yet. Not yet. She just wanted to be beside the place where Rot had bled out into the ground for just a little while longer... just a few more minutes, surely. It would not be long, she promised herself. Not long at all. Her eyes drifted completely shut, and her mind began to wander-- and then she heard it. What was that? A familiar noise, one that she had heard so many times before, and even made in the far distant past. Tail lashing back and forth, the mare shook herself into full wakefulness, alert to the sounds around her, so close at hand. There was a snarling, and something else. Something that stirred instincts both powerful and primal within her. A sound... that she knew so well. Among the growling and snarling, there were softer, more plaintive sounds. This! She knew this! Abruptly, she was on the move. She had to find it, find the sound before they did. The they that she feared would always find such sounds as these. Skinwalkers. Her crimson eyes blazed as she thought of them, and she willed her body to move faster, her legs to be more nimble. She could fly, yes, but flying in the dark was reckless and foolish. Maeryn was neither of those things. Yes, she thought that she was right. Sounds... familiar, beloved sounds. She whickered to the sound-maker, unsure of what she would find, but instinct demanding that she give reassurance. And then there he was, that beautiful, perfect foal. Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at him, realization dawning. Here was the answer to her prayers, the sign that she had been waiting for. Here, before her, was the evidence that her beloved yet looked on, and that Kalona himself worked on her behalf. For here, lost and abandoned, was a Kalona foal. He was black with red eyes that glowed faintly. She knew. She knew that he was hers from the moment she saw him, and her will to live, a will that had been almost nonexistent for so long, strengthened. This was her purpose, this was her cause. Here, on four spindly legs, was her miracle. "Hush, baby, mama is here," she told him, moving forward to support him, and help him keep to his feet. Tears stung her eyes, but she was so grateful. Oh Rötschreck, I understand now. I know what you want from me now. For here, so perfect and beautiful, was the symbol of their love. He wanted her to live. And, miracle of miracles, she knew suddenly that she would be able to feed this young foal. She could feel it down to her very bones, could feel the changes those baby sounds made in her. Necessity and the dark god had given her the means with which to renew this young life. Leaning down, Maeryn nuzzled at her little colt, feeling a deep and profound love swelling in her chest. Oh Rot. This was for her, for them both. Gently, carefully she encouraged the foal to stand.
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Posted: Wed Dec 08, 2010 10:48 pm
He was too busy thrashing about to hear the difference between the crunching of leaves he was making the stirring of another nearby. He was too upset, too frustrated by the cold, by his hunger, and his general confusion of the world around him. Something was missing, something. . . . something important. He didn't know what, but once again, instinct caused him to creel out as if seeking a response.
Strangely enough though, while the crackling and shuffling of leaves didn't alert him, a different noise did! It was something familiar, something he knew without knowing. The noise wasn't something he had heard in quite awhile, the reassuring whuff of . . . . of something he needed. That sound, that noise, only encouraged him to creel once more, the sound almost desperate. While he would grow in to a predator, his body and mind were programmed to understand the idea of a mother. In some cases, such programming could be dismissed and if fate favored him, he might grow well enough alone. Some kalona abandoned their offspring upon birth, to figure out life on their own. But in other cases, such a thing was never and could never be.
Thankfully for the small, spike-tailed male, Maeryn was not the sort to devour him nor continue on without a heart. In fact, she was what he was searching for from the very beginning. . . .
Mother.
Red eyes turned up to the predominantly ebony mare and stared at the larger creature. For a brief moment, there was no differentiating Maeryn from anything else in the world. She was . . . purpose, intention, he knew none of those things. Not, of course, until she brought her head down and nuzzled him. The contact brought an instant source of understanding to the colt, and a bond immediately began to form.
Here was his first touch of warmth, of tenderness, of stability. The words she spoke were soothing, and already he felt much less confused and much more at ease. As she encouraged him to rise, the little one affectionately rubbed his head against her own. He knew nothing of terms of endearment, of love, of hate. . . But part of him knew mother and he knew, without a doubt, Maeryn was it.
It was too dark to see the days old signs of the scuffle that had taken place prior. The scuffle, the chase, the hunt that had caused the end to the female whom originally guarded him. But those weren't important, and the young one would never know the difference. Maeryn wash is mother, now and forever, and that was the end of that.
With her encouragement, the black colt pushed himself up fully. He used her strength as support, and though he was still a bit shaky, and his wings were still terribly awkward, he was up. And this time, he'd stand for good. No more mistakes. . . Not with Mother here.
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Posted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 12:38 am
Maeryn's heart opened and warmed to the foal, and she nudged him carefully, helping him to take his first steps. They would be important ones, as the rain would soon fall, and her sheltering wings would not be enough to keep him warm and dry. Slowly, she led her charge, bit by bit, easing the way as much as she possibly could. They needed to get to small cave that she used to weather out storms like this one before it started up. Poor little one. What would he have done if she had not arrived, hmmn? Who would keep him warm, if not his mother? She nuzzled him, a dam breaking in her heart and allowing affection to freely flow to the little colt.
Those hungry creels tugged at her. She needed to feed him, and she would, just as soon as she had him safely tucked away within her little nest. Over the years, several young Kalona foals had sheltered in that cave with the black mare. All of them had been her sons and daughters, and this little one wold join their numbers. Maeryn paused every now and again to allow the little foal time to learn to walk and to catch his breath. It was a very slow pace they set indeed, but movement was necessary.
He was so young, so new out of the basket, but she believed in him. Whickering softly from time to time, she nuzzled at him, and urged him onward. If he needed to stop to rest, she would stop. Pausing, she looked down at him, carefully licking here and there to properly clean him. He was so newly born that he needed every bit of help that he could get. "Hush now, little one," she whispered soothingly to the colt.
She knew that he was too young to really understand what the words meant based on anything but the way she spoke them. But he could surely hear the tenderness in her tone, which spoke of warmth and safety to the little foal. She nudged at his wings, coaxing him to properly close them on his back if she could. It would soon be important, as walking any great distance (or a smallish one, in this case!) would be quite treacherous if he did not know how to fold his wings.
They moved at a snail's crawl for now, because he was as of yet unsteady on his feet. That would change in time, but for now he needed all of the support he could get, and every bit of patience she possessed. Whuffing, she blew to give him her scent, and took in the beloved scent of foal. He was her baby, her charge to look after. Her gift from the spirits, and perhaps even Kalona himself. "We'll be safe soon, and then we'll see about getting you dinner, hmmn?" Those little creels were heartrending. Poor baby.
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Posted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 6:47 pm
The young colt was very clumsy at this age, but it was to be expected. He was brand new to the world, and everything was very overwhelming for him. Thankfully though, he now had Maeryn near, and she was already beginning to teach him the way of the world.
Walking was his first challenge, but it was something he met head on. Though his legs were wobbly, and now and then he misjudged his balance and almost toppled to one side or another, the longer they continued on through the woods, the more confident his steps became. But no matter how slow they moved, no matter how much he stumbled, he noticed that the red eyed other never was far. . . . Occasionally she'd make noises, but they were soft, gentle . . . And any fear or anger he felt would instantly diminish. She was soft to the touch, and warm, both good things as far as he understood. Warm was better than cold . . . . and the world was cold.
Together they moved on. Now and again, the silver and violet marked foal grew a little too confident on his legs. He'd puff out his chest and get ahead of himself, trying to mimic the way Maeryn walked. . . and for a moment, he would seem to grasp the concept. But his confidence often blinded him from the small twigs and sticks and roots that were covered by winters dead leaves. And, too often, he'd trip and fall or lose his balance with an indignant squeal.
But . . . getting up again was something he did master. He was a pro when it came to rising, though if he'd occasionally scurry back between Maeryn's legs and cuddle close, it wasn't because of his wounded pride. No. She was warm. . . yes, that was it. She was warm and comfortable and someday he'd walk like the best of them.
As for his wings. . .well. . . . everything seemed to click as soon as Maeryn tucked them against his sides. He found them less burdensome than before, and did his best to keep them furled. Unfortunately though, when they were spread, he found them to be awful. They were heavy, and he didn't have much strength to hold them up and out. But it never took him too long to get them refolded, especially with his mother nearby to assist.
As for his tail . . .well. . . it still occasionally startled him. If it didn't touch the back of his leg or side, or if his clumsy hind leg didn't step on the long tendrils, then just the motion along would catch his peripheral vision and he'd whip around. But never, ever, could he catch it. . . .Thankfully though, once again, Maeryn was there to keep him on task. If their trip was long due to his slow and weak pacing, it was just a little bit longer of a journey due to his tail.
The young one didn't know where he was going but he did trust his mother completely. The walk was long, and he did tire easily. His hunger was growing though, and while he stopped now and then to creel up plaintively at Maeryn, he also took to nibbling on her leg. But that wasn't right . . . was it? No. But it was the best he could do . . . .
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 11:27 am
Maeryn blew into the foal's hair, nudging him toward the cave. It had taken them sometime to reach it, but the colt was hungry, and she needed to feed him. "Come," she said, amused by his attempts to eat. Nipping at her leg would not solve his problem. Carefully, gently, she urged him to try again once they were safely within the shelter of the cave. No Skinwalker had traversed these lands in some time, and never had they neared the cave. It was safe, for now.
She planned to keep alert during the night as her baby slept, ever watchful for any sign of danger. There would be so much to teach this little one, and no one to help her care for him. She would always have to guard him, until he was old enough to defend himself. Flight would be imperative. The little colt would have to learn how to fly as soon as his wings could carry him. He wasn't ready yet, she knew.
But as soon as he was... well. Maeryn was worried now, worried because there was no protector to keep her baby safe while she slept, or went hunting. He would have to stay near at hand at all times, or carefully hidden. Unless she could find Nemesis to tell him of the new baby. Perhaps he would be willing to help with his newest, and youngest brother? But she could not rely upon that.
Not when their herd was spread so far apart now. He had a duty to the herd. Perhaps... hmmn. Perhaps Sin would be able to help with the foal. It was a possibility. If not Sin, then perhaps Anathema. The twins might very well be able to work together, and the thought of it calmed her slightly, gave her hope. Where was Bane? Ruin? She knew very well where Hex was.
Her baby needed a name. Craning her head around to peer down at him lovingly, she considered the problem. Then, slowly, a name came to her down through the years, a memory so old that she had almost forgotten it. "Keiran." It had been her father's name. Yes, that was why it was so familiar. It was a good thing for her precious miracle to share a name with the stallion of distant memory.
"Little Keiran, you will grow to be stronger than even your grandsire. He could not hold back the tide, but you will." She nudged him, and nuzzled him, and believed in him. With every nudge, she brought him closer, and tried to show him where he could reach up to drink his dinner. "I believe in you, baby. I love you so much." It had been, truly, love at first sight.
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 10:40 pm
Every time Maeyrn spoke, his little ears pricked and swiveled. He didn't understand her words, but he could respond to the inflection. And everything she said, everything she spoke, only strengthened the bond he felt. He might biologically not be of Maeryn's blood, but he was of her heart and that was all that mattered. She would forever be Mother, the most important being in a foals life. Today would be no exception.
The little colt reveled in the scent of his mother, of the giant beast that encouraged him to walk, and nuzzled his sides. Her touch was comforting, and Keiran found that his aggravation and temper were easily kindled by her reassurances. The world had once been far too big and frightening. It had been new, and had caused him a great amount of aggravation. . . . but with Maeryn, well, everything just seemed better. Everything was as it should be and without him snarling and snapping at the world, desperately trying to figure life out as he went, he could now be much more alert and confident.
Some might peg him weak for depending on Maeryn at this moment, but there was no shame in forming a bond with family. There was no shame in encouragement, in reinforcement. Sometimes, to grow alone was more of a hindrance to their race as well as their numbers. A little aid didn't make one weak, especially one as small as this newborn foal. Thankfully though, the black and silver one didn't know about the 'politics' involved in child rearing, or of kalona numbers, or even of Maeryn and her life. All he knew was she was warm, and comforting, and was already the foundation of his world.
The small, whip-tailed one creeled softly as Maeryn nuzzled and spoke to him. Occasionally his red eyes looked in to hers, innocent and full of trust. While he would always have aggressive tendencies, while he would grow in to something capable of hunting, killing, destroying . . . just because he was a kalona didn't mean he was incapable of feeling. And perhaps love was discouraged by some of their species, or was a term that was tainted, right now the little foal couldn't help from feeling it. It was instinctive and it was natural.
Keiran. The name meant nothing to the little one yet, but the more she spoke to him, the more he would learn that it was his new name. It was his title, it was what Maeryn would call him and he would leave a legacy behind him under such a name. But right now, her words and affection weren't settling the hunger in his stomach, the twist of emptiness, the starvation he felt. It was only when she encouraged and guided him that Keiran discovered exactly what it was he needed . . .
Milk!
He was without fangs at the moment, though he would grow quickly as all young ones did. But right now, he found sustenance with the mare. His creels died, and he drank, his little tail wrapping uncertainly about his hind leg. Foooooood. Food. Food. Food. Only now was the little one content, was the little one quiet. . . . From Maeryn he would survive another night, from Maeryn he would forever be molded and learn his place in the world.
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