A memory of light

It was not an easy birth. His mother had never been a big mare, and the foal that pushed its way out of her womb was of his fathers ilk, big boned and heavy set. The labor had dragged on and on, as exhausting for the colt as it had to be for the mare. It was too soon, really. The journey through the Portal had set things in motion ahead of time, and its effects upon the little life was not wholesome. Limp and unmoving he slid to the ground, a lump of flesh and blood and long legs. Living, for sure, and breathing through the tear in the birth sack once a sneeze had cleared the airways. But it took a long time before he began to stir, and once he did, the sensation that greeted him was a tearing, gnawing agony so profound that it cut through any thoughts or considerations he might have had.

The first thing the cold experienced in this life was pain.

Left to his own devices for the longest time, as the pale mare was still caught in the throws of labor and unable to attend to him, he procrastinated another attempt to move. The experience had not been pleasant, and his unformed mind suggested that it might be better to do nothing. It was a good notion, an idea he profoundly approved of. But lying on the ground quickly grew boring. It was warm compared to the icy chill of his mother's stomach, which was pleasant, and damp, something he also was used to. The darkness was familiar, but the sounds were far sharper and more distinct than before. Gone was the steady thump of a beating heart, gone was the quiet swishing of birth water and the familiar touch of his twin's body. Discontent grew once these reflections had passed by him. It was different. Check. Got it. Now what? Was he supposed to lie around and wait forever before someone came to check on him?

He attempted to move again. It hurt this time too, but not quite so bad. Finding this a vast improvement, the colt pushed his head up from the ground, gingerly shifted the long legs, flexed the slithering tail and the stumpy little wings. Tendrils of slime and mucus still coated his hide but he knew nothing else and did not let it trouble him as he flopped about, busy learning the function and form of his body.

Once he felt his grasp firm enough on it all, he attempted to stand.