Post by cheezwizzard on Apr 5, 2012 11:58:38 GMT -5
Finally! The Autumn had come and Fever could finally rid herself of the damned beast. Her stomach was still slim, not as round as other mares. Sweat beaded up on and around her boa, her tassels were tangled and clung to her moist nape as if it was the lef source and leaving it would be death. Though her body shook with pain and fear made her vision blurry, a wicked smirk danced across her maw as she creeped in the dead of night. She wasn't afraid, why should she? Fever was an immortal temptress, nothing could harm her.
Green pools gleamed as she searched for a comfortable spot. She wasn't going to lay in a bed of thorns, it had to be perfect, like her. Finally her orbs landed upon a group of willows, their branches formed a curtain from the outside world. Pushing threw, Fever collapsed in the middle of the clearing.
After hours of contractions Fever turned to examine the child. She was a spitting image of Shatter, the father. Black as night with pearl lacing. Her pools were a bright amber, like liquid gold. She was a little spitfire, already trying to stand. With a sigh, Fever began to clean the foal, already knowing she would keep the lamb. Names raced through her mind. "Silhouette. Let's get moving child and fine your sorry excuse for a father." Fever said with an almost motherly voice. She gently urged the filly to stand and moved off at a trot, Silhouette following her lead.
Green pools gleamed as she searched for a comfortable spot. She wasn't going to lay in a bed of thorns, it had to be perfect, like her. Finally her orbs landed upon a group of willows, their branches formed a curtain from the outside world. Pushing threw, Fever collapsed in the middle of the clearing.
After hours of contractions Fever turned to examine the child. She was a spitting image of Shatter, the father. Black as night with pearl lacing. Her pools were a bright amber, like liquid gold. She was a little spitfire, already trying to stand. With a sigh, Fever began to clean the foal, already knowing she would keep the lamb. Names raced through her mind. "Silhouette. Let's get moving child and fine your sorry excuse for a father." Fever said with an almost motherly voice. She gently urged the filly to stand and moved off at a trot, Silhouette following her lead.