Blood Tide

Chapter One

Under a blood-red moon lay a sweating Forestland mare, her sides rippling as the pain of labor overtook her. Her pale body lay glistening under the willow trees, the night stars reflecting in her terrified eyes. It was her first time foaling and it seemed like the pain of it would kill her slowly, bit by agonizing bit. But she was a wild brumby, and she was as strong as they come. Brumbies do not back down from a fight.

Crickets chirruped and far off, a rumble of thunder accompanied a flash of heat lightning. All was peaceful with the world as the birds watched curiously from the trees, gazing inquisitively at the expectant mother below them. The only other creature present was a delicate filly of about four years, mixing some nettle, yarrow, and raspberry leaves together on a eucalyptus leaf.

“Here,” said the filly, dribbling some of the mixture into the laboring mare’s mouth. “This should help things along a little, and get your milk flowing when time comes for the foal to eat.”

“Thank you Willow,” nickered the mare weakly, trying to swallow the bitter mixture. “I don’t think I could do this without you. It hurts so much!”

“I know,” said Willow gently, nuzzling the mare affectionately. “Just stay with me. You can do this! Many mothers before you have done this so you can too. Just keep heart and try not to think about the pain”

“But Willow, “said the mare, protesting. “What if the foal is stillborn? The red moon is a bad omen! I know something awful will happen; I can just feel it!”

“Calm yourself, Shyuna, my little mother,” said Willow, the herd’s Healer, although she did cast a worried glance on the threatening sky. The bloody moon hung low in the black abyss, giving little light for non-nocturnal creatures to see by. The stars seemed to twinkle out, one by one as clouds rolled over the night sky. Another rumble of thunder vibrated through the air, closer this time. The birds in the trees called frantically to each other, signaling the beginning of a summer storm. Koalas clambered up their trees, hiding bashfully in their homes. Wombats scuttled out of sight, and snakes slithered into their holes, fearful of what was to come.

“Willow, you can get to shelter! Just leave me here, I can’t move anyways,” said Shyuna, another contraction rippling across her fallen form. She grunted and kicked her hind legs a bit, trying to tuck her bound tail to her body.

“No,” said Willow calmly. “When the foal comes, you will be too weak to let it breath. Someone needs to be here to get the casing off. And don’t tuck your tail to your body like that! You’ll ruin my fine eucalyptus binding and it will get in the way!”

Shyuna made no argument as a shudder shook her frame. A small whimper escaped her as her legs locked, and her head lay limply against the grass in the willow grove.

“It’s coming,” breathed Willow.

*

*

*

Far away, across the plains, yet two more brumby mares were giving birth. Whether by odd coincidence, or by fated chance, each mare struggled hard in bringing a new life into the world.

One mare, who was a two-time Mountainland herd mother, was barely holding onto her life as she sheltered in a rocky cave, her herd’s Healer beside her. Sweat poured off her shaking flanks and her nostril flared, trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible.

“Amethyst!” cried the mare. “Something’s wrong! This birthing isn’t like the others. The foal has stopped moving, and I feel nothing. Nothing!”

“It’s okay,” said the Healer who was a shaggy mountain pony. “He’s just taking his time, that’s all. Poor mite, he probably heard the thunder outside and is getting too scared to come out of his shell.”