[AW] Forget everything you've done. Start over.

[Miette]

Miette Like a flicker of light at the end of a long tunnel, she can sense them, hear them. Beyond the gush and pulse of cosy, hot fluid, the familiar sing-song of tender voices that she has come to cherish - his, hers - has become faint, turbid and rough like the storm-tossed sea. The cushy water bed which nurtures her too, has grown restless recently, equally agitated, quickening like bound elastic against her soft, soaking skin. Tiny hooves fidget, sliding together softly, as the strange sensation of labour begins around her; stiffening along her back, tightening briefly (at first) against the swing of her playful ears, and pressing in close. The murky, comfortable world she knows has become an interactive paradise and she engages, pushing back with the tiny tip of her nose, touching the friendly throb of living neighbours and bouncing bony knees off the bag that fills and spills often like a busy balloon… But her home is shrinking slowly, gradually, and the heart thudding nearby has grown hasty. Pillowy walls constrict again suddenly, clench, faster. The babe resists, forcing slim shoulders back as the neck dares to crane the opposite way, yet she tires too quickly (faster than her foe), and as her strengthless bones slump into retirement, the walls cave still further. The darkness around her shudders and convulses - almost violently - and anticipation flinches through the new, pristine cavity of her mind. What is happening? After a time lying still, unable to sleep - riding the slow, coursing tension - she stirs, flounders, for her position has become terribly uncomfortable. The bed has grown deeper, narrower, unfriendly, and elbows work in partnership with gangly, burrowing limbs (in fits and starts), to roll, curl and turn awkward length in the other direction. The new angle offers small respite and she settles down exhaustedly to sleep. Another sharp jolt flings the babe suddenly from rest, her watery nest twists unmercifully, unbearably around her and lungs suck, startled, gulping a mouthful of sweet, reassuring amniotic nectar. It is a brief lull however… That fluid is retreating swiftly and her refuge has become still tighter than a glove; it drives her frail form from behind, headfirst with force and determination that she cannot hope to match. Wriggling in vain, ignorant to the event unfolding - the whole new dimension waiting on the far side of that hill - she jostles and slithers into a horridly taut tunnel. The living walls rub constantly at her skin, coaxing and controlling her movement; this journey she unwittingly, involuntarily, has embarked on. Thin legs aim to thrash, but there is no longer room but for the forward motion wrestle of uterine contractions. She bides her time, gathering strength both physically and mentally; then - with every inch of her being, ignited with shocking adrenaline - the foal unleashes a flailing counterattack, twisting, writhing and struggling, desperate to be free.   Everything around her falls quiet, motionless, and she nearly slips between those ravenous jaws of fatigue. The last hurrah hits with unimaginable force. Huge pressure bursts from behind and forelegs clear that bump in the road like free-gliding serpents. The head - lips, nostrils and fastened eyes - follow in rapid rapid succession, then a limp neck, shoulders, and the putrid puddle of framework to conclude. She falls earth-side with a thud, crumpling into the cold palm of land, and gasps loudly, stunned and overwhelmed as sensory overload engulfs. Soggy lashes flare but for a second, closing again in an instant to deter that blinding exaggeration of light; in a stupor, face rises to wave about, helplessly vulnerable in the icy gale (mild breeze), which is such a contrast to home. A frightened cry slips by those peeling lips, and bloody, wet feathers shiver, fumble outwards until they lie sprawled - unfolded - to either side of her nestled shape.