SCA: Foaling Season
Holli checks on her broadwing herd and finds a special foal amongst the newborns
Holli trekked up a grassy ridge. For the past month, her mares had been hatching their foals. Each day, she made the journey from her house, past the gardens, and across the pastures, to the edges of the pine forest to see if any new mares had emerged from their nesting grounds with their new young. Keeping track of which mares produced how many and which foals was crucial to keeping the herd in check, and letting buyers know how many young pegasi she’d potentially have to sell. It was always a busy, stressful time. On any other day she wouldn’t have minded, but it was the end of the season and she was alone. Holli’s husband, Rorek, was out with a group of cowboys driving a portion of her herd northward across the Iron Cliffs Divide to an auction. Her daughter Sanna, while fairly capable at ten years old, wasn’t ready for this kind of work, and was more useful watching over the gardens and the hearth while Holli was in the meadows. So she was alone to tend to the homestead, Sanna, and the mares.
She finally reached the top of the ridge. Wiping her brow, Holli surveyed the land around her. Dark mountain storm clouds gathered in the distance, contrasting with the vibrant greens of the meadow below. There were almost fifty broadwings housed here.
The meadow was surrounded by an old forest where the mares would go to nest and hatch their eggs. Twenty seven foals had already been born, and Holli expected more. Holli’s goal was to record and tag all of them.
She needed to get close enough to nab a feather of the mother, and to tie a tag to the foal’s wing. But the foals were skittish of her, and the mares were often over-protective. It was a challenge to say the least. She recognized a group of foals she had tagged. And then a new foal caught her eye. She slid down the ridge on her heels and made her way through the herd. She recognized the mare. Unlike the various shades of red and tawny most of the other mares were, this one was a steel blue fading to black in her legs, wings, tail, and head. She looked mysterious and imposing, but her nature was sweet. Holli’s own broadwing, Semrah, had fathered this mare, and she was nearly a perfect copy of him in terms of color.
With the mare was a foal just as striking as his mother. Not a blue roan, but instead a bold red dun. He had white socks on his rear legs and a delicate white stripe down his face. Red tiger stripes criss-crossed his legs. His nose beneath his beak, and his ears were also tipped with deep red. Standing against his mother he looked like a shard of the sun had been given pegasus form. He stared at Holli, ears pricked forward. Slowly, gently she approached them.
The foal looked at her out of the corner of his eye, head cocked, until Holli was within an arm’s reach. Suddenly, he bolted! He circled around his mother, taking long leaps into the air and tossing his head as he ran. He skidded to a stop in front of Holli, half crouched and tense. He was just out of reach and his soft brown eyes held a playful gleam. Watching him closely, Holli leaned forward as if to take a step, but abruptly spun on her heel and began to walk away. The curious foal followed.
Quick as a flash, Holli turned to face him. He snorted and jumped away with a squeal, his neck arched and tail flared...but he didn’t run. Holli laughed quietly to herself. With this friendly, playful nature and fearlessness of people, he would be a magnificent pegasus both as a sire for her herd, and for a pilot. It gave her some energy!
“A game, then. Alright little guy...let’s play.”
Fin