Mstsofavlon

“I’m sorry, baby” Dusan nuzzles Nadia as she glares down at her weak dying foal. Nadia stands there, her hocks buckling under the weight of her emotions. “H-h-he sh-should have st-stood by n-ow” her eyes glass over as she whispers something into the weak life laying limp before her. The cold of winter was before them, and the snow was crusted over her thick matted hair, an old bear skin attempting to keep her frail body warm. “Hun, I don’t think he’s going to stand.” Dusan whispers, nuzzling Nadia carefully, knowing that she is in a delicate state. Nadia shutters “NO, HE WILL STAND.