What is it in the foal that stirs something strong, a needing to protect? Soft fluff on the coat? Long, gangling legs and a half-grown, flicking tail? Ears, back and forth, searching sounds for hidden threat and the eyes, widened as I pass?
While her mother rested in the shade, a filly foal explored the gravel lane. Climbing out of a shallow ditch, she found sweet grass beneath a low bramble on the bank. Learning as she sniffed beneath barbed branches, probing with a muzzle soft as silk to search out young, wet shoots of green.