It was the darkest night of the year, wind howling, trees clashing when she was born. Her mum was going along fine, all going to plan, nothing wrong, until the foal came out. The foal, black as night, dusted with white, and drops of red scattered across, and the hair, the short spiky mow hawk sprung from her neck like a giraffes. I was to afraid to approach her, the look she had, how her ears were pinned, it sent shivers straight down my spine. She looked like her parents, and her personality even worse, Tötlicher Zorn...
The foal stood on shaky legs, ears flat against her skull.
I took a step back, nervous and trapped. She charged forward and stumbled into me. As me fell, I wrapped my arms around her tiny damp frame gently to break her fall. Landing in a heap, we untangled each other and I backed away slowly. Her mom raced to her side, budging her back into her feet. Her eyes glaring at my back as I left the stall.