One of the humans was a tiny figure, a small girl-child who could barely see over the stall door even if she stood on the very tips of her toes. She was desperate to see the new baby creature that had just entered the world. The child felt the door shift inwards as she leaned on it to peer over and she took the opportunity to slip quietly into the birthing space. She had curious blue eyes and dark hair falling in tendrils around cheeks that were rosy from the chilly air. She had grown up around the horses. She recognized their sounds from when she was in her mother’s womb, and as a baby her mother would often place her stroller in the barn as she did her chores and the young girl would be lulled to sleep by the sound of the horses munching on their feed, calling softly to each other.

However, entering the stall of a new mother with her foal could be dangerous, and the adults sucked in a breath of dismay when they realized what she had done. The child’s mother moved toward the opening, intending to step in and lift her daughter away from danger, but her sister put a hand on her arm and nodded in the direction of the foal. The young girl was curled up into the space alongside the foal’s belly and was humming softly to it, running her small hands up and down the foal’s neck while Magri nickered her approval and stood protectively over them both. The foal lay still beneath the child’s hands, welcoming the feel of the small body curled against his. He could feel her heartbeat against his own and the vibration of her cheek as she hummed. After the trauma of his birth the foal found comfort in the tiny being, and it helped him adjust to this new world he suddenly found himself a part of.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” whispered one of the adults to the other.

“Gracie has always been as much horse as human,” said Harriet, Gracie’s mother. “I’m surprised her first sound as a baby wasn’t a neigh!”

Still, the adults knew there was a risk in where the child lay, and the girl’s mother crept quietly in to disentangle her daughter from the limbs of the newborn. The foal opened his eyes and looked solemnly at the girl as she was taken away, offering a faint nickering cry. Hers was the first human touch he had felt, and the imprinting was done. He would always recognize her smell, the sound of her voice, and the gentle touch of her hands.

Gracie whimpered at being taken away from the young horse, but the excitement of the night had caught up with her and she was ready to return to her warm bed. Harriet carried her away from the stable, the girl's head resting on her mother’s shoulder. She waved a sleepy goodbye to the foal and let her eyes close. That night she would dream of riding him through the orchards in the valley they called home. In her dream the foal had grown tall and strong, and she straddled him bareback, wrapping her legs under his sides and burying her hands in his mane as he flew between the rows of pear trees bathed in the glow of the moonlight.