The baskets took a while to be finished the next day. Light was the one who figured out how to fashion the strap that held two baskets across a pony's back. Pink and Pucker had barely finished their baskets before they were running back to their dams to show what they'd done. Dim Light made no motion to move though, calmly running her hoof over the weaving of her own basket.

"Don't you want to show your dam?" Thistle asked.

"Oh, no. She wouldn't want me to bother her." Dim refused. "Mother wants to focus on the new foal."

"Mother?" Thistle repeated. It was another word for dam. She didn't hear many ponies using it though.

"She doesn't like being called Dam. She thinks Mother sounds more," Dim tapped her chin for a moment. "How did she put it? More respectable?"

"What's wrong with Dam?" Thistle wanted to know.

"I have no idea." She admitted. "Regardless, she'll be happier if I stay away until sundown."

"Alright then," It didn't look like Pink and Pucker were coming back though. Thistle slid her baskets on and looked over towards Enduring, Morning, Mountain, and Oak. Mountain was awake, having a good whisper with Morning. Oak was standing a little apart from the mares, lying on the grass in a doze.

Enduring noticed her looking and walked over.

"Yew fillies finished wid dose new-fangled 'baskets?'" She gave one of the baskets a good sniff.

"Yup!" Thistle wriggled a bit to make the strap set better. It chafed a bit. "Now I can carry medicine in case anypony needs it."

"Got's to get dat medicine first, Burr." Enduring reminded her. "An' yew, little filly? Yew happy wid dat basket o' yers?"

"Yes, Elder." Dim nodded shyly.

"Time ta start gadering den," Enduring turned towards the trees. "Yew comin', little filly? Whut's yer name?"

"Dim Light, and I'd love to come, Elder." She looked between Thistle and Enduring.

"Right den. Da two of yew should keep yer eyes peeled for any gourds." They began to walk. "Burr, start practicin' yer countin'. Go as high as yew can widout stopping."

"Yes, Enduring. One, two, three," She pulled some yarrow bark from a tree as they passed. Counting was easy stuff. She could do it backwards too, if she concentrated. Not as high as she could count forwards though.

She got all the way to a hundred before Enduring told her she could stop. Thistle thought she'd proven her mastery of numbers rather well. She didn't miscount or jumble them up like other foals did.

"Alright, Burr. Now say I've got four apples and yew have seven. How many apples do we got together?" Enduring came at her from an unexpected angle.

"Uh, four and seven. Five, six, seven, no wait." Thistle held still. Seven was three away from ten, one more than that would be eleven!

"Good filly." Enduring nodded. "Light, dis one's fer yew. Say I've got six pebbles and yew've got three. How many do we got together?"

Light clearly hadn't expected to be included in the lesson. Thistle snickered to herself and began digging up loco-roots for Mountain.

"This is hard. Why do we have to know this?" Light huffed in frustration after ten more questions of that nature.

"It's a useful skill ta have." Enduring added some five pointed leaves to Light's basket.

"Useful how?" Light turned towards Thistle, as if she could understand everything that ran through the old nag's head. All Thistle could do was give a helpless shrug. She was sure that this was a useful skill, she just didn't know how yet. Enduring hadn't steered her wrong yet.

Except maybe about unicorns and pegasus ponies, but she was reserving judgement on those. It would be really neat if ponies like that really did exist!

Wondering for a moment if the horn would be heavy or how large the wings would be, Thistle kept adding to her basket. Enduring kept asking questions, making them harder and harder to answer. Dim Light kept up alright, but she grew frustrated easily with the mental exercises.

"Alrigh', dats enough o' numbers." Enduring decided, drawing a sigh of relief from the two fillies. "Now, whut would be a good topic ta start on?"

"What about more medicine stuff?" Thistle suggested hopefully.

"Ye've got a good handle on dat already." Enduring sniffed. "Half o' making da medicine is gettin' da plants, and yer basket gonna fix up dat problem. It'll be good to always have whut yew need on hoof."

"What about foals? Can you teach us about foals?" Dim's eyes lit up.

"Foals, eh? Well, I've raised more dan a hoofful meself." She tapped her chin for a moment. "We'll start at da beginnin'. Which is heat and whut yew do during it."

"Once yew get yer heat, yer a mare. I don't recommend letting a stallion mount ya till yer at least fifteen dough." She cautioned them. "Yer more likely ta die in birth wid da foal if yer too young. Dat's whut my dam taught me."

"Fifteen!?" Thistle's jaw dropped. She'd thought waiting three years would be bad. She wasn't so afraid about dying now that she was useful to the herd, but that still seemed like a long time to wait.

"Bah, it seems a long while now but da years'll jus' fly by, Burr." She snickered at the look on her face.

"So, da stallion mounts ye, puts his penis in yer vagina. After a couple minutes o' back n' ford, a buncha white stuff comes out of da penis an' he climbs off." She summarized. "Might do dat a few times during yer heat."

"Heat lasts about a week or so. Makes yew feel warm all over. Get an itch in yer vagina an' it starts drippin' all da time. Stallions start ta smell real good round dat time." Enduring sighed, letting memory carry her away for a moment. She shook her head to dispel the past and refocused on the fillies.

"After da heat ends yew've gotta wait a bit to see if da seed took. Yer not gonna be successful every time. Takes a few weeks before da first symptoms pop up."

"Might start feelin' sick, like yew was gonna throw up at any given moment. Certain smells are gonna tip yew off. Some mares don't get da sickness so bad, oders have it last til da foal is born. Jus' da way nature is, I suppose." She shrugged.

She continued with various other symptoms, and what could be done to soothe them. Old Mare's Tails that told you if you were having a filly or a colt. Plants to eat before and during heat that were supposed to either prevent or encourage conception.

Finally, with Light and Thistle's baskets full and trudging back to the herd, they reached the topic of foaling.

"It's gonna feel like a wolf done bit yer vagina." She stated bluntly. "An' den chewed."

Both fillies cringed. Their tails protectively tucked against their hindquarters, legs squished together. They knew foaling would hurt, everypony knew foaling hurt, but was it really that bad? Enduring sure didn't look like she was exaggerating.

"It comes in waves, da contractions. Feels like dat ole wolf just went and hooked his fangs in deep." She continued.

"Dere's herbs an' such yew can take for pain ahead o' time, but labor's a lengthy process. Takes most of a day." Thistle's ears flattened against her skull. A day?

"But," Enduring suddenly gained a spring in her step and a chipper tone. "Once all dat hullabaloo is over an' done wid yew get a foal! Give it about an hour or two and da foal should be standin', taking der first steps n' all."

"If'n der not, well," She pricked her ears forward, towards the river they could hear. "Some foals take a bit longer. Try givin'em a helpin' hoof. Get'em to yer teat. If dey don't walk by da end o' der first day it usually means da foal isn't gonna survive."

"But we're gettin' ahead of ourselves a tad." She licked her lips. "Da labor is a complicated ding an' der's plenty dat can go wrong der. Startin' wid bleeding."

So began a lengthy description of all the known ways foaling could go wrong.

"I am never having foals." Light whimpered. She found it difficult to walk with her tail plastered to her rear, but felt too vulnerable without it to consider removing it.

"You keep the stallions off me, I'll keep the stallions off you." Thistle whispered.

They hadn't even gotten to foal care. Enduring had worn herself out and barely managed to finish a terrifying description of a breech birth that killed dam and foal, along with a horrifying story about a foal born with an extra leg.

"Hey guys, where ya been?" At the coltish voice both fillies screeched to high heaven and took off at full gallop.

Staring at the dwindling cloud of dust, Pucker and Pink were left wondering what had gotten their tails in a twist.

_______________________________________________________________________________

The first mare to go down for foaling was Shiny Rock. Although the mare was tasked with keeping an eye on her, Thistle hadn't seen much of her since they'd arrived at the river. She'd wander by a few times a day, make eye contact with Thistle, nod, and walk off again. Thistle wasn't too heartbroken over it.

After Enduring's...graphic description of foal birth and all it's dangers Thistle wasn't in a hurry to experience the miracle of life up close. She'd much rather bury her nose in a tuft of grass and graze until it was all over.

There was an awful lot that could go wrong, but there were also ways to fix a lot of those things. Thistle had already learned about them from Enduring. She had several medicines, or at least the ingredients for them, in her baskets.

So she was here, standing awkwardly in sight of Shiny. The piebald mare was on her side, panting hard. Two mares hung around, one might've been Shiny's first daughter, now a mare grown. The other didn't look old enough to be her dam, so it might've been a sister or a really close friend.

Thistle thought about the things Enduring had said during that lesson. Things like vaginal tearing, sack tearing, umbilical cord tangling. She had spider webs in one of her basket, all bugs and spiders carefully pulled out. Those helped with bleeding. She had a sharp rock for severing a tangled umbilical cord.

For every problem with a potential solution there was one with almost certain death as the only possibility. Thistle couldn't say she was particularly fond of Shiny Rock, but she didn't want the mare to die either. She wanted to help.

Shiny Rock knew she was there and hadn't told her to leave yet. That had to be good enough for now, no matter how much her hooves itched to help.

"Will something happen?"

"Thistle Burr wouldn't be here if it wasn't important to the herd."

"What are those things she's carrying?"

Thistle flicked her ears away from the conversations around her. They didn't matter. She wondered where they got that impression of her though. She wished Enduring was here, but the old nag felt she wouldn't be welcome.

The labor was progressing. Thistle shifted uncomfortably and didn't allow her eyes to wander away. The real pushing had begun.

Shiny Rock had lost a foal once and then had trouble concieving for some time. What had caused the loss? Would it happen again? Was it tearing? Was it a tangled cord? Did the sack rupture too soon and choke the foal?

Shiny Rock was as silent as she could make herself be. Only the occasional grunt or groan revealed the pain she was feeling. All mares did that, Thistle knew. All mares muffled themselves. Foaling was such a vulnerable activity. So many predators loved the taste of infant flesh.

There was a hoof! Thistle leaned forward, unconciously matching her breath to Shiny's. The daughter saw it first, excitedly encouraging her mother to keep pushing. Thistle took a step forward, watching.

First one hoof, then two. More and more leg slipped out. Watching the head emerge was too excrutiating. Thistle buried her nose in the grass for a deep breath. When she managed to raise her gaze again she saw the foal was most of the way out. Finally, their back legs slipped free.

She watched as the foal was cut free of the cord and then left to climb to its feet alone. The three mares were clustered around it, Shiny had shakily climbed to her hooves to hold her teat above the foal's reach.

To get that first milk the foal would have to stand.

It took a little time for the foal to figure it out, but they managed. Within the hour they were having their first meal and the ponies surrounding them sighed in relief. Thistle joined them, then slowly walked away to the part of the river bed she'd started to think of as 'hers.'

That was the first birth of the season. It was pretty much the best case scenario for a birth.

The next one was not as lucky.

Thistle, having been witness to one birth, felt no further urge to observe the miracle of life. She'd all but decided that foals and stallions had no place in her life, at least until she was fifteen. Right now she was ten, nearing eleven, and in no hurry to push a tiny pony through her vagina.

With most of her fears and concerns assauged, though she heard of the second mare going down to foal, she did nothing. She mixed medicine while talking to Dim Light, who weaved baskets for Mountain and Morning.

She didn't have the ingredients for every kind of medicine Enduring told her about, nor the gourds for some of them, but she had enough for a nice little stock pile. If anypony else got bit by a snake she wouldn't have to range very far for medicine.

"Thistle Burr? I need Thistle Burr!" A mare was shouting, galloping towards them. Thistle hardly had time to make eye contact before the mare was dropping to her knees in front of her.

"Thistle Burr, there you are! Please, my dam is foaling but the foal won't come and her water broke before sunrise and and and and--!" The mare began breathing too quickly.

"Whoa, hold up there." Thistle cocked her head to the side. "Your dam?"

"Marsh Steps, her water broke just before sunrise, but it's been ages and there's still no foal! Please, help!" The young mare, either thirteen or fourteen, begged.

"O-Okay," The foal had to be dry in the womb by now. What had Enduring said about that? "Let me just-!"

The young mare swept Thistle off her hooves and took off back the way she'd came. Thistle yelped and wrapped her forelegs around the mare's throat to avoid being blown off. Ponies followed them with their eyes.

In a few seconds they'd arrived. Marsh Steps was near the bank, panting tiredly on her side. It couldn't be more obvious that she was exhausted by her struggle. Another filly, this one nine or so, was brushing the sweat from her forehead.

Thistle jumped off her ride, running to Marsh Steps. The muddy brown mare briefly focused fuzzy eyes on her, but quickly lost the strength for even that much. Without allowing herself the luxury of hesitation, Thistle touched her hoof to the tender area. Bone dry.

A dry birth. Bad. Foals rarely survived, and when they died they tended to take their dams with them because there was no way to get the foal out after the mare lost all strength.

Well, almost no way.

Thistle dug some loco-roots from her baskets and chewed them up. Once soft, she spat them onto her hoof and made Marsh swallow them. Now she looked to the crowd of on-lookers.

"You two," She pointed at two full-grown mares. "One on either side, help me walk her to the water."

"Huh?" One of them startled.

"No time! Get moving!" She snapped, driving the two into action. Marsh moaned in pain as she was brought into the water. Thistle carefully instructed one mare, a peach pink with an orange mane, to act as a rock to keep Marsh from floating away. The other mare was drafted to hold Thistle up so she didn't have to think about swimming.

There would be time for hesitation and disgust later. Right now these two had only one hope.

Thistle stuck her hoof up another mare's vagina.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The foal hadn't made it, but Marsh had. Thistle had hoofed over some leaves good for making her sleep, then as a final favor she'd taken the dead foal into the woods. She had to walk far to make sure no predators would follow her back to the herd. All the while she'd carried a dead foal on her back.

She'd meant to leave the foal, a colt who'd never breathed, on the forest floor. She'd meant to. It was what they did with the dead. Leave them to become one with the Earth again. Leave them for the predators and guard the living.

But the idea of a wolf tearing into such a tiny foal was unbearable. If she had any talent for climbing she would've put him in a tree. Instead, she dug into the soft ground, tears streaming from her eyes, until she had a hole big enough.

"Sorry I couldn't help you." She whispered to the foal as she laid him down. Slowly, she filled the hole up again.

Once done, there was just a small mound of dirt to show where a potential pony was buried. No wolves would get to him, probably, but it still felt like she hadn't done enough.

Somewhere behind the herd was her dam, rotting away. There was also an older sister, one she only barely recalled. Ponies got left behind. They died. Sometimes the herd came across the bones of a pony, though she couldn't recall any such occassions personally.

A hole didn't seem like enough. Given a few weeks for the rest of the expectant mares to foal and the herd would move on. Time would disguise the fact that in this forest was a pony who never got the chance to grow.

She wanted some way for other herds to pass this area and know what had occured here. She looked around and spotted a few rocks. She gathered them up, arranging them in a neat pile over the hole. Once the pile was nearly as high as her withers, she left.

It was dark before she got back to the Herd. Dim Light had returned to her mother, and Oak must have decided he was well enough to leave their little group. Morning and Mountain were asleep, but Enduring's head came up as she approached.

"Enduring, what happens when we die?" She asked, cuddling in close to the old nag.

Enduring sighed deeply, looking up towards the stars. She thought about Burr's question for a while.

"Nopony rightly knows." She finally admitted. "Some ponies say dere's noding. Every ding jus' stops, like yew fall asleep forever."

"Oder ponies, dey say dere's a place our spirits go, de ding dat makes us who we are. Our spirit goes to a place where dere's a pasture wid no end, wid no predators and food and water for everypony. And when we get dere we'll see all our friends n' family again."

"An Endless Pasture?" No predators, lots of food and water, and all the friends and family you lost along the way? Thistle closed her eyes and tried to imagine reuniting with her dam. It was hard to picture.

But it sounded perfect.

Author's Note

Okay, I think we did pretty well here. Had to look up some stuff about horse birth. Had to forget things about horse birth. Things are progressing well.