It had seemed like a very long time indeed before the foals inside the baskets were ready to leave. They'd grown bigger than they were at birth, that was certain, though their first steps were still as clumsy, since they'd been cooped up in their baskets so long.
Still, the day had come and the lids had been untied and carefully lifted away and the foals--the colts--were able to make their way into the world.
They'd investigated. They'd met their parents again, so to speak, and then they'd started learning just what exactly they could do, now that the world was bigger than that little curved space.
Yazmina kept a watchful eye on the pair. She wouldn't step in unless there was real danger or injury, but she'd never done this parenting thing before, so her nerves were perhaps strung a little tight.
Not that the black-striped colt seemed to notice. Roque had been the first one to wander away from his parents and now he bounced back, hopping toward his brother with a little involuntary twitch of his wings. He was ready to play.
It had been tedious watching the baskets, hearing the blood and heart beats within them and not think of darker thoughts. The sounds thundered in his ears, but he kept true to his word that he wasn't about to test Yazmina's patience with him. His brother had visited often, wondering when they were coming home, he had always said soon. He watched them escape from their woven enclosures and wander about the clearing they currently called home. 
