Midway through the journey, she felt the mother of all contractions prime itself to rock her banded belly. Digging her hooves into the ground she frantically looked around for anyone to help, the sheer force of the contraction not enabling her to make anything more than some panicked gasps. Already she could feel the thin membrane of the egg sac starting to break, a few drops of sticky, syrupy egg fluid dripping. A mere fraction of the sheer flood that was about to gush out from her. Turning a hallway into a nursery wasn’t on her agenda today, but she would have to make due.
Art from Patch.