A little bit more:
For now, though, she needed to sleep. The morning would come soon enough, and then she would be turned out, all by her lonesome, in a small paddock that was right outside her stall. It was a nice enough field, with plenty of grass, and weeds, and a few trees for shelter if she chose not to return to her stall.
Out the window her head went again, this time to shoot a glance around the pasture. It would, she thought, be a nice place to raise a foal. As far as she knew, at least. She wouldn’t have minded growing up here. For a racing stable, it was a kind, generous place, always thinking of the horses needs first. And it never ran horses in races that were too advanced for the horse.
Several champions had ran for the stables, and a few had been born here. Maybe, she pondered, my own foal will be a champion. Before she could dwell on these thoughts much longer, however, lights began to flicker on, and horses started to return to life. Her chance for sleep had been missed.
A young man, shorter than most, but mature for his younger age, approached her stall, carrying a bucket of grain. He clucked to her, trying to gain her attention and trust. It would not be lent out easily.
He did have grain, though. So for now, he was her very best two-legged friend. Knowing how humans enjoyed hearing the gentle nickers when horses were presented with food, she blew at him, letting out a low whinney and a small snort.
“Easy, girl. Excited for breakfast? You look a little tired, girl, you get enough sleep?” His babbling meant next to nothing to her, but the low sound reassured her all the same and excited her even more for the bounty awaited her.
On most days, she was given her grain in her stall, then a flake of hay, and then she was turned out to forage. Today, the young man teased her out into the open with the bucket of grain, and no hay was laid out. She was somewhat disappointed, but was sure it had something to do with…the foal.
While she began to munch on the crunchy oats, the man (whose name, unknown to her, was Taylor) pat her neck and finger-combed her mane. Next he left momentarilly, and returned with a large winter blanket, which he threw over her and buckled on.
Meanwhile, she was left wondering how much longer she had until the foal was born.