Post by Meghan on Dec 6, 2006 9:19:00 GMT -5
Dayana sat on a bail of hay watching the horses nibble at their breakfast, their contented munching reassuring her that the whole world had not turned upside-down. Six months ago she and her parents had been happily living in Cairo, Egypt.
Her father Richard, and his brother John, had an Arabian horse importing business. Richard often traveled to Egypt to find prospective horses for their clients. On one such trip Richard met and fell in love with a beautiful Egyptian woman named Kalyn and decided to stay.
Not long after setting up his business in the famed El Zahraa stables just outside Cairo, he and Kalyn were married. A year later their daughter Dayana was born.
Most of Dayana's early childhood years were spent beside her father at the timeless El Zahraa stables. It was here that Dayana first fell in love with the Arabian horse, one of the most ancient breeds known to man.
Richard instilled in his daughter a great love for all things equine. Father and daughter spent countless hours together at the stables. Dayana was insatiable in her desire to learn about horses, and Richard had the infinite patience to answer all of her questions. Richard not only gave his daughter the gift of knowledge, but also the self confidence to act on that knowledge and take pride in her accomplishments.
Dayana remembered one of the first stories her father had told her as a little girl, and though she was now twelve she still loved to hear it. The story was called Al Khamsa, which meant "The Five." Dayana closed her eyes. She could hear his gentle voice in her mind.
"This is the story of the beginning of the Arabian breed. A very, very long time ago, the wise prophet Mohammed wished to test the courage and obedience of his Arabian mares, to seek out only the finest. One hundred of the most exceptional animals were penned together without water for several days.
Then at his command, the magnificent herd of horses was released from their enclosure. Freed from their pen, the mares ran to a nearby stream to quench their desperate thirst. However, just as they were about to reach the water, Mohammed blew his war bugle summoning them all to battle.
From all that he had chosen, only five mares stopped, and turning on their haunches, sped back to their master and their duty. These five mares Mohammed claimed were worthy to become the mothers of the Arabian breed."
Dayana looked at the three horses in their pens, Aziz, Barika, and Khadijah, her father's treasures. She imagined when she gazed into their deep, dark, expressive eyes, she could see those five beautiful, ancient mares of the Al Khamsa as they sped across the desert sands.
Aziz, an exceptional stallion in his prime, pawed at the ground in frustration at his confinement, his sleek muscles rippled under the gleam of his jet black hide. Not one white marking marred his perfect coat. Under saddle he was shear excitement and power exploding with each stride.
Barika, a gentle and wise mare with luminous eyes and a smoky grey coat, raised her delicate head high on a perfectly arched neck. Dayana had ridden her many times and each time was amazed how smooth and graceful the mare moved beneath her. Riding Barika was like sitting on a cloud.
But Khadijah, pregnant with her first foal was Dayana's favorite. She was as light as Aziz was dark, her coat, mane and tail a silken white. Khadijah's petite frame, only 14.1 hands high, made her the perfect size for Dayana and the two had made a great team in the show ring.
Aziz raised his head and bugled in alarm, the shrill sound splintering the quiet morning air. He was young, and proud, and the mirror image of his famous sire, Adl, one of the most prized stallions in all of Egypt.
Khadijah the youngest of the three, startled at the sound of Aziz's call. Pregnancy had made her sensitive and nervous. Dayana jumped off her perch and slipped into the holding pen. She stroked the white velvet of Khadijah's coat as the mare blew air through her delicate nostrils, searching out the source of danger.
Finally, the wise Barika raised her head and snorted in disgust at her two companions. Little rattled the steadfast mare, and she seemed annoyed that her breakfast should be disturbed for no good reason. Dayana smiled fondly at Barika's matronly ways. She was a calming influence and soon, following the older mare's lead, all three went back to munching their hay.
Dayana also followed the lead of her little herd and tried to let go of her own unrest. This morning would be the beginning of a long journey, one that was put into motion six months ago with the death of her father in an automobile accident.
Dayana's eyes misted over and she buried her face in Khadijah's mane trying to fight back the tears. It was difficult to fully accept that he was gone. Since the day of the accident, she had spent most of her time with the horses. They brought some comfort, but she still expected to hear his voice call out from one of the stalls. Moments when she had questions hurt the most. Without thinking, she would turn to go and seek him out then remember he couldn't answer her questions anymore. It made everything seem so unsure.
After her father's death, Dayana's Uncle John sent word that Kalyn and Dayana were welcome to come to the United states to live with his family. Though an accomplished equestrienne herself, Kalyn decided not to continue her husband's business in Cairo. Instead she would sell their horses and use the money for a new start in America.
Dayana was devastated to hear that they must sell all the horses. They seemed all she had left of her father. Desperate not to lose everything, Dayana worked hard to persuade her mother to at least take Aziz, Barika and Khadijah, the jewels of her father's years of work.
At first Kalyn was skeptical, but with a little persistent persuasion from her daughter she soon realized that taking the two mares and stallion might make good sense after all. Both Aziz and Barika had already proven themselves in the show ring and could help her establish herself as an equestrienne in the United States. And Khadijah had been bred to Aziz, now one of the top stallions in all of Egypt. The foal would be quite valuable.
Kalyn booked passage on a small freighter out of the port of Alexandria. She and Dayana would accompany the horses and provide their care. Uncle John agreed to meet them in San Francisco and transport them to his ranch in Arizona.
Activity on the docks drew Dayana's attention. Soon the horses would be moved from their holding pens to the cargo area below the ship's decks and she and her mother would join them for their journey to America. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves then ran her hand over Khadijah's swollen girth. Originally the schedule of the trip would have put Khadijah safely on land before the foal was due. However, the ship had been delayed in port and now the margin of error was growing slim.
Dayana's stomach churned in a knot. Uncertainty filled her mind. Perhaps Khadijah should remain behind? The journey might be too difficult. There would be little help if the foal were born on the ship. She looked into the little mare's eyes and a trust passed between them. Khadijah would come with them, and Dayana was determined to see her safely through.
Dayana portioned out rations of the remaining hay, and a small handful of grain for Khadijah. The trip to America was rapidly changing from an adventure to a nightmare. Not long out of port, the ship had hit a series of storms and very rough seas. Kalyn, plagued by severe dizziness and nausea from seasickness, was confined to her bed by the ship's doctor, with medication to calm her stomach and help her sleep. Mother and daughter agreed Dayana would be in charge of caring for the horses.
Dayana was quite capable. Horses were a part of her life and she was comfortable providing for their basic care. However, the ship's progress had been very slow with frequent detours to avoid the worst of the storms. Khadijah's due date rapidly approached and Dayana grew increasingly worried. What would she do if the little mare had any problems delivering her foal?
Adding to the nightmare, Dayana had discovered not long after they set sail that much of the feed and most of the water for the horses had been contaminated. Many of the hay bales had clear signs of mold and infestation of mice. Only the metal canisters holding the grain had protected them from also being spoiled. The water barrels were the worst and gave off a nasty, sour smell and had a definite foul taste.
Careful salvaging of the hay and rationing of the grain might see them through, but water was critical. The average horse drinks 20 to 30 liters (8 gallons) of water per day. Dayana decided to speak with the captain. In the morning just after breakfast, she headed for the bridge, but was quickly intercepted by the ship's first mate.
"Here, here. Where do you think yer goin' little missy," he growled tersely.
"I need to speak to the captain," Dayana replied tentatively. The first mate was a very large and rather hairy man. He appeared to have only one bushy eyebrow that traversed the width of his weather worn brow. "It's rather urgent," she continued trying to rally a little courage.
"This wouldn't have to do with those three worthless horses, would it?" the mate asked. "I told the Captain they'd be nothin' but trouble and a waste of good cargo space."
Angered by the mate's description of Aziz, Barika, and Khadijah as "worthless," Dayana was tempted to give him a loud introduction to the nearly royal pedigree of the ship's three equine passengers. However, looking into his cold, dark eyes she knew it would be a waste.
"Please, sir," she said. "Most of the water is foul. It needs to be replaced or the horses will become ill, perhaps even die."
The mate straightened to his full height crossing his large forearms over his chest. "This is no concern of mine or the Captain's. The agreement was for passage only. The owners were to be responsible for all care."
"But…," Dayana pleaded.
The mate cut her off and glanced at his watch. "I've no more time for this conversation. The weather has delayed us, so we're all on water rationing until we arrive in port. You'll have to make do with what you have."
Dayana knew by his dismissive tone she would find no help from him no matter how persistent she might be. She turned way from his stony glare and left the bridge.
Her next stop was the kitchen. Perhaps the cooks might be more sympathetic. Again she received a cold welcome. No one was willing to break the rationing order and risk the wrath of the first mate. The cook did take a little pity on the clearly distressed girl and allowed Dayana to forage through some older cases of vegetables and fruit, which he had set aside to be discarded. Though most was inedible, she managed to find a fairly good crate of slightly withered apples, a few pounds of carrots, and through the generosity of one of the dishwashers, a one pound box of sugar cubes smuggled out under his apron.
Determined not to give up, Dayana sat on a recessed stairwell catching a brief breath of fresh air hoping to come up with some sort of idea. Soon the perpetually foul weather, which had plagued their trip from the start, began again. Dayana looked up at the dark sky and wondered if the cursed storm had merely followed them all the way from Egypt refusing to let go like a terrier with a bone.
Dayana's irritation turned to enthusiasm as an idea popped into her head. Perhaps she could set buckets outside to collect the rainwater. She could start to replenish her dwindling supply. Dayana took stock of her supplies down below. She had six buckets, two for each horse. Dayana's heart fell. Horses consumed far more water each day than she could replace with a few buckets. Already two of the good barrels were empty.
Perhaps she could use the empty barrels to collect the water? They were heavy and would be difficult to move, but growing up around stables tended to grow strong muscles. Dayana spent the afternoon hauling the heavy barrels up the endless stairs to the open stairwell. The storm had kicked up nicely and with the barrels tied into place, they began to collect water…slowly…too slowly. The openings at the top were too small. Dayana stared at the barrels, the rain pounding down around her. There had to be a better way!
Dayana stepped back inside away from the storm and shook the water from her rain poncho. She looked down at the pool of water at her feet, a grin spread across her face as she quickly sped back to her cabin for a few supplies. Dayana's father had always admired his daughter's ingenuity and he would be proud of her now. Soon both barrels were steadily filling with water collected by the outstretched ponchos strung above them. The water funneled down perfectly through the hood and flowed into the barrel.
Dayana knew it would take many tiring trips to haul the water down to the horses, but at least now she felt secure that they would have enough fresh water just as long as it kept raining. For the first time on the trip, Dayana prayed for more rain.
After the chaos of the first week on board the small freighter, things began to settle into a fairly steady rhythm.
Though exhausted each night from caring for both her mother and the horses, Dayana felt fairly energized each morning from a certain feeling of newfound independence. Though reluctant at first to tell her mother about the problem with the feed and water, Dayana described the situation and her solution. Kalyn was amazed at her daughter's creativity. They spent their lunch discussing possible solutions to the mouse problem, and proper rationing of the grain. Together they worked out a good plan to see them through the end of the journey.
Dayana had hoped her mother was on the mend, but with a new round of heavy seas hitting the ship that evening, Kalyn was back in her bed. Dayana settled her mother as best she could and went down to the hold to check the horses one last time.
Before she reached the landing, she could hear Aziz's call of alarm. Poor lighting in the hold made it difficult to see. Dayana navigated the maze of cargo mostly by memory. Finally she had the stalls in sight, and it confirmed her worst fears. Khadijah was in distress.
Dayana quietly slipped into Khadijah's stall. The mare was down on her side, covered in sweat, and breathing heavily. When Dayana reached for her halter, Khadijah hefted herself to her feet and restlessly paced.
"Easy girl. Easy," she soothed.
Dayana's mind raced. She knew the signs of a mare about to foal, and there was no question, Khadijah was going to foal this night.
Dayana quickly calculated the days in her head. Khadijah was early. The foal would be born premature, only 310 days in her mother's womb. The stress from the voyage had weighed heavily on the little mare. A pang of guilt ran through Dayana. This was all her fault. If the foal died, it would be her doing.
"I wish you could have waited a bit longer, Khadijah," she said. Dayana leaned into the little mare and whispered over and over, "I'm sorry Khadijah. I'm so sorry…so sorry."
Khadijah groaned and nudged Dayana with her nose reminding her that they were in this together.
"You're right, Khadijah," she said as she wiped her eyes. "No time for crying right now. Besides, you may be small, but I know how strong you are. We can do this together."
Dayana took control of her emotions and focused on the little mare. She considered going for help, but who was there to help? Her mother could barely sit up in bed, and even if she could wake her enough to ask a question, the trek back to the cabin would take too long. Khadijah needed her here.
Perhaps someone in the crew? Dayana dismissed that idea. The ship's crew was sparse and hard to find. And the first mate made it clear the horses were none of his concern. Besides, what would any of them know about birthing a foal? She was alone and she would just have to handle this as best she could.
Through the night as the ship rolled and creaked, Dayana stood vigil. Khadijah paced, occasionally looking back at her flanks. She lay down on her side, then restlessly stood again. During the brief respites between contractions, Khadijah dropped her head low, exhaustion rapidly taking hold. Dayana prayed the little mare had the strength to see this through. Both Aziz and Barika looked on, tension quivering in their noses and ears.
Khadijah lay down again, her straining increased. A spurt of liquid signaled the bursting of the birth sack that protected the foal in the womb. Dayana knew it was time. The foal must come out soon, or it would die. The ship rolled and pitched and in alarm Khadijah began to rise. This time Dayana took hold of the halter and held her down, stroking her neck and whispering calming words.
"Easy, Khadijah. Easy, your baby is coming. Lie still. You're almost there."
Khadijah responded to Dayana's gentle handling and focused on giving birth to her foal. Dayana moved so she could see the birth canal. To her surprise and delight two forefeet appeared. Dayana nearly cheered. She knew this was a good sign. Foals born breech, their rear ends first, often had trouble making it down the birth canal.
Khadijah gave a mighty groan as the foal's nose and then head peeked out. The foal's face was covered in the birth sack. Dayana pulled it free, clearing the way for the foal to breath.
"Come on little baby," she cried.
Several more pushes and the foal was free. Dayana's eyes were filled with tears of joy as Khadijah nickered to her newborn daughter, welcoming her into the world. She gallantly tried to rise, but finally lay quietly, too exhausted to move.
Dayana watched the small, dark shape lying in the straw. It was the smallest foal she had ever seen, and in the dim light showed no signs of movement. Dayana's heart dropped. What would she do if the foal was dead? Slowly she crept closer, afraid of upsetting Khadijah. She watched the foal intensely for any signs of life. Finally Dayana could detect the shallow rise and fall of the little foal's breathing, and finally a slight twitch of a floppy ear.
Dayana breathed a sigh of relief. At least the foal was breathing on its own. Dayana had never seen or cared for a premature foal before. Her father had taught her the best thing to do with normal births was to let the foal and mother come together in their own time. Eventually the foal would rise and begin to search for its first meal. The mother's milk contained colostrum, a nutrient that protected the foal from disease, and it was important that the foal feed well during this first 24 hour period.
Dayana slipped from the stall and curled up in a blanket to watch over mother and foal. It may take several hours, but if the foal was strong enough she would soon stand and hunt for her first meal.
Khadijah finally recovered enough to gain her feet. She nuzzled her newborn daughter encouraging her to stand. The attentions seemed to stimulate the foal, and finally she attempted to rise.
Dayana had watched the comical first steps of newborn foals before. Like drunken sailors on rough seas they gather their spindly legs beneath them and rise, only to collapse in a heap as if the earth had moved beneath them. Miraculously they rapidly gain coordination and are able to take those first few shaky steps and find their mother's side in a few short hours after birth.
Unlike the other foals she had seen, when this little one attempted to stand something was not right. The tendons in her legs seemed soft, and she could not get her feet beneath her. Courageously she tried again and again to rise until finally in exhaustion she lay in the straw.
Dayana became more and more distressed. The foal's legs must not be developed enough to carry her weight. The foal had to nurse or it would die. Dayana looked sadly at the little creature who seemed to be all legs, ears, and beautiful dark eyes. They were the eyes of the Al Khamsa mares. And even though the foal was only a few hours old, she could already see the fire and the strength of her breeding.
Dayana decided then she must try to help. Khadijah had fought bravely to bring the newborn into the world. She knew the little foal would try to rise until the last ounce of her strength was gone. Dayana could do nothing less than match their efforts. Perhaps with her help, the foal would live. It would take an enormous effort. She would need to help the foal nurse every couple of hours around the clock until she had the strength to stand on her own.
Determined not to fail them, Dayana pulled the blanket from around her shoulders and fashioned a makeshift sling to help her bring the foal to its feet.
"Easy, little girl," she whispered as she approached the foal. Khadijah looked on with concerned eyes. "I'm not going to hurt your daughter, Khadijah. I'm just helping her to stand so she can nurse.
Sliding the sling around the foal's girth and placing her arm around the foal's neck, Dayana strained to lift her to her feet. The foal responded immediately, scrambling to stand.
"Whoa, there," Dayana said as the foal's enthusiasm nearly sent them both toppling over.
Dayana finally regained her balance and slowly moved the foal to her mother's side. Khadijah snuffled them both, her ears twitching in uncertainty. For what felt like an eternity, the foal searched unsuccessfully for her mother's teat.
"Keep looking little baby," she encouraged. "Breakfast is waiting!" Finally, the foal tasted her first meal, her little tail twitching in excitement.
Seeing the foal suckling at her mother's side, Dayana felt a pang of sadness. She missed her father terribly. But as she stood with mother and foal in the near darkness, her thoughts drifting to the past, that sadness was replaced with pride. If it hadn't been for her father's gentle teaching, Dayana wouldn't have known what to do, or even had the courage to try.
With her hunger satisfied, the newborn gave a mighty sigh and her weight in the sling grew heavier. Dayana gently lowered the foal to the ground and soon she was contentedly napping.
"It's been a long night," she yawned. "Maybe I can get a little sleep too."
Dayana looked up as soft light streamed in through a high porthole in the hull. The storm had broken and she could see a glimpse of the full moon. The light glinted off the foal's dark brown coat. Dayana hoped one day she would be a silvery grey, or even nearly white like her mother. A small tuft of white hair in the shape of a crescent marked her delicate forehead. Dayana knew at that moment what the name of the little foal would be.
"Your name will be Shahar, which means 'by the moon'," she whispered. As if responding to her name, Shahar briefly opened her beautiful, dark eyes.
"Welcome to our family Shahar."
Her father Richard, and his brother John, had an Arabian horse importing business. Richard often traveled to Egypt to find prospective horses for their clients. On one such trip Richard met and fell in love with a beautiful Egyptian woman named Kalyn and decided to stay.
Not long after setting up his business in the famed El Zahraa stables just outside Cairo, he and Kalyn were married. A year later their daughter Dayana was born.
Most of Dayana's early childhood years were spent beside her father at the timeless El Zahraa stables. It was here that Dayana first fell in love with the Arabian horse, one of the most ancient breeds known to man.
Richard instilled in his daughter a great love for all things equine. Father and daughter spent countless hours together at the stables. Dayana was insatiable in her desire to learn about horses, and Richard had the infinite patience to answer all of her questions. Richard not only gave his daughter the gift of knowledge, but also the self confidence to act on that knowledge and take pride in her accomplishments.
Dayana remembered one of the first stories her father had told her as a little girl, and though she was now twelve she still loved to hear it. The story was called Al Khamsa, which meant "The Five." Dayana closed her eyes. She could hear his gentle voice in her mind.
"This is the story of the beginning of the Arabian breed. A very, very long time ago, the wise prophet Mohammed wished to test the courage and obedience of his Arabian mares, to seek out only the finest. One hundred of the most exceptional animals were penned together without water for several days.
Then at his command, the magnificent herd of horses was released from their enclosure. Freed from their pen, the mares ran to a nearby stream to quench their desperate thirst. However, just as they were about to reach the water, Mohammed blew his war bugle summoning them all to battle.
From all that he had chosen, only five mares stopped, and turning on their haunches, sped back to their master and their duty. These five mares Mohammed claimed were worthy to become the mothers of the Arabian breed."
Dayana looked at the three horses in their pens, Aziz, Barika, and Khadijah, her father's treasures. She imagined when she gazed into their deep, dark, expressive eyes, she could see those five beautiful, ancient mares of the Al Khamsa as they sped across the desert sands.
Aziz, an exceptional stallion in his prime, pawed at the ground in frustration at his confinement, his sleek muscles rippled under the gleam of his jet black hide. Not one white marking marred his perfect coat. Under saddle he was shear excitement and power exploding with each stride.
Barika, a gentle and wise mare with luminous eyes and a smoky grey coat, raised her delicate head high on a perfectly arched neck. Dayana had ridden her many times and each time was amazed how smooth and graceful the mare moved beneath her. Riding Barika was like sitting on a cloud.
But Khadijah, pregnant with her first foal was Dayana's favorite. She was as light as Aziz was dark, her coat, mane and tail a silken white. Khadijah's petite frame, only 14.1 hands high, made her the perfect size for Dayana and the two had made a great team in the show ring.
Aziz raised his head and bugled in alarm, the shrill sound splintering the quiet morning air. He was young, and proud, and the mirror image of his famous sire, Adl, one of the most prized stallions in all of Egypt.
Khadijah the youngest of the three, startled at the sound of Aziz's call. Pregnancy had made her sensitive and nervous. Dayana jumped off her perch and slipped into the holding pen. She stroked the white velvet of Khadijah's coat as the mare blew air through her delicate nostrils, searching out the source of danger.
Finally, the wise Barika raised her head and snorted in disgust at her two companions. Little rattled the steadfast mare, and she seemed annoyed that her breakfast should be disturbed for no good reason. Dayana smiled fondly at Barika's matronly ways. She was a calming influence and soon, following the older mare's lead, all three went back to munching their hay.
Dayana also followed the lead of her little herd and tried to let go of her own unrest. This morning would be the beginning of a long journey, one that was put into motion six months ago with the death of her father in an automobile accident.
Dayana's eyes misted over and she buried her face in Khadijah's mane trying to fight back the tears. It was difficult to fully accept that he was gone. Since the day of the accident, she had spent most of her time with the horses. They brought some comfort, but she still expected to hear his voice call out from one of the stalls. Moments when she had questions hurt the most. Without thinking, she would turn to go and seek him out then remember he couldn't answer her questions anymore. It made everything seem so unsure.
After her father's death, Dayana's Uncle John sent word that Kalyn and Dayana were welcome to come to the United states to live with his family. Though an accomplished equestrienne herself, Kalyn decided not to continue her husband's business in Cairo. Instead she would sell their horses and use the money for a new start in America.
Dayana was devastated to hear that they must sell all the horses. They seemed all she had left of her father. Desperate not to lose everything, Dayana worked hard to persuade her mother to at least take Aziz, Barika and Khadijah, the jewels of her father's years of work.
At first Kalyn was skeptical, but with a little persistent persuasion from her daughter she soon realized that taking the two mares and stallion might make good sense after all. Both Aziz and Barika had already proven themselves in the show ring and could help her establish herself as an equestrienne in the United States. And Khadijah had been bred to Aziz, now one of the top stallions in all of Egypt. The foal would be quite valuable.
Kalyn booked passage on a small freighter out of the port of Alexandria. She and Dayana would accompany the horses and provide their care. Uncle John agreed to meet them in San Francisco and transport them to his ranch in Arizona.
Activity on the docks drew Dayana's attention. Soon the horses would be moved from their holding pens to the cargo area below the ship's decks and she and her mother would join them for their journey to America. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves then ran her hand over Khadijah's swollen girth. Originally the schedule of the trip would have put Khadijah safely on land before the foal was due. However, the ship had been delayed in port and now the margin of error was growing slim.
Dayana's stomach churned in a knot. Uncertainty filled her mind. Perhaps Khadijah should remain behind? The journey might be too difficult. There would be little help if the foal were born on the ship. She looked into the little mare's eyes and a trust passed between them. Khadijah would come with them, and Dayana was determined to see her safely through.
Dayana portioned out rations of the remaining hay, and a small handful of grain for Khadijah. The trip to America was rapidly changing from an adventure to a nightmare. Not long out of port, the ship had hit a series of storms and very rough seas. Kalyn, plagued by severe dizziness and nausea from seasickness, was confined to her bed by the ship's doctor, with medication to calm her stomach and help her sleep. Mother and daughter agreed Dayana would be in charge of caring for the horses.
Dayana was quite capable. Horses were a part of her life and she was comfortable providing for their basic care. However, the ship's progress had been very slow with frequent detours to avoid the worst of the storms. Khadijah's due date rapidly approached and Dayana grew increasingly worried. What would she do if the little mare had any problems delivering her foal?
Adding to the nightmare, Dayana had discovered not long after they set sail that much of the feed and most of the water for the horses had been contaminated. Many of the hay bales had clear signs of mold and infestation of mice. Only the metal canisters holding the grain had protected them from also being spoiled. The water barrels were the worst and gave off a nasty, sour smell and had a definite foul taste.
Careful salvaging of the hay and rationing of the grain might see them through, but water was critical. The average horse drinks 20 to 30 liters (8 gallons) of water per day. Dayana decided to speak with the captain. In the morning just after breakfast, she headed for the bridge, but was quickly intercepted by the ship's first mate.
"Here, here. Where do you think yer goin' little missy," he growled tersely.
"I need to speak to the captain," Dayana replied tentatively. The first mate was a very large and rather hairy man. He appeared to have only one bushy eyebrow that traversed the width of his weather worn brow. "It's rather urgent," she continued trying to rally a little courage.
"This wouldn't have to do with those three worthless horses, would it?" the mate asked. "I told the Captain they'd be nothin' but trouble and a waste of good cargo space."
Angered by the mate's description of Aziz, Barika, and Khadijah as "worthless," Dayana was tempted to give him a loud introduction to the nearly royal pedigree of the ship's three equine passengers. However, looking into his cold, dark eyes she knew it would be a waste.
"Please, sir," she said. "Most of the water is foul. It needs to be replaced or the horses will become ill, perhaps even die."
The mate straightened to his full height crossing his large forearms over his chest. "This is no concern of mine or the Captain's. The agreement was for passage only. The owners were to be responsible for all care."
"But…," Dayana pleaded.
The mate cut her off and glanced at his watch. "I've no more time for this conversation. The weather has delayed us, so we're all on water rationing until we arrive in port. You'll have to make do with what you have."
Dayana knew by his dismissive tone she would find no help from him no matter how persistent she might be. She turned way from his stony glare and left the bridge.
Her next stop was the kitchen. Perhaps the cooks might be more sympathetic. Again she received a cold welcome. No one was willing to break the rationing order and risk the wrath of the first mate. The cook did take a little pity on the clearly distressed girl and allowed Dayana to forage through some older cases of vegetables and fruit, which he had set aside to be discarded. Though most was inedible, she managed to find a fairly good crate of slightly withered apples, a few pounds of carrots, and through the generosity of one of the dishwashers, a one pound box of sugar cubes smuggled out under his apron.
Determined not to give up, Dayana sat on a recessed stairwell catching a brief breath of fresh air hoping to come up with some sort of idea. Soon the perpetually foul weather, which had plagued their trip from the start, began again. Dayana looked up at the dark sky and wondered if the cursed storm had merely followed them all the way from Egypt refusing to let go like a terrier with a bone.
Dayana's irritation turned to enthusiasm as an idea popped into her head. Perhaps she could set buckets outside to collect the rainwater. She could start to replenish her dwindling supply. Dayana took stock of her supplies down below. She had six buckets, two for each horse. Dayana's heart fell. Horses consumed far more water each day than she could replace with a few buckets. Already two of the good barrels were empty.
Perhaps she could use the empty barrels to collect the water? They were heavy and would be difficult to move, but growing up around stables tended to grow strong muscles. Dayana spent the afternoon hauling the heavy barrels up the endless stairs to the open stairwell. The storm had kicked up nicely and with the barrels tied into place, they began to collect water…slowly…too slowly. The openings at the top were too small. Dayana stared at the barrels, the rain pounding down around her. There had to be a better way!
Dayana stepped back inside away from the storm and shook the water from her rain poncho. She looked down at the pool of water at her feet, a grin spread across her face as she quickly sped back to her cabin for a few supplies. Dayana's father had always admired his daughter's ingenuity and he would be proud of her now. Soon both barrels were steadily filling with water collected by the outstretched ponchos strung above them. The water funneled down perfectly through the hood and flowed into the barrel.
Dayana knew it would take many tiring trips to haul the water down to the horses, but at least now she felt secure that they would have enough fresh water just as long as it kept raining. For the first time on the trip, Dayana prayed for more rain.
After the chaos of the first week on board the small freighter, things began to settle into a fairly steady rhythm.
Though exhausted each night from caring for both her mother and the horses, Dayana felt fairly energized each morning from a certain feeling of newfound independence. Though reluctant at first to tell her mother about the problem with the feed and water, Dayana described the situation and her solution. Kalyn was amazed at her daughter's creativity. They spent their lunch discussing possible solutions to the mouse problem, and proper rationing of the grain. Together they worked out a good plan to see them through the end of the journey.
Dayana had hoped her mother was on the mend, but with a new round of heavy seas hitting the ship that evening, Kalyn was back in her bed. Dayana settled her mother as best she could and went down to the hold to check the horses one last time.
Before she reached the landing, she could hear Aziz's call of alarm. Poor lighting in the hold made it difficult to see. Dayana navigated the maze of cargo mostly by memory. Finally she had the stalls in sight, and it confirmed her worst fears. Khadijah was in distress.
Dayana quietly slipped into Khadijah's stall. The mare was down on her side, covered in sweat, and breathing heavily. When Dayana reached for her halter, Khadijah hefted herself to her feet and restlessly paced.
"Easy girl. Easy," she soothed.
Dayana's mind raced. She knew the signs of a mare about to foal, and there was no question, Khadijah was going to foal this night.
Dayana quickly calculated the days in her head. Khadijah was early. The foal would be born premature, only 310 days in her mother's womb. The stress from the voyage had weighed heavily on the little mare. A pang of guilt ran through Dayana. This was all her fault. If the foal died, it would be her doing.
"I wish you could have waited a bit longer, Khadijah," she said. Dayana leaned into the little mare and whispered over and over, "I'm sorry Khadijah. I'm so sorry…so sorry."
Khadijah groaned and nudged Dayana with her nose reminding her that they were in this together.
"You're right, Khadijah," she said as she wiped her eyes. "No time for crying right now. Besides, you may be small, but I know how strong you are. We can do this together."
Dayana took control of her emotions and focused on the little mare. She considered going for help, but who was there to help? Her mother could barely sit up in bed, and even if she could wake her enough to ask a question, the trek back to the cabin would take too long. Khadijah needed her here.
Perhaps someone in the crew? Dayana dismissed that idea. The ship's crew was sparse and hard to find. And the first mate made it clear the horses were none of his concern. Besides, what would any of them know about birthing a foal? She was alone and she would just have to handle this as best she could.
Through the night as the ship rolled and creaked, Dayana stood vigil. Khadijah paced, occasionally looking back at her flanks. She lay down on her side, then restlessly stood again. During the brief respites between contractions, Khadijah dropped her head low, exhaustion rapidly taking hold. Dayana prayed the little mare had the strength to see this through. Both Aziz and Barika looked on, tension quivering in their noses and ears.
Khadijah lay down again, her straining increased. A spurt of liquid signaled the bursting of the birth sack that protected the foal in the womb. Dayana knew it was time. The foal must come out soon, or it would die. The ship rolled and pitched and in alarm Khadijah began to rise. This time Dayana took hold of the halter and held her down, stroking her neck and whispering calming words.
"Easy, Khadijah. Easy, your baby is coming. Lie still. You're almost there."
Khadijah responded to Dayana's gentle handling and focused on giving birth to her foal. Dayana moved so she could see the birth canal. To her surprise and delight two forefeet appeared. Dayana nearly cheered. She knew this was a good sign. Foals born breech, their rear ends first, often had trouble making it down the birth canal.
Khadijah gave a mighty groan as the foal's nose and then head peeked out. The foal's face was covered in the birth sack. Dayana pulled it free, clearing the way for the foal to breath.
"Come on little baby," she cried.
Several more pushes and the foal was free. Dayana's eyes were filled with tears of joy as Khadijah nickered to her newborn daughter, welcoming her into the world. She gallantly tried to rise, but finally lay quietly, too exhausted to move.
Dayana watched the small, dark shape lying in the straw. It was the smallest foal she had ever seen, and in the dim light showed no signs of movement. Dayana's heart dropped. What would she do if the foal was dead? Slowly she crept closer, afraid of upsetting Khadijah. She watched the foal intensely for any signs of life. Finally Dayana could detect the shallow rise and fall of the little foal's breathing, and finally a slight twitch of a floppy ear.
Dayana breathed a sigh of relief. At least the foal was breathing on its own. Dayana had never seen or cared for a premature foal before. Her father had taught her the best thing to do with normal births was to let the foal and mother come together in their own time. Eventually the foal would rise and begin to search for its first meal. The mother's milk contained colostrum, a nutrient that protected the foal from disease, and it was important that the foal feed well during this first 24 hour period.
Dayana slipped from the stall and curled up in a blanket to watch over mother and foal. It may take several hours, but if the foal was strong enough she would soon stand and hunt for her first meal.
Khadijah finally recovered enough to gain her feet. She nuzzled her newborn daughter encouraging her to stand. The attentions seemed to stimulate the foal, and finally she attempted to rise.
Dayana had watched the comical first steps of newborn foals before. Like drunken sailors on rough seas they gather their spindly legs beneath them and rise, only to collapse in a heap as if the earth had moved beneath them. Miraculously they rapidly gain coordination and are able to take those first few shaky steps and find their mother's side in a few short hours after birth.
Unlike the other foals she had seen, when this little one attempted to stand something was not right. The tendons in her legs seemed soft, and she could not get her feet beneath her. Courageously she tried again and again to rise until finally in exhaustion she lay in the straw.
Dayana became more and more distressed. The foal's legs must not be developed enough to carry her weight. The foal had to nurse or it would die. Dayana looked sadly at the little creature who seemed to be all legs, ears, and beautiful dark eyes. They were the eyes of the Al Khamsa mares. And even though the foal was only a few hours old, she could already see the fire and the strength of her breeding.
Dayana decided then she must try to help. Khadijah had fought bravely to bring the newborn into the world. She knew the little foal would try to rise until the last ounce of her strength was gone. Dayana could do nothing less than match their efforts. Perhaps with her help, the foal would live. It would take an enormous effort. She would need to help the foal nurse every couple of hours around the clock until she had the strength to stand on her own.
Determined not to fail them, Dayana pulled the blanket from around her shoulders and fashioned a makeshift sling to help her bring the foal to its feet.
"Easy, little girl," she whispered as she approached the foal. Khadijah looked on with concerned eyes. "I'm not going to hurt your daughter, Khadijah. I'm just helping her to stand so she can nurse.
Sliding the sling around the foal's girth and placing her arm around the foal's neck, Dayana strained to lift her to her feet. The foal responded immediately, scrambling to stand.
"Whoa, there," Dayana said as the foal's enthusiasm nearly sent them both toppling over.
Dayana finally regained her balance and slowly moved the foal to her mother's side. Khadijah snuffled them both, her ears twitching in uncertainty. For what felt like an eternity, the foal searched unsuccessfully for her mother's teat.
"Keep looking little baby," she encouraged. "Breakfast is waiting!" Finally, the foal tasted her first meal, her little tail twitching in excitement.
Seeing the foal suckling at her mother's side, Dayana felt a pang of sadness. She missed her father terribly. But as she stood with mother and foal in the near darkness, her thoughts drifting to the past, that sadness was replaced with pride. If it hadn't been for her father's gentle teaching, Dayana wouldn't have known what to do, or even had the courage to try.
With her hunger satisfied, the newborn gave a mighty sigh and her weight in the sling grew heavier. Dayana gently lowered the foal to the ground and soon she was contentedly napping.
"It's been a long night," she yawned. "Maybe I can get a little sleep too."
Dayana looked up as soft light streamed in through a high porthole in the hull. The storm had broken and she could see a glimpse of the full moon. The light glinted off the foal's dark brown coat. Dayana hoped one day she would be a silvery grey, or even nearly white like her mother. A small tuft of white hair in the shape of a crescent marked her delicate forehead. Dayana knew at that moment what the name of the little foal would be.
"Your name will be Shahar, which means 'by the moon'," she whispered. As if responding to her name, Shahar briefly opened her beautiful, dark eyes.
"Welcome to our family Shahar."
