//------------------------------// // -II- First Steps, and First Rage // Story: I Never got to Say Goodbye // by Jazz //------------------------------// As I learned how to crawl my first steps, my mother and father were busy. They didn't take pictures. My grandmother did. My first words weren't "Mama" or "Daddy." No. "Oh, your so cute!" Snap! My grandmother would say. I'd get on my hooves and pose for the camera. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," my grandmother said as she set the camera down. "Autumn is taking her first steps!" A tall, green mare with a blonde mane stepped inside the large room I called my bedroom when I could talk regularly. The mare was my mother. I didn't see her much, since I was always with Grandmother. Grandmother cared for me. She always did. She baked my first birthday cake. I had grown up a bit, now that I was a year old. It was exciting for the whole.. "Oh, is that so? Good for...uhm... her? Mother, I have good news," Mother spoke to both of us. "I'm pregnant! Hopefully it's a colt this time," she paused to shoot me an evil look, the ice daggers slicing me open. "Gwammafa," I said. I was never allowed to say "Grandma" or "Grammy." Since I couldn't say "Grandmother" right, I said "Gwammafa" instead. Well, what do you expect from a one year old filly? "Yes, dear?" she replied. My mother remained in shock. "She said her first word? And it's Grandmother?" she said angrily. She looked at me as if I were the one to blame. She sliced me open even further with her ice dagger-eyes. My grandmother's red coat got even redder. Her green eyes twinkled. She used her hoof to take a blue strand of mane out of her face. "Yes," she chuckled, stroking my orange mane. I yawned and cuddled with her. She felt like a mother to me. She was- My grandmother.