As angry as you are at first, the warmth of this dark liquid world radiates through you, and you begin to feel comfortable and sleepy. You drift into an odd slumber, your own blood pulsing to the sound of the heartbeat. You have never felt so rested, so relaxed, so deeply content. It seems to go on forever, yet you don't mind, even though you are getting more and more cramped in the womb as you grow.
And then your wonderful, dark world shakes and quivers. The liquid drains away, and the womb starts to squeeze. Your forelegs slip into a narrow tube, and the womb presses the rest of you into it. No! You don't want to leave! But there is no choice. Something grabs your forehooves and pulls, and you slide out into brightness.
You gasp for air as new lungs start working for the first time, and blink as blurred, distorted shapes appear around you. You are being gently wiped down by what might be humans, and smells and sounds hit you for the first time.
You have to get up! A primal need to rise, to stand, overwhelms everything else. Struggling to coordinate weak, spindly legs, you push up and fall over. Then you try again, and this time, you rise wobbly to all fours. Another urge comes, the need to nurse. Hunger is in control now, and all thoughts are pushed aside as you find your mother's swollen teats and instincts take over.
It isn't until you stagger away with a full belly that you are really aware of your situation. You are a newborn foal of some kind. But what? You look at your mother and get a shock, and then twist suddenly to look around at your own hindquarters.