The last time Einarr clocked the cycle of the sun, the moon, and the way someone's sides swelled it was a completely different event. His daughter, Mordecai, had been born outside of these lands to an outcast mare that Einarr had danced with only once. He remembered flying hard when he knew it was time for her to enter the world, and he remembered how his heart hammered against his chest when he watched Histe rip at Mordecai's wing. It was the first time Einarr had seen a woman act with hostility towards a strong, beautiful child. In his home, birth was a blessing--and a birth from someone as esteemed as a warrior as he was was an even greater blessing. Histe had not agreed to that ideal, and Einarr had to end her life because of it. But, the inky stallion knew today would not be like that day. Today's birth would be celebrated with words of praise and feast! The Sultana, a proven mother and warrior, was giving birth today!

The black warrior had stayed near Megaera as she roamed restlessly, and his darkened hide was the target to many of her bites when he got too close. He understood, however. Einarr's home tribe was continually birthing in the warmest of seasons, bringing new and strong warriors into the world. The warden knew how mothers could, and would, attack even fathers that meant only to dote on their pregnant mates. It was their instinct to protect, and even the most generous and warm-hearted of all acts could be seen as treasonous from the eyes of an overprotective, extremely hormonal woman on the edge of birth and on the last thread of patience. And so, after receiving an especially harsh bite to his withers, Einarr was not as reluctant to go on his patrol as he had been the past few days.

But when he returned home to the desert sands, his heart raced and pounded against his chest with panic. Megaera was not in the place she had been when he left, and so he searched hard for her. Finally, when he heard her voice and the overwhelming scents hit him, the twins already lay nestled at her side. The massive man stopped some yards away, body dissolving into a kindled ember of love. Two foals lay with the woman he called his own, twins born of strength and fire. They were beautiful, strong, and healthy--even as Einarr stood with black tar staining his face. "Megaera..." He whispered, eyes widening with a sudden surge of fright as he watched her head hit the ground.

NO!

Einarr surged forward, but there was already a swarm of others. The emotions that clouded his head and the disease made everything fuzzy, and as the bright sight of fire moved past his left, Einarr quickly stumbled backwards. He was being punished. He thought darkly, punished for killing Mordecai's birth mother. Now the twins' birth mother must die as well. Einarr's head swam with the thoughts, running through his head like a trainwreck in his native language.

The stallion stood quite some time in the distance, eyes shut tightly and breathing heavy, waiting for the end to come. But it did not, and he hesitantly opened a reddened eye as Gaucho spoke, his black hair wet with the sweat of panic hot on his heart. He let his eyes flicker to the other healers around him. As his heart settled, Einarr felt a mixture of thankfulness and anger come over him. He was thankful that these desert children stepped in to help their Sultana -- but he was angered and wanted them to leave his mate and his children now. He kept his tongue silent on the matter, however, for he knew not even he could touch his children right now, for he would surely infect them with the disease he had.