His voice is a force which shudders through her, like thunder rolling over a ridge. It was so surprising that it startled her into quiet, ears faltering backwards as his eyes pinned her to the spot. Instantly she withered under him. Her wings tightened at her sides, as thin as she could manage them. It was not that Gaucho boomed any greater than normal, it was that it had been at her. In all her memories of them, he had always let her high intensity of speech roll over him, unaffected the way a great stone sits in the sea unchanged for years.

This day though, the stone slapped the sea.

The force of his retaliation was in and of itself, grounding. Ampere slunk even further into herself, tail pressed tight against the frame of her rump. One ear and one eye kept on Gaucho, but otherwise she averted her focus to her child, his squeal demanding it. His hungry wobbling wasn't overlooked, but she wasn't well versed in... exposing her nipples. If given a less demanding encounter, they could have bonded together, each so new and confused by the other. Now however, Gaucho pulled at her attention, splitting it from her son.

Their son.
Maybe.

Though her gaze had already averted from the fire blazing beside her, at his question they purposefully darted away, glancing anywhere but at the living beings which had collected. As the silence stretched on Ampere even physically turned to the side. Although it made her body more exposed than her rear-view she'd been previously offering him, it better shielded the child, her flanks rippling above him, both a safe haven and a sanctuary of milk if he'd take it. Her neck drooped low though, intentionally craned to the side that Gaucho didn't stand on. Like a bad dream, she only needed to pretend he wasn't here, right?

"Is it?"

His words pierced her like a blade; still hot from the flames of creation on his tongue. Ampere quivered, the wound growing each moment she didn't respond, but she was choking on it too. Manically her mind whirled, contemplating a thousand different answers, all of which might have been better than the one she chose. "I don't know," she said honestly, quietly. It was the sound of trust shattering, the sound of love splintering, the sound of loss - for her, for him, for the boy.