A familiar fire washed over Archibald and caused his heart to skip a beat, the worry filling the crevices of his heart and mind. It was time. He needed to return to the Island, to his mare, to Circe, his perfect, forgiving, strong mate. Hooves and paws alike beat the earth ferociously, blood pounding to deafen their ears. Panic began to flood Archibald's galloping frame, transferring down well to Loretta. The feeling was familiar, he had felt it on the day of premature snow, running through the forest of his Windtossed Foothills...only to find his nightmare, played out in flesh. No. Loretta snapped, pushing faster at Archibald's side. The stallion was already drenched in sweat, heart slamming against his chest, damn near rippings straight through his flesh to fall to the ground in a bloodied heap. A grimace ripped across Archibald's face, determined to be there in time. To be there to support Circe, to help her mind and ease her pain, as he had attempted to do at the birth of their sons.

But, alas, the Dauntless and his bitch were too late.

The pair stopped, as if they had hit a brick wall. Loretta, in a red and white clump, collapsed to her side, panting furiously, unable to fully catch her breath. Archibald stood stark still, unable to breath at all. The world came crashing in around him, the terrain spinning and the sky opening up to a swirling whirlwind of stars. He felt weezy, weak, ready to topple over and succumb to death. Reality shot Archibald in the chest, a shell dropping in the distance and leaving an echoing thwap as it hit the ground. Archibald went to step forward, but stumbled, barely able to catch himself, his magic slipping forth uncontrollable and setting the earth to tremble lightly in his presence. The behemoth groaned, a loud, baritone cry of anguish and despair and defeat.

This was torture.

He stumbled forward again, standing at the head of his once-mate. Golden eyes, throbbing with all the pain his body and mind felt, stared down at the lifeless cerulean he had loved too deeply. He wanted to turn his head and vomit, to escape this place.

This is a dream. This is not happening. By gods--Cir--no--she--NO!

White hot tears bristled at the rims of his eyelids, spilling over to coat coal cheeks with no warning and no inhibition. For the first time in his entire life, the Dauntless cried. His body trembled, shaking violently as sob racked his form. Even as his body shook and he tangled himself around his firstborn the stallion did not cry, but even the depths he had felt on that day, in the drizzling snow, did not compare to the overwhelming agony that ripped through his very being right here, right now, standing over the blue-grey body of his mare. Loretta, crushed and completely ripped apart by the intensity of emotions of the situation, merely lay still where she had fallen, sobbing into the dirt. However, she pushed herself up, willing herself to go be with Archibald, to stand with him, give him strength, something.

Loretta approached, slowly, head low with tears stinging the amber, and she stopped. The cries of the child made the bitch focus her eyes, lift her head, and begin to yip wildly. ARCHIBALD! THE CHILD!! AND REGINALD!

In an instant, the world became a vaccuum and Archibald was its center. Snapping his massive head to attention, molten gold eyes focused on the child. His child. Their child. Oh, Circe... And guiding her, was his hellion son, the eldest boy, Reginald.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Dauntless gasped for his breath. "Macaria," He spoke her name--voice stable, steady, strong, despite the shaking of his body and the lump in his throat. Shaking limbs close the distance between him and his daughter, and slowly, the shaking dissolves into nothing.

The filly has been born, and she is strong, and she needs him.

The agony still throbbed in his chest, but looking down at this perfect creature gave him steadiness. "Macaria, hush, shhh, Daddy is here..." Archibald's eyes flick to Reginald, daring the boy to move the child away from him. It was merely a flashing warning before the Dauntless centered his attention on the filly, leaning down to rub his nose down her mane and spine, a comforting massage.

Loretta, unable to concentrate on the joy of the perfect daughter, turns, circles, ready to defend the helpless doe and her massive father, and her amber eyes fall on Circe's fatal wound. Archibald, bite.