He cannot help his small grin at her sarcastically humorous response to his vexed remarks. A gentle sigh escapes him (his broken rib is not entirely set), for he knew his ire was ill-placed. Nyx did not force him into their foreplay of a spar, nor did she slip beneath his barrel without his consent. He had willing (enthusiastically, even) enjoyed his time in the glen with her.

He continues to watch the ‘little shits’ play, grin growing as she describes them as such. Though his crooked smile fades as she mentions the pains of childbirth; the massive amount of blood that had been surrounding the warrior flashing through his mind. The reminder of her brush with death (though but a mere stroke, for Evangeline had been there promptly to heal the electric mare) subdued his irritation further. “I am glad that you are okay, Nyx. That was a hell of a lot of blood,” he rumbled gruffly as he gently bumped his massive shoulder against her muscular one.

Despite the tangled mess life works its way into, the unyielding threat of death often untangled the pertinent parts rather promptly and easily. “…to apologize to you.” His attention shifts from the rambunctious duo to their dam as her rush of words reaches him. Thick, black-rimmed ears tilt towards her as he gazes sideways at the grey and onyx soldier. Again, her wit brings a small, lopsided smile to his lips and he finds himself nodding slightly at her fleeing the Isles battle, “I understand, Nyx. You needed to protect the lives inside you. I’m glad you left the battle.” She did not know the depth of truth behind his words— for the lives of foals were so incredibly precious to him.

As she started speaking of love and commitment, he turns his head away from her once more. Unseeingly he watches the foals experience life outside the womb. Enjoy it while you can, little ones. It is not all rainbows and butterflies for long— the hurricanes come soon enough. He still listens, though his ears are tipped back and his face melts to a blank mask. But, as ever, his expressive blue eyes become darker.

He shifts his weight, now standing firmly on all four hooves as tension makes his muscles grow beneath his buckskin coat. He remains quiet for a while after she finishes speaking, the slowly healing hide of his tiger-clawed shoulder twitching with itchiness. Thoughts of pregnancy, monogamy, his time with Nyx, the shattered face of Rexanna— they all saturate his weary mind. A long, tired breath slowly exhales from his nostrils, taking his rigidity with it. This mare— his friend?— was apologizing, and that amounted to a lot for the elephant.

“I appreciate the apology, but there’s no need for it. You were honest and straightforward with me, Nyx. And now I’ve tried your approach to romance (or lack of), and it’s not for my tender heart,” he derisively snorts the last few words as the large organ in question pounded against his painful ribs. His unseeing eyes follow the filly as she races her brother, “And, despite the mess it would have created, I would have been happy to have a foal— or foals— by you.” He rests a hindlimb as he realizes this.

Though, on the heels of the realization is relief. Relief that the foals were the trespassing stallions (‘Deodat’ had she called him?) and not his. Though things were damaged between him and Rexanna, a foal with Nyx would have made them irreparable. Count your blessings, however they come.

TEMBOVU

Beware the weight of a vengeful soul.