Where her child did not yet understand the importance of sleeping standing, she could not fault him. After all, he got it from her. Lakota was notorious for sleeping on her side, Aodaun sprawled warm against her back or beneath her head. Ktulu chided her endlessly for it, but she made up for it by instinctively sleeping on her hooves whenever Murtagh was sprawled out across the earth. Aodaun still slept with her, but more often she and Murtagh would sprawl on opposite sides of the polar bear, sharing him. It warmed her heart to see him so fondly attached to them, wondering how he would act with his own bear. And she was so proud of him, so deeply in love with him in every way that love could possibly manifest itself. Life had destroyed every good thing she'd encountered, but it had equaled out the moment her son had been born. He was everything good and pure in the world, and she guarded him jealously and violently. It was not that she was overly fearful for his physical safety - she knew foals were resilient, had seen wars and killed souls by his age. But she was terrified for his innocence, because she knew what this world was capable of. And maybe she had cursed him by bringing him into it, but he had saved her. He was her ticket to whatever good side of the afterlife awaited her. Her own personal angel. 

Even when he woke her up at ungodly fucking hours. 

Can we drug him back to sleep? she thought towards Aodaun, thoughts like sludge. Aodaun huffed, one lime eye popping open to peek at the screeching colt. No, the moon bitch blocked your magic. Lakota whined unhappily at the idea, trying her best to slip back into sleep. Maybe Murtagh would forget about her. Maybe she didn't have to get up and do mammina-things yet. She hadn't flipped the sign over to 'OPEN', she didn't deserve this. She'd killed people, but she surely didn't deserve this. Right? This was just cruel and unusual torture. Plain old torment. Why hadn't her father learned this particular method when he was ruling? He probably would have taken over the world, she grunted towards Aodaun. Mothers are the only ones aware of this evil weapon. The only reason it hasn't destroyed the world is clearly because we suffer too much to wish it on others. The bear chortled at her sourness, though Murtagh was likely more than used to her morning bitterness.

"It's snowing again!"

Oh, well that explained it. 

Lakota somewhat resented the obsession she'd nurtured in her son regarding the freezing substance, but his joy was what finally lifted her reluctantly to her hooves. She could never avoid his endearing enthusiasm for everything around him, the simplistic innocence of his desires. He was so pure-hearted that sometimes it kept her up at night, staring down at his sleep-soft face, wondering how he could have possibly come from her. How she had not tainted and broken him was beyond her, her faith in her mothering abilities shaky on those nights of doubt. But now was not the time for that, and Aodaun went toddling out into the snow to meet the colt, snuffling at the adorable impression Murtagh was doing of his exact noises. 

Lakota trailed behind him, smiling warm enough to melt the ice around them at her son's gleeful expression. "Well, it is your birthday," she noted, remembering how she'd kept track of the moon phases for this exact day. "Buon compleanno, bambino. Tanti auguri a te," she spoke the famous phrase and pressed a kiss between his ears as she always did, feeling her heart swell with uncontrollable love. But as she withdrew her violet eyes - she would never be over how his eyes reflected hers, how she looked down upon him and saw herself staring ostensibly back - glittered with mischief. She tugged on his mane with her teeth and went bounding off into the snow, smiling cheekily over her shoulder as thin, graceful limbs kicked high and playful. "Gonna come get me?" A birthday game of tag seemed like the perfect start to the day. 

Lakota