Huffing, the Dauntless came to a stop. Pushing himself away from Circe, the behemoth looked down at the ground with dark, clouded eyes. Exhaustion from their spar and following acts set in, and the coldness of the air bit hard at his sides as his warmth dwindled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Archibald looked towards Circe. He wanted to know what was going on inside of her head, he wanted her to know what was going on inside of his, but despite all of that, the general merely wanted to know what the fuck just happened.

"Circe..." He started, turning his dark shoulders square to face her. He had to clear his throat and refocus his thoughts, for they were scrambling around in his head like marbles dropped from a child's toy chest. "Did I hur--" He stopped again, wishing he could swallow the first half of the sentence. Of course you hurt you, you idiot! And she hurt you! Don't ask stupid questions. Archibald cursed himself, averting his gaze as his brows burrowed. The Dauntless was thoroughly confused, and most definitely out of his comfort zone. He had spoken with many a warrior after battles...but never ones he had slept with--for he had never touched a mare so intricately before this night. Blinking hard several times, Archibald looked Circe directly in her storm colored eyes. "Speak, Circe."

His voice was a mixture of command and plea, for he was drowning. He could feel the world collapse in around him and he felt, for the first time in his life, vulnerable. His dark tail began to flick gently behind him, displaying his discomfort in a mindless tick. What was she going to think? What was she going to do? She had wanted him, he knew, and he wanted her, she knew. But what was the future of this?

Children. Sex means foals, Archibald. Loretta slipped from the darkness behind him, sending him the message. Archibald physically ignored her, but his mind clashed with her's in a spark of fire. Loretta had seen the whole thing--though not with her eyes--but through the bond she held with the draft. He could not have controlled his thoughts, and she did not blame him, but she wished she had not seen it. Lowering her head, the red bitch dropped a small hare from her jaws and lay down in the cold grass. She watched Circe cooly, amber eyes unreadable. Snorting lightly, the malamute went into her meal.

[This takes place directly after their spar, as if it were the same thread.]