It was a call he had been waiting for, a mixture of being eager and afraid. After all, it had taken him a while to come to terms with what Lotus had managed to do to him, and at first he had resented it - resented himself, and his blighted lack of control. But after that had passed (it had happened, no point denying it or throwing fits about it) the natural eagerness of fatherhood had overtaken him. Just has he'd been curious about seeing Snö for the first time, so was he curious about seeing this child - his child, his second child. What would this one look like? Colt or filly? Lotus was so round now, likely near her time, and Mauja stuck to the Edge like a tick, not wanting to miss out on greeting his child. Because let's face it, it was Mauja's child. Lotus might've had a lot to do with bringing it into the world, but he was the father. He wasn't going to deny that. He would make the child his own, just as much as it was Lotus'.

And the call came and he nearly flew ten feet into the air, breaking into a mad lope as he tracked the direction. White mane whipped around his face, and as he caught the scents - Lotus, flowers, child, afterbirth - there was another one there, too. Coris. Leather. Fresh death. For a moment, his mind spun away into darkness, the worst possible thing ever crashing into his thoughts, and it was with a look of pure murder on his face that he saw them first.

And slammed on the brakes.

Nothing was wrong. Coris was waving around a lynx pelt, Lotus was standing there, the sweet scent of her flowers unable to press past the stress of his mind right now, and a dark foal nursing from her. White, like snow, was speckled across his back, a stamp that just screamed Mauja. The King blinked for a few moments, looking properly disheveled, and then let out a shaking snort. "Coris," he said, then switched his gaze to Lotus and the child. "Lotus." Slowly he drew closer, trying to calm the fierce pounding of his heart. The adrenaline was slowly leaving his system, eyes flitting to find the cat before back to the child. Close enough to touch, Mauja reached out his large white head, bumping his muzzle against one bony hip. Then, he looked up to Lotus. "Have you named him yet?" he asked, soft as snow and much too warm.