Pacing.. a lot of pacing. The small cove of trees that the grown child liked to call home had recently been renovated and now was adorned with a small, awkward oval that followed three staggered trees within a ten yard radius. Restless nights plagued her body with aches and weakness, but still the girl rose every morning to continue her pacing and worrying. "Maybe it was actually supposed to happen? Maybe it will calm her down? Maybe she'll want it once it's born. Maybe, maybe.. maybe..." She chattered in her mind for hours on end, whether or not the subject was focused on her impregnated sister. A lack of apatite wracked her body as well, but thankfully she chose a spot to rest not far from the small hidden pond along the boundaries of the Falls. On a particular day she drank quietly, staring back at the reflection below in the quivering waters. "Why am I not good enough for a child?" she asked herself, heart throbbing at the potentially horrifying childhood of her soon-to-be nephew or niece.

      She has to protect them, no matter what Arvakl might do. But..... how? She is not strong or smart, nor is so healthy enough to raise a child when she can barely manage herself. A dull pain invaded her chest and her throat as she realized that she may have to be strong for not herself, but someone else.

      Before the sun lights the sky like a torch in a dank cave, the brutt begins making her way out of the Hidden Falls, determine to climb the very same mountain where she had last seen her sibling. The idea of Arvakl's return to the Heavenly Fields was far fetched - in her mind - and almost ridiculous, but the broken doll moved on still, hoping that she would know her own sister's habit well enough. Before she is able to pass the land boarders, cyan eyes meet their reflection in dark waters. A small, weak woman stares back, dished face appearing distorted and disgusting in the small ripples.

      The hillside was difficult to trek in the awakening morning, but somehow the growth-stunned fae finds her small feet below her well enough to not trip and fall to her death. Time after time her nerves would gather and cause shivers to run down her spine and nearly flood her eyes with tears. "What am I doing?" The words crack in her throat, the first time the world hears her voice today and it is just as pitiful and weak as always. "I'm not strong enough." Discouragement fogs her mind, thoughts of turning back and hiding in her own hair sounding more comforting by the second.

      After much debating, her ears are finally able to catch the miserable screams and cries. The noises nearly made the doll's heart stop in her chest, jaw dropping to gasp just as another gut-twisting scream cascades over the hill side. Thin legs rush her body up the hill, tripping and scraping and bleeding all the way up. The glorious valley finally reveals itself, the sleepy sun casting a beautiful yellow sheen across the luscious vegetation. First, her bright eyes land on a pegasus who stands over a heap of a body in the tall grass. From this distance, she cannot attach the form to a face or name, but she is certain now that the wailing is coming from the body that he is perched over.

      "It has to be her!" Her joints creak and complain while the broken one canters toward the couple who are colored black by the rising sun. Upon her arrival to the crowd, the sweaty, uncomfortable air sinks into her nostrils and slides down her throat. Nostrils pinch against the scent, but now she can see that the man is one who she knows, Bucephalus, and by something short of a miracle, the mare in labor is Arvakl. "I need to see it!" she wails, a tone that the brutt had not heard come from her sister since they were foals begging for just a little more play time.

      She had come from behind Bucephalus, her eyes wide with a concoction of panic, fear and wonder. As she could imagine, there was a foal curled up behind her sister, but the amount of blood and filth made the uneducated woman's stomach lurch in her body. Her legs shuffled uncomfortably, bringing her to finally stand - all while shifting in place - out of harm's way, but diagonal with the bedded hybrid.

"Speech"
I have no idea where that all came from.. Also feel free to skip me if I lag behind to much and am dragging things out!
@[Bucephalus]

      She's not sure whether to be shocked or impressed, or maybe a little of both, as her older sibling's eyes light up at the sight of her filthy child. Afterbirth hangs from his little body, still making the bony woman nauseous enough for her head to feel slightly dizzy. Bucephalus pays little attention to the pale, scarred sister, but with good reason as all eyes are focused on the antlered boy in the grass. His little face raises from the ground - having been pushed and pulled around within he first thirty seconds of his life one can only imagine that he is a little put-off by the idea of life right now - and the tiniest nicker comes from his lanky body and makes tears swell in young Adelis' eyes. "Hush Breccan, this is your father." He tosses his tiny antlers.

      For the second time in her life, tears of joy spill from bright eyes, the salty liquid following the ridged lines of her scooped face and dripping down her cheeks. Love swells in the brutt's breast, a smile painted happily along her darkened lips. It all seems perfect.. until of course Arvakl notices her presence. "You!" she screams, the adoration on her face melting like ice above an open flame. A small jaw tightens and the rag doll scoots backward with uneasy steps, her baby-blue fringed tail tucking between dark legs as she moves. Before Arvakl can rise and charge at Adelis, she wails again and collapses back to the ground, her body moving in the most unpleasant ways.

      The smells and sounds are overwhelming to the naive girl who watches with a painful cringe. Bucephalus watches over the pair who are both lying in the fresh Birdsong grass, seeming no more nervous in her eyes about the birth of his twins than a stranger would. Impatiently, Adelis chews on the inside of her cheek, dulled teeth only making the spot sore as she gnaws. Finally another body slides out from her sister, the ecstatic aunt prancing forward to view the second born with her own wet eyes. "She's got your hair Arvakl!" But, is "she" in fact a she, or was this poor boy cursed with the most feminine mane in the world?

      Wide eyes looked to their father - whom Adelis still hadn't connected as so - hoping for assistance in finding out whether or not she was right. After three years of growing up with Ark, the brutt knew better than to push her limits by touching something so precious that belonged to Arvakl.

"Speech"
@[Bucephalus]