The warrior pair waited in silence. When the black tuned back to meet her gaze, the bay would give him a solemn nod of encouragement. The gods would come. The gods must come. In the aftermath of the Goddesses fall, Megaera had certainly resigned herself to the fact that Helovian Gods were neither infallible nor wholly benevolent. Powerful beings, yes, but she took their divinity with a grain of salt. At least two of the three brother would come and intercede. The Sun’s pride would not let one of his flock perish needlessly, no more that the Earth’s mercy. They had to help; if a helpless filly was beneath their notice then the battlemare was not sure that they deserved any devotion at all.

Earth it shall be, then. she thought as the ground beneath her rumbled. The rustic god rose from the rock with all the pomp and circumstance Meg had come to expect, thought she was partial to the fire and light that heralded his bright brother’s coming. She bowed, as Einarr did and righted herself quickly to watch the scene. The Earth God spoke but the mare’s focus shifted to the stallion. He was a mystery to Meg, and she was not one who liked being left in the dark. He had confused her when they first met, all confidence and cockiness, but had devoted himself as much to the protection of the Throat as she had. He fought savagely and skillfully, a trained killing machine, but had touched the tiny filly gently and had spoken to her with tenderness. Meg had found no hard reason to dislike him, but had still not fallen into the comfortable comradery that came so easily with the rest of the herd.

The proclamation of the god nearly passed without her notice as she contemplated the stag she had brought here. ’….your surrogate mother…” Surrogate mother. Mother. Mother. This one with you, mother….. The echo of words set of a blaring alarm in Megaera’s head and her gaze jerked up to the tribred beast, a mask of shock. She did not have time to consider time to think, but a sharp objection blared from her. “NO! I CAN’T…” but her protest was cut short as the breath and the magic washed over her. Her body seemed to stretch and retract all at once as the very chemical foundation was shifted, forced out of its natural order. Hormones churned and left her dizzy in an instant and the mare let out a stunned gasp.

When she looked up again at the God, he only smiled and thanked her. It was the phrasing of his words the stoked her surprise and cast her heart into and inferno of conflicting emotions. Hit the bastard! Go to the child! Care! Provide! Run! Cry! Fight! her instincts all fought for dominance: what she had been trained in, what she had chosen, what had just been shoved upon her, none of them felt more real than any other and she was momentarily frozen. Over the rushing in her ears, Einarr’s voice reminded her that he was here, that he had started this, asked for this, done this to her and she rounded to face him. Some part of her minds had latched onto outrage, to anger, because that was what she knew best. Her vision was met with a mass of black and the image of the stallion’s tiny daughter flashed before her. Tiny and helpless and perfect, and she needed Meg for it was Meg that had been chosen, and something in the mare knew there was no changing fate now. She pivoted, taking the rocky slope at a canter and launched into the sky without a word and headed back to the Throat. Back to Mordecai.