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Henrietta was absent, Caleb lingering by the sentinels alone. The hound had enough of these night patrols Caleb had been continuously participating in, so she stayed behind to sleep like most animals do during the frigid night. Caleb, however is not like most. He is wide awake, running on a strange mixture of happiness and sadness, all while maintaining this vivid coldness. His eyes scanned the surroundings constantly, watching for intruders that may attempt attacks at night. Most of the fuel for his patrolling steamed from his desire to make a name for himself within the group of mountain unicorns, but slight of the fuel was not being able to sleep due to the haunting of his more recent actions. 

He had been horrible and done horrible things. He had fucked half of the Aurora Basin, while actively pursuing the other half. A huge part of him wanted to find one mare in particular, one mare that lingered on his mind. He could so easily imagine her then, her light locks trailing her, brow carrying proud antlers, lashes decorating (once) innocent eyes. Then he imagines her belly, remembering the unmistakable swell of her sides when everyone had been fighting the bear god. He had thought she had gained weight due to all the food and snacks that returned with Birdsong, but could he have been wrong? Caleb knew it was a possibility she was pregnant, carrying his foals. That idea alone petrified, but warmed his coldness slightly. Children, a family, he wanted it. He wanted many children, a large, loving, family. Could he achieve the white-picket-fence despite this barrier of coldness her held up?

His jaw opened, dropping a large brown bag on the floor. His snout followed it to the ground, searching for one item in particular. When he felt the cool sides of the pink sapphire touch his sensitive snout, a lazy grin spread on his maw. Ears prick forward as his head retreats from the bag to it's natural position just as a certain scent is caught by his nose. She's here.

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Caleb had been completely prepared to be romantic and kind when he found his little spitfire, but she found him- aggressively with her slight frame. She threw herself at him, and not in a sexual way. As her hide hit his, all it caused was a slight side-step to recatch his balance, but nothing further. It was flesh versus flesh, and Caleb won. A sly smile spread on his lips. She wanted to fight? He could dish it out as easily as he could allow it. "Do you wish to fight, Enna?" His smirk had faded, replaced with a iron seriousness. "I don't." He concluded plainly, gaze shifting away away. He knows there are things they need to talk about, but he cannot stay forever. He shifts so his stands head-to-head with her. He moves towards her hesitantly, noting the sudden change in her flanks from fat to thin. His brow creased, furrowing downwards. What the hell happened?

What had previously been a mischievous confusion, turned quickly into worry. Had she given birth, was there a foal? He became plagued with worry, eyes very much fixed on her sides, searching for answers, anything. Was Enna okay?

There were gaps in this story he couldn't fill by himself, the most important being if she was pregnant before or not. Where was the foal? Was she only mad about him ducking out after fucking her?

There was too much confusion for the stoic beast.

Then he surged forwards, snout searching to touch her barrel which had been so large hardly a week ago. He wasn't sure if he was trying to comfort her or himself, but he wanted contact, to know she was real and here with him something to ground him. He needed her to ground him, keep him from floating away. "Are you okay?" He murmured, worry etched in his words. After a few moments, he spoke again. "Enna... I'm so sorry."

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Caleb had left Enna with a bitter aftertaste, an inevitable sourness that crossed her tongue once he was gone, leaving her wondering why she had ever taken a sip in the beginning. He made a mental note: Touch her mind, not her body.. Make her smile, not cry. The lesson was learned and now Caleb tried to amend everything, glue the shattered pieces of their relationship back together. He listened to her words as she recoiled away from him. He knows he has royally fucked up, but he cannot change the past. The beast stays quiet, listening to her honest words.

"No, Enna... I know 'sorry' won't make things better, but you need to know why I did-" His voice is cut off by hers. A soft murmur is all she offers, but he hears it, hears the pain and struggle and emotion in her hushed words. He feels his shell shattering, cracking, falling. He had a child... And she looked like him. He shuts up, mouth sealed tightly shut. He was a father.

Or had been.

"Where is she..?" He asks softly, voice delicate. For the first time in Helovia, Caleb sounds breakable. Or is he already broken, shattered into millions of glassy pieces? He wanted know where she was buried, to look upon her grave with a father's mourning sadness. Was it strange to love someone he never knew, to mourn a stranger's death? "This is my fault..." He muttered quietly. "Hybrids are somewhat infertile." He blamed himself, his genetics, his makeup, everything. He should've let the King in his previous home kill him. Then no one would feel the pain he caused, know his cold exterior. They would've never his name, nor his coat. He would've never happened. It should've been like that. 

"I'm so sorry..." He repeated, whispered it.

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“Why you did what.” "WHY I FUCKING RAN AWAY." He says slightly louder than his whispers, not angry, just louder. "I didn't want to..." Then everything is hushed whispers and tears as she explains what happened to their daughter. She was buried under a tree, her grave lying in the cool shade, watching the Birdsong sky wear it's bright blue cloak.

She doesn't allow Caleb to take the blame, putting it all on herself. "Enna, stop. It's not your fault... it's none of ours." He concluded then, sternly. His breaking mask had been settled back into place,, glued together. Despite his mind screaming with turmoil, he remains stoic and impassive, the overflow of emotions possibly causing a sort of short-circuit within him.

Her eyes meet his as she apologizes. Hers brim with tears, his are aflame with emotions, their sad silver color so out of place on his indifferent features. Marble face presses forwards, reaching for Enna's left shoulder, to comfort the slight mare. He murmurs something incoherent, something that was most likely along the lines of we will get through this.

After a short pause, the beast inhales her scent deeply, exhaling in the form of a dejected sigh. "I want to go to her." He feels Henrietta waking up, he feels his emotions pour through their connection towards her, updating her on all of this shit. His loyal hound begins sprinting, desperate to catch up with Caleb and Enna who linger on the borders. She had been rather close, and when her silver eyes see them, her heart breaks for them slightly. Caleb and Enna, two horses searching for warmth in the coldest place of Helovia. She joins Caleb's side, her expression sad.

He backs away from her, turning to move out from the Northern Territories and towards Thistle, walking extra slowly for Enna, who's tears he tries to wipe away with his snout as they continue on. Don't cry, it'll be okay, he chides her every time he reaches for the tears, to wipe away her sadness.

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After they walked to the grave, a long silent walk, it became clear something had not only broken between them, but also glued them close. It was comparable how he felt, the nerves wracking through his body, knowing he was going to fuck this up more, knowing that with the wrong string of words, all his meticulously built facade and reveal the ugly, venomous, truth. He cringed at the thought of his naked emotions, all that he hid from the world, from everyone's critical eyes. Then she spoke, her angelic voice dragging him back to the present, grounding him.

She says a lot, and none of it is unheard, but he holds onto one specific sentence the most, holding onto it with a death-like grip. I named her Quinn. Caleb held those words, wishing they still held value. She is still Quinn, in every essence. She couldn't not be. The hybrid could not believe she was dead, part of him already longing for her back, a lifeless stranger. As the man looked on his laying counterpart, the hard creases of a constant scowl vanished and he looked like a colt old again, vulnerable to the world and it's cruelties, yet so naive. Caleb didn't know the world could fuck him over like this, rip his cold heart out of it's place, inject an iron sadness into his skeleton.

He couldn't speak, words lost to him completely. He looked upon Quinn's grade, all traces of youth lost once again. He looked ancient, tired and withdrawn. Then his lips and tongue form words, strange words, ones that are not of comfort nor cruelty, but air on the side of mandating Enna's graduation from Caleb. "I'm not the perfect other half for you, nor am I even an adequate counterpart." It's a murmur, a sickening quietness that steadily hovers over his words. "Enna, I'm not really an emotional horse, I don't feel like you do." The vague wording would no doubt lead to some confusion, perhaps curiosity, but he couldn't have said it better. "I'm upset she couldn't laugh for the first time, nor cry, love, lose, grow, do anything, but I don't feel the attachment you do." He shook his head, disappointed in himself. "I can't love, Enna, I never will be able to." Enna had loved this foal, but Caleb? He was just sad he didn't have a live child, but his heart did not break like hers does, nor does he weep as she does. So awkwardly, he stood, a statue, void of emotions and expression. Even his normally intense eyes carry a dull nothingness, the sort of thing psychopaths emerge from. Though it is certain, Caleb is no psychopath. And these cold eyes, they bore into Quinn's grave, look anywhere but Enna. Then, his entire body is screaming a desperate I'm sorry through that stone awkwardness.