The question slid past her mane and into her pinned ears with such a quiet that the lack of sound rattled her until her teeth clacked. In response her feathers all lifted at once, the ones at the base of her tail fanning out like a family of knives, while her head snaked around to the side to regard the Wildfire with a cold, biting stare. Her gaze held him firm for several breaths, or lack thereof, before it was finally touched by his flames and warmed; the blue swimming to life beneath the melting of the ice. Her feathers settled rapidly back to normal, so tight they laid like dragon scales in their sleekness against her body. A dryness ran against her tongue, and she wondered if it too weren't caused by the moisture evaporated in Gaucho's presence.

Under his heat, under his regard, under his inquiry she burned and the sensation made her squirm inside. Because, why was he there? That initial desire to shout at Gaucho about how she couldn't account for every tiny thing the boy did (what did she know of what he did?), or how she could barely be expected to watch him all the time (when did she watch him?), and how he was old enough to know better (what had she taught him?). Well, that initial feeling subsided and then crawled away to die inside of her with the smothering of his flames, and most importantly, the truth to his words.

In the end, she was his mother, and it was her job to oversee the rearing of her child. Gaucho, the father (she hoped), could play a role in the life of a foal, but it was not the same sort of responsibility that a mother toted around. A father cast a shadow to guide and hoof steps to fill. A father ensured safety, not just of the child, not just of the mother, but of everything they needed and used. In those regards, Gaucho had risen to the occasion without complaint. What had she done? I stayed she thought miserably. Suddenly all those original fears of failing the boy resurfaced within her, striking a certain panic that made her realize just how selfishly she'd still managed to push her precious son away. Maybe she wasn't physically running any more (wouldn't Tandavi be proud), but she was no more present for her presence.

"I can't," she whispered then, hoping her tone would not betray the terror running rampant in her thoughts; bleeding into her veins. She licked her lips before continuing, as if the movement might bring comfort or confidence, or at least something to let those tight words slide out on. "I can't do this Gaucho!" It was not immediately apparent what this she was referring to. The parenting of her child? The little family gathering between son, mother, and Gaucho? Facing the truth of her own short comings?

Surely all of them, but what she meant was this, this: "The herd is a healthy size with willing minds and able bodies," she went on, stronger now, the rattle of emotion having left her with that exasperated outcry. Embarrassed at her inabilities Ampere had since turned her gaze away, unable to see the disappointment she'd find on Gaucho's facade, unwilling to face her own reflected in the gleam of his eyes.
her nostrils flared with a sigh. "I'm running around doing two ranks, and expected to raise a son in-between it all. I just can't, I am only one horse." Her secret organization was another ingredient to the mix, but somehow she wasn't willing to complain about that; more self serving greed.

Perhaps some mares were capable of doing their normal herd tasks and raising children. Maybe Sohalia had been, but Ampere was not a mother by instinct, seen well enough by how lax she tended her son. Certainly they had their tended moments, her times of careful teaching, but she often acted as if he were a friend more than her child - had that attitude been what caused his premature ease with battle, or had her failure to pay attention been the cause? She was also certain though, that few horses carried as many titles as she did, plus a secret organization.

Ampere loved her work. The constant drive to fulfill duties, to sweat and toil and see something grow because of it, she had just never figured out how to put that same work ethic into relationships. Fulfilling tasks was one thing, but nurturing another horse and the ties that joined them was quite another. Gaucho somehow seemed to excel at both, a point that made Ampere feel no better about her inabilities in this moment. He was Sultan and then some, after all he dealt with her on a daily basis.

His question turned her back towards him, reluctant as she was. Though, as her head moved, her eyes seemed to remain distant, unseeing him until finally she gave another hard sigh. This was not easy; it never was with her.
With the last return of her attention upon him, the blue of her eyes flicking up towards his strong, storm-steel ones, she was prepared to answer him. What she did not expect was the uncertainty that his features mirrored. She would have heard it if she'd been of the mind, but that still might not have fortified her for the remnants of doubt in Gaucho. Her breath hitched, sure she'd utterly and completely failed him now too. She went to speak, but couldn't, her breath taken in by his gaze.

He made her weak again, but this time not with the warm throes of undeniable desire. No, this was more like disappointment and fear, and though she had always been small, Ampere finally felt it.

Her wings shifted back and forth across her back, flicking nervously while her stance tilted from one side to the other. She'd had to turn away again, unable to burn up beneath his scrutiny, not while that question was already pinching her into the dirt and the dust. Pull it together some furious part of her managed to snarl amid all the self-doubt and drowned loathing. Was it really so hard to say? No, but it was hard to do, hard to feel, hard to know what it meant, she thought stubbornly. It had to start somewhere though, because it was just as hard not to say it. She had never ignored something just because it was difficult, and though today felt like a fine time to start, she grit her teeth instead and turned her stare back to him.

"I want to drop one of my ranks." She said it as sternly and solidly as she could muster, and although she wasn't sure if that's how it ended up sounding, she tried to hold herself with the rigidity that it was. "I don't care which one," she lied easily enough, frowning as she did. "But I can only manage one." There was a pause, as if she meant to speak again, but she swallowed instead, letting the I'm sorry echo into her gut.
"Then I should be able to teach Zero properly." That was a terrifying statement to say. If she did drop a rank, and she still failed as a mother, then what would her excuse be? Maybe telling Gaucho this was a horrible mistake...

After a moment, quietly she added, "Einarr is a good prospect for Gladiator."