Months had come and gone in a flurry of wonder and pain. The uncertainty of what would happen soon became quite certain as flesh began to pull and her stomach began to stretch. It had been a mere nuisance at first, the growing and changing of her bodily matter, but then it became a trial nearly unbearable in its validity. Too many truths had been laid bare and too many long nights had convinced Essetia that it was likely she’d been wrong for making them so. Her days were spent feasting on vegetation both dry and moist- anything to settle the growing hunger pangs that seemed to consume her every desire. If nutrition wasn’t the focal point of the day, then sleep surely came as a close second, and between the two Essetia found her time entirely spent nurturing the child within her womb. 

As mysterious aches and twinges gathered themselves within her joints and muscles, the Spy was quick to catch the bodily messages her child sent from within. However, as time passed and her patience waned, Essetia began to realize that the ultimate battle of her life was soon to come. Perhaps that’s why it came as no surprise when she woke from a rather fitful sleep with little to no appetite.  The warning signs were there and for the first time, the mare was experiencing a restlessness that appeared to have no end. Shortly after an abundance of pacing and fearful inward complaints to Romul, Essetia finally sought the comforts of the sea where the calm ocean breeze might cool her heated skin.

She’d been right to seek the balming rush of the ocean, because as the waves rolled in, she found herself finally able to breathe. Ulrik had come to mind more than once since their intimate-encounter-turned-one-night-stand had occurred, but the Spy was too ashamed or too embarrassed to relay her condition. A creature with child was nothing like the animal they were before… and Essetia knew that. She’d become a mere shadow of her former self and more a complacent maid, best left out to graze. The fire and the wit and the burning determination that had drawn the Engineer to her side had dimmed to a dull spark. Sheer exhaustion had made sure of that.

Romul paced the sands before her, watchful and protective. Since her conception, the wolf had been nothing more than a menace. His coddling and careful attitude had grown tiresome, which gave the Spy another reason to rejoice the eminent birthing of the beast that had robbed her of her strength. Still, she lacked the proper maternal instinct that most mothers clearly embraced, but she did pray in quiet moments for it appear just as suddenly as the child itself. She tried on numerous occasions to imagine what the foal might look like- would it have his eyes? His wild, unruly mane? Of course, those thoughts were quickly banished by the torrent of wolfish scorn for the man that had yet to inquire about his… deeds.

As the pain began to bunch and chord through her stomach and back, Essetia stood taller than before. She would fight as she had always done, wishing and hoping for the things that would never come for her… It wasn’t fear of becoming a mother or that she was an unfit candidate for the job, but rather the idea that she’s imagined it differently and with more love.

Soon enough the agony became too much for the Spy and she dropped heavily into the moist coolness of the sand. She intended to wait as long as she could before she welcomed her first offspring into the Throat. For it would be a day she would always remember, even if it shared ties with good and with bad.

Ulrik was babysat by the shiny, hairy beast with the big horns around the Dragon's Throat, and his irritation grew with every step he took. Each second Essetia did not land in his sights was another second wasted. She could be anywhere by now, and this snail's pace was frustrating and he had to clench his jaw from making a rude and snappy remark which would most likely land his ass back on the other side of the water. Thus, he stayed quiet, bronze eyes searching from beneath dark lashes until he reached a shoreline.

Kirchoff spotted her first and let out a plaintive howl, and Ulrik snapped his gaze upward. "She's down..." he said clearly in his head, no present emotion but obviously wanting to help his bonded. The stallion took off running then, toes gripping the sand as he completely ignored his escort, determined to get to the bay mare and ensure that she was all right.

Muscles rippled beneath his black coat as he closed the distance, sliding to a stop some ways away before trotting inward, looking over her body with scrutiny. She was far too round about the middle and sweating. By her groans, she was uncomfortable, and it hit him square in the chest that she was pregnant and having children. Were they his? Ulrik blinked dumbly but his moment of shock was short lived. She needed him, or at least he hoped she wanted his help.

"Essetia," he growled, watching her carefully and slowly kneeling by her head. The weight of his body was only somewhat graceful, and he lowered his own jaw until their eyes were nearly on the same plane. "What do you need me to do?" he asked honestly. He wouldn't leave her here, even if her child was not his.

He had been serious those many months ago. She had whatever was left of his heart - for whatever it was worth. There was little she could do to hurt him now.

As if by fate, or maybe just chance and a trickle of luck, Essetia heard the ominous pounding of hooves upon the sand. Romul was quick to react, though his snarling was short-lived and a bit dumbfounded by the sound of it. At first, it seemed to resonate evenly across the beach before tapering off into the wind when sure notes of uncertainty struck the tune from its crescendo.  The mother-to-be turned her head just enough to catch the blending of bronze and black, her eyes rolling heavily into the back of her head with some effort. “Of course,” she muttered bitterly and without reservation. However, the waves of pain and ocean water continued in time with one another. When they reached their peak, she growled deep enough to match the threatening rumble of her wolf as her guests drew near enough to scent. Ulrik’s unmistakable musk threw her off kilter and Essetia caught her breath on a particularly sharp tearing in her gut.

However, she managed to turn a fiery eye toward her pursuer and his… familiar friend. She’d met the colorful stud on the very beach she now wondered if she would ever leave. Surely there was some relief from the agony she now endured- no one had warned her of it. Otherwise, she might have reconsidered her scuffle with the Engineer. Though their previous encounter had been no true scuffle in name, Essetia imagined it might later become one… when at last she’d escaped the grip of “death”.

When Urik was close enough to speak her name, the very sound of it upon his lips encouraged a brash and unforgiving laugh that resembled a heated groan. However, once her voice had rid itself of the rasping whip of agony, she did indeed resume her callous greeting. What could he do? He could undo what he already did.  Romul stepped forward to position himself at the spy’s shoulder, but did little else in the way of keeping Ulrik from her side. His protective nature had certainly grown tenfold, but not enough to warrant a fight with the man. While working to reposition herself across the sand, Essetia lifted her eyes to those of bronze, still ashamed and still unsure of how she’d managed to avoid him for so long.

The Engineer had lowered himself onto the sand as well, but the spy took little from the gesture. It was weakness, pure and simple, that had landed her here and without the fire and strength to push him away, Essetia felt more vulnerable than ever. These were intimate moments to be shared with those one loved, but Essetia could not say she’d ever shared the words with anyone else, aside from her father. Heat had gathered in her cheeks at being unable to conceal the pain and the sheer lack of decency she found herself in. But nothing could prepare her against the waves of utter agony that soon left her speechless. Her child would wait no longer.

“Just… don’t do anything,” she finally pressed between grit teeth. In one last attempt to find solace before a new, unknown future, she pressed her face into his neck and let her body do the rest.

Her laugh was disconcerting to say the least, but it wasn't as if he didn't expect her ire. She was obviously in pain and very overwhelmed by this situation, and he patiently and quietly took the brunt of her bad mood. If anyone deserved to be cranky, it was a pregnant mare. This is why he rarely made an effort to befriend females. They were moody and unpredictable, but at least this one had a valid excuse. After lowering himself to the sand after her outburst of groaning sarcasm, he waited, wondering what it was he could do.

Again, she scorned him, and his lips quirked into a witty smile. This wasn't his first child. Though Illynx had chosen him - stalked him, perhaps? How did one describe drawing him away with her scent until he couldn't think straight? He had been there at his son's birth, so he was not the least bit concerned about her body doing what it needed to expel the little parasite within. It belonged on the ground and no longer weighing upon her spine.

"Perhaps that is for the best," he rumbled in return, his gaze not wandering or wavering no matter his curiosity. Instead, he focused on her face and the strange markings bowing around her eyes. Though in the next moment, she shoved her head into his neck and he let his muzzle drop toward her jaw and her poll, rubbing his bearded chin over her skin in what he hoped was a soothing way. Messy hair hung over them, and he waited for her pain to stop and the exhaustion to set in.

That would be the moment he would make more of an effort to do something, even if she protested. She could rest, and he would check on the child. Make sure it was breathing. If it was his, the fact that their races were opposing could often result in an abomination of nature, something too sickly and unworthy to be alive. Ulrik sincerely hoped this would not be the case; he wasn't sure she would forgive him if that were true.

The sudden explosion of senses was perhaps the first experience to be described. A son was born in the sands of the Dragon's Throat, squinting against the warm air and quite insecure in his own body. A wet and slick body was obviously bay in color, much like his mother's coat, and he even bore obvious white markings across his face - similar but different enough to set him apart. Long, dark lashes obscured the color of his eyes, at least for the moment as he simply breathed for the first time in his life.

There was no denying that this boy was not a child of Ulrik's. Though his coloring and markings were that of his mother, he sported dark, cloven hooves, small and dainty like a deer in his youth. A lion tail with a childish tuft curled between his skinny hind legs, and there were two nubs upon his brow where horns would soon proudly grow. Unless there was another cloven hooved male with a lion tail rather intimate with Essetia, there was absolutely no doubt.

After moments of gathering himself as best he could, he shifted his legs through the sand, trying to spread out the long, unsteady limbs and prepare to stand. So many feelings popped into his brain. Hunger. Cold. Warm. Chill. Fear. He scrambled a little, shifting and tumbling until a massive shadow held him firmly, poking and nudging when the boy threatened to fall or tumble back into the sand. After some time of finding his balance, he leaned against the shadow, blinking to reveal bright green and golden eyes.

Still, he knew his mother and wanted her, not this shadow. He knew it deep within his bones and tried to stumble off in her direction, the shadow dutifully following. The boy waited patiently for his mother, the cloudy world gaining clarity as time wore on and his mind slowly forming thoughts with a longer string of feelings and deeper complexity.

She had never witnessed the miracle of birth—always afraid, terrified, and quartered against the memory of her own jilted childhood as she was—and had therefore hidden away to suffer her insecurities alone. What about the burden of children, of creatures grown and birthed from love, made mothers so lonely, so lost? Her own mother had slowly deteriorated before her… a shell that crumbled away until all that remained was a memory of dark and broken eyes, warm in their defeat.

Essetia didn’t feel so entirely absent, just scattered. Everything was happening at breakneck speeds and it was all she could do to keep up -trusting him- in the face of the mounting storm. Her life was climaxing at great heights and as she pulsed and writhed through the pains of the next generation, she could only smile. Her flanks were slick from her efforts and she felt strangled by it all, by Ulrik’s scent, his words, his motions to comfort her, it all seemed too much to bear… until it wasn’t.

Beneath a shadow of awe and doubt the new mother watched as her accomplishments flashed soundlessly before her, her soft warbling waxing and waning tiredly. He was such a beautiful creature, her son, and certainly deserving of the life she’d provided… but Essetia felt helpless and weak. Did she deserve the life she’d built them both? Was this absolute terror natural?

The colt was stunning -a perfect blend of Spy and Engineer- and Essetia couldn’t imagine a more perfect creature.  She tried more than once to overcome the trembling waves of agony that promised to incapacitate her once again despite the vision that existed before her. What then? Was there no relief from the bitter titles of motherhood?

“Ulrik,” she whimpered, unable to grasp the source of her suffering. The waves began again, violent and sure, and Essetia was groaning against what appeared to be another labor.

She didn’t have the strength. She didn’t want to continue. She wanted to give up.

For a moment she pictured the emotionless stare of her own dam. She tried to picture what she’d looked like after leaving the mortal world for happiness beyond… and then she fought. In one last attempt to beat the darkness hedging her vision, Essetia pushed.

Her daughter was much like her son, a picture painted to perfection, but as she blinked, the world became dark and unforgiving. Rest was an inevitable force however, and so Essetia closed her eyes hoping to find the strength to open them and find happiness in the life she’d created.