A rough snort pushed out his nostrils as Rexanna sheepishly claimed that she could ‘handle’ the gigantic tree she was attempting to move. And then, as his thick neck moved to block her further attempts to move, the ferocious look on her face made him instantly regret his attempts to corral his very pregnant mate…but only partially, as he was as set on protecting her and the precious cargo in his barrel as she was on moving the blasted tree.

His black-rimmed ears tilted back, lips setting slightly in a firm line as he placed his heavy bulk to brace against her very pregnant body pushing incessantly against his (but not too braced as to not hurt her). “Rexanna—” he began, low voice laced with exasperation. But he was cut off from his (attempted) reasoning with the stubborn, pregnant woman by her words.

“Oh – Oh, no.”

Those words struck a cold note of fear into his chest. His head drew up, brows knitted together in concern, eyes that had been light with playfully serious exasperation suddenly darkening with worry as they raked over every inch of her body—what was hurt? What was wrong?

Though she offered a wide grin with her words (“‘Happening’? What is happening, mpenzi?”), it did little to mitigate the Elephant’s misgivings; nor did he realize what was “happening” until Rexanna began to slowly lower her body to the earth. His eyes widened, a loud snort of shock reverberating from his barrel and out his nostrils.

Their foal. It was coming. And he was there, with her. He would be there for the birth.

With a powerful, adrenaline-fueled kick, he cleared away the offending, large log that had started this whole mess. His ears swiveled around, listening for others (though, truthfully, there was some Dorobian part of him that was still listening for the predators of the plains). He wanted this moment for just them, and there were so many bodies milling around the Rotunda with Kis’s call.

Using his great body as shield from where the bulk of others had gathered (although they were far off through the woods), his head dropped to Rexanna’s side. His lips brushed away the sweat-slicked tendrils of mane from her neck; he cleared her face of bedraggled strands of forelock. Quietly, deeply, he murmured soft words of encouragement while she pushed. Not because she needed them, but because he wanted to share this moment with her. He had not been there for the birth of their twins. But, for this child, he would be.

The moment a body breached past Rexanna’s pushing, his muzzle was there. Perhaps a different stallion would recoil or avoid the messiness of birth; but the Elephant King was to awed by the new life of his child. A broad grin crossed his muzzle, “She is beautiful,” was his low, hoarse murmur to Rexanna. Afterbirth stained the pale coat dark, but there was no denying the delicate beauty of the girl’s new life.

But not all was well, as his perked ears and traveling nose (bumping numerous times into Rexanna’s as the new mother cleaned their filly). There was something wrong.

Her heart raced, far faster than any other foals’. And her breath, it lagged, far slower than any others newborns’. His alarmed navy gaze met Rexanna’s, and it was only the pleading in her gaze that allowed him to grasp his mounting panic with cold, controlled resolve.

“Mbwene, Marembo, help. Go,” was his urgent command of the two companions, sending them to find any healer that may be near.

— My dear, but if I make the Pearly Gates

I’ll do my best to make a drawing of God and Lucifer,

a boy and girl,

An angel kissin’ on a sinner.