Striking mights and maybes even more

A useless thing called life

It's a biting cold again

Time seemed to slow, and the world with it. The frantic pace of his heart lessened slightly, freed by the relative silence, the lack of words begging for salvation from him. His throat still felt choked, but each black breath came in a little easier. Maybe he could get through this. Maybe he wouldn't break his head in half trying to fix this. Quivering breaths escaped him in white puffs of smoke, and her voice answered his; "I'm positive." Tears and emotion still thickened it, but something about it seemed less desperate — his eyes opened, and fell upon her face, the tears still brimming her eyes and a small, barely visible smile upon her lips. Was she feeling better, or just trying to convince him it wasn't dangerous? That it was alright? But he wasn't convinced, as everything about it felt strange. Why would giving her a foal fix things? His logic seemed to get to her, she sighed and lowered her head, small voice slipping out.

Was that it, then? His mind kept on glitching, sliding in and out of focus and clarity, dark patches blinkering his concentration. Had that simple question decided it for her, or would she keep begging him? Waiting, he watched her, but she seemed gone again, looking at nothing but dead space and quivering slightly where she leaned against him. She felt cold, even where she was pressed up against his flank, and Mauja frowned slightly at her. Shifting in the snow to better bear their weights while relaxing, his mind almost began straying before she snapped back with a shiver. Swallowing, his ears fell back, preparing for another onslaught of her desperate will grinding against his conscience.

But no.

She'd stay. If he covered her, she'd stay, and live with the reminder of a dream shattered. It was absurd. It was like Seiren and her half-breed filly in a backwards manner, martyrdom and and and... Slowly he leveled his icy gaze on hers again. "Then how could it help?" His voice bordered on cold, and he wondered why he'd spoken at all. He could've just nudged her on, taken her home to the Basin, and let her get over this and wake up a bit. Remember that there was more to life than him. Yet his tongue kept babbling, and he dropped his head slightly. His frosty horn leaned against hers, and he heaved a miniscule sigh. He felt calmer now, more rational — more convinced that giving in to her would be wrong, unless she found some undeniable logic to throw in his face. Children created upon whims seldom turned out well, and while he loved them no less, it was no reason to create them.