Striking mights and maybes even more

A useless thing called life

It's a biting cold again

"Mauja, if you really want to know why I want a child from you, I'll tell you now."

Did he really want to know? Both yes, and no. Yes, because it was a mystery, a thing which intrigued him (or normally would; his mind was still frazzled).. a little something which had thrown a spark on the embers of his curiosity, which had one been one of the hottest flames in his soul. And no, because knowing the reasons might give him understanding.. might fit the puzzle, the logic, and sway his mind with argument. Was it that he thought Leyra couldn't be a good mother? No — he didn't doubt her. It was just... what would the child be, to him? Was he ready for another? Did he want another? Yet he felt that the pace of the world was too high, that he wasn't given enough time to think. But at the same time, if given the time to ponder, he would ponder for eternity, and the moment would slip past, their bodies crumble to dust before a decision was reached. Sometimes, it just wasn't the time for thought.

Descaro. He should've been able to guess that, really; Frost was her father's dark bay, with her mother's appaloosa hind end. Briefly Mauja closed his eyes. How other stallions treated their mares was none of his business, and while he would never do it himself.. yes, it stirred a faint anger that Descaro had been the one to cover Leyra, and then dump her, but at the same time he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever led her own, or if she'd mired herself in delusions which would only hurt her. Descaro was a loyal soldier.

It was a sad tale she painted, and for a while he did not understand what the point was, why she was telling him of her broken past — how could a child not born of love possibly solve it? "If I have this child with you, it will be the only child I've had knowing .. that the father wasn't intentionally hurting my already broken heart." Was it so wrong, to wish for someone to love, to cherish? Someone to keep loving, and cherishing? Where she had no expectations from the father, no fantasies, nor the prospect of it being taken from her looming above her head? His blue eyes opened again, and for a while he did not look at her, but at the pale horizon. "Almost," he responded to her question after a moment. Just a few things more... "What would you expect of me, once it is born?" His eyes locked onto hers; would she expect him to help raise it, to ignore it, to.. what? "And what is to stop it from drifting away like your other daughter, whom you love, too?" Or was she just clinging to hope, that this child would not hurt her, push her away?

But what if it did, and broke her heart even more? Was it better to be cracked, than have someone glue you back together only for you to break again?