Was she still there? Still listening, to his jumbled explanation? Or was he only talking to the darkness? Bitter murmurs faded to silence, and in the shadows, there was nothing to respond to him. Perhaps she had finally had enough of his shifting thoughts, and slipped away before he found the verbal ropes to bind her with. Perhaps she wanted to slip away, to drive it home that he'd handled this tactlessly. Swallowing the rising tide of emotions he fought the urge to look for her, and the telltale puff of her breath. It would be so comforting — so damning — to know she was still there, that he wasn't just talking to the quiet trees, but if he looked and didn't find her.. the thought of it threatened to swallow his mind whole.

Then suddenly the ground shifted. He hadn't realized how he'd been straining for a sound, but now that he heard how the grass whispered as her hooves touched it he realized how he'd held his breath, just waiting for some sign of life. Feeling each pound of his heart reverberate through his body he waited, listened as she came closer, and then he felt her. The cold air grew slightly warmer, and then her soft muzzle pushed against his. He hadn't expected a touch; his head jerked up a fraction, one ear flickering, then he snorted quietly and sought for her again, closing his eyes as her voice washed over him. The grief. A humorless smile tugged at his lips. He caused it all by himself, with his mind spinning out of control, and he fought down the urge to, bitterly, ask why they all left him if he didn't drive them away. The thing they all had in common was their relation to him.

Her red mane shifted against his face, and his eyes fluttered open, then widened. She had returned. No longer was it just his mind filling in the contour of her body, but she was there, a clear, defined line between the edge of her back and the shadows beyond. For a moment he sought her gaze, but then she spoke of Tamlin and he winced. Ears falling back he averted his eyes, imagining the colt alone, somewhere out in the world — searching for his stupid father who walked into a time-portal and got lost. Never mind that it hadn't been his choice, but Tamlin was young and horribly naive in many ways.. what if he died out there? Somehow, he thought that Faelene would not find his self-blaming flattering, and he kept his mouth shut, listening, hoping that wherever the blood-prince boy of his was he was alive, and warm, and well.

"It is a strong bond," he admitted quietly. "Call me a fool, but I was worried you'd be angry with me, and want me to have nothing to do with the-" He paused, frowned, and corrected himself. "-our child, and.. if you would've.. it would've been easier if I steeled myself for it," he finished lamely, before giving his snowy shoulders and head a quick shake. He turned his head back around, to her, and then glanced down the length of her body, trying to see the contour of her barrel. Suddenly, he found himself deathly curious of what lurked in her womb. It was not the excitement he'd felt about Snö, nor the quiet anxiety of Lotus giving birth to some demon spawn (fortunately, she hadn't), but just simple, intense curiosity.