Larka knew as soon as the pains began exactly what was happening. Birth.

The appearance of that strange little girl and the heated conversation with Bastille had changed nothing. Despite the fire that burned within her now, Larka still found herself swollen heavily with his child. Their coupling that day had not been the last. As if the burning embers at her core egged him on the stallion had taken her beneath him over and over again, reveling in the release. Now this is not to say that she did not enjoy their lustfulled coupling. After all, there was something strangely addicting and ethereal about the feel of his touch. At first she had hated it, hated the intoxication of his skin and how the pleasure crept across her... but over time, she had grown to need it. Like a drug user she craved it and the release it gave her from all other thoughts and emotions. He swept over her, enrapturing her completely with the sensations.

It came to no surprise to her when her belly began to swell with life. After all, they had bred enough in the last couple months. It was as if Bastille felt he was losing control of her, as if only his child within her would secure that invisible chain that bound her to him. Of course Larka had no interest in any others. In truth she had enough on her plate just keeping Amaretto and him in line but as the child within her grew, her attentions began to slowly turn away from the chocolate colored stallion and instead began to prepare herself to the moment.

And that moment was now.

Amaretto clung close to her mother, worry and concern clouding her deep hazel eyes as the ripples of pain caused her mother to grunt. Silver white wings ruffle at her sides as the pale mare shrugged the concern of her daughter off and instead moved away, too uncomfortable to rest and the pains of labor not yet close enough for her to settle into the thick grasses. Amaretto did her best to be supportive, and Larka offered the young girl a gentle smile before pushing her away. This was something that she could not be helped with.

For a time, Larka ambled through the thick grasses, twisting and winding her way down the narrow pathways worn down by constant hoofprints. Teeth clench together behind closed lips as inwardly the blue eyed woman cursed the chocolate Bastille. She let herself ponder the possibilities of males having to give birth, and that brings a smile to her lips as once again another wave of pain wracks her body, this time much stronger. It was as if the child within her was telling her that time was growing close.

She moves once again, settling herself into the thick grasses of a sheltered grotto protected on all sides by thick fir trees. Although she did not prefer to give birth in the open, she did not have time to travel half way across the territory to the little thicket she had birthed Amaretto in and at least the little meadow was somewhat protected by rain and wind.

One hour turned into two.

She could hear the worried calls of Amaretto as the young girl waited less than patiently for a response from her mother but for now Larka let the girl go unanswered. All her attention and energies focused on pushing the child from her womb.

The birth of this child went quickly now, and it was not long before Larka found herself rising on unsteady legs to gaze down upon the small fragile looking filly curled in a tiny wet ball. Long obsidian locks veil her vision field as Larka sets to work licking the remnants of blood and afterbirth from her skin. Surprise and delight danced through her eyes as she stood back a moment now to fully gaze upon her newborn. She was pale, like Larka and Amaretto, and yet unlike the silver white mare, she was pale gold, like first light of sunlight upon white snows. Her wings were a bright white, tipped in a pale grey and her long forelegs curled beneath her showed the same white stockings. All in all, she was beautiful. A tender smile curves her ash dusted lips as Larka lets a soft nicker escape her lips, encouraging the child to rise.

It does not take the girl very many tried before her wobbling legs manage to bring her to a standing position. Amaretto lets forth another worried call and this time, Larka meets her cry with a reassuring nicker, inviting her eldest daughter to come now and meet her new sister.