She rests her gaze on the colt warmly as he proceeds to reenact the dramatic rescue for them, happily adding in the appropriate oohs and ahhs. His enthusiasm was heart warming and she wondered for the first time what his mother was like. Not that Sigurdr was unlike Bjorn; but Sigurdr's confidence was more loud, more... boisterous. Youth probably had something to do with it, she mused, but certainly not all. He had certainly inherited Bjorn's good looks, Siobhan thought admiringly as her gaze returned to rest on the sabino painted stallion.

A part of her felt unreasonably suspicious of the whole situation. Not because it was bad. In fact, because nothing had been bad so far. Apart from leaving her alone for a few moments upon arrival - which was understandable for a herd stallion - everything had gone ridiculously well. The land was gorgeous, teeming with brilliant creatures and beautiful scenery. The heir was friendly and well-mannered, with the confidence of either a precocious foal or one simply raised in a supportive environment. Most imporantly of all, perhaps, was how good of a father Bjorn was showing himself to be.

It almost didn't feel fair. One simply shouldn't be that blesed by the fates.

Siobhan's ears perk up as the colt finishes his dramatic telling of her rescue and she smiles fondly at him as he trots off into the forest, his slender figure slicing through the foilage. She turns back to her claimer as he addresses her, briefly closing her eyes at his touch. She wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as she could. Enjoy it, wring every essence of joy from it until fate saw fit to rip it away once more.

"As am I," she responds, tracking along beside him. "Though I feel like I've definitely come out ahead in the bargain."

Playfully she reaches out to bump his shoulder, letting her touch linger a breath longer than is absolutely necessary, given the circumstance. A flash of what could be, come fall, distracts her for a moment and she is glad that equines lack the ability to blush. Fall is far enough away that it is not heat that brings it on, and she chides herself for getting distracted. Sigurdr has done much to make her remember why being a mother was so fulfulling already, but a myriad of other emotions remained tied to the idea of another child. To give herself a moment to regather her thoughts, she rests her gaze back on the heir as he hunts down his azure coated quarry.

After a moment, she turns back to her claimer, an almost unguarded smile back on her lips. "Are all of your children like him? Like you?"