Guilt was a powerful feeling. It had seeped in and colored every aspect of her day to day life; the despair had stolen much of her joy and led to what Siobhan objectively knew was depression. Knowing what it was did not, unfortunately, help her rise from it.

Her eagerness to meet the herd, which had prompted her to seek out the young colt Belikov and in part had spurred her to go see what was causing the altercation in which it happened, had entirely dissipated. She hadn't even sought out the pretty pale palomino that had been there, the one who had implored Siobhan to help, despite her desperate worry of the mare's condition. No, she'd hidden herself in the heavily forested areas, swearing over and over to the little babe that grew within her womb that she would do whatever was necessary to protect them.

And while she had, for the most part, remained cloistered and alone in the darkness, too ashamed to meet anyone's eyes, much less Bjorn's, she had gone out once. To fight. Or rather, to lose to the little grullo mare Agnes. Still, even a loss was a step forward. It was knowledge gained that may help her to one day protect her child.

Siobhan grazed listlessly, mentally tallying the movement of each macaw overhead. It was a strange thing she had picked up, but an irrational part of her felt as though they would tell her when the colt was back. They were her connection to the little prince she'd been unable to protect. As their chatter picked up, she raised her head to study them. They were clearly not bothered enough to take off, which meant it was no excited foal plowing through the undergrowth. Who, then?

The answer came a scant moment later and she warred with herself for a long moment. She desperately wanted to see him, to feel the comfort of his touch and the way his presence soothed her worried soul. And yet, she wasn't sure she could face him. How could she look Bjorn in the eye and admit that she had stood, frozen and useless, as the rogue palomino stallion stole away the two foals? How could she face him, knowing that she had lost the things he held most precious and yet still had the audacity to stay in his home as a welcome guest?

Ultimately, it was the desire to know how he felt, one way or the other that spurred her forward. Even if he hated her, she had to know or it would drive her mad. If he did want her out, not that she would blame him, at least she wouldn't have to spend her days worrying about it. Quietly the mare paced forward, following the narrow banks of the small brook back toward the clearing.

She paused at the edge of the clearing. not hard to see against the green, a red blemish against the land's verdant life. Her ears pricked toward the handsome stallion that had claimed her, before falling back uncertainly, apologetically. A sigh worked its way up from her chest, carrying a soft exhalation of his name. "Bjorn."

Emotions well again and she fights back the urge to cry. "Bjorn, I--" She clears her throat and blinks her eyes rapidly to focus and not get lost in the details of her feelings. "Bjorn, I'm sorry that I couldn't stop them. I will try to do better for our foal..."

She wants to continue on, promising him whatever it was that will stop the guilt from swallowing her up but she wants to hear his reaction even more. She must know how angry he is.