His thoughts make her quiet in self reflection. Strong is not a word that she has ever used to describe herself. She had not been strong enough then, and she had certainly not been strong enough only days before. She is weak in all the ways that should matter and the acceptance of this hurts, a little. She'd seen the way Ysabel had fought so fearlessly for the foals, had seen the way that Osiris left his life on the battlefield trying to protect them and had never felt so inadequate.

She'd give anything for the children, but she could not give her skill when she did not have it. Thus, she had gone to the battle grounds for practice. The other had beaten her soundly, as expected, but she was beginning to see the ways she must move, the mindset she must switch to in those situations. For better or worse, she would learn.

His lips trace kisses along the line of her body and she sighs, thoughts on Laoise.

The words are hard to find. They still exist, mired in the fear and pain of the past but they frequently elude her attempts to unearth them. The memories need exposure to heal, but the faces they recall burn into her heart anew each time.

Bjorns assurance gives a smile to her lips while Laoise's face dances in her mind, and she reaches her bare hands into the pile of broken glass to retrieve the rest of what he asks.

"She was perfect. I know all mothers say that, but she really was." A trembling smile touches her lips as she continues.

"She looked nothing like me, really. All black with the tiniest star on her precious face. I think if you could condense a tornado into a little girl's body, it would have been just about right." Siobhan murmurs the words against him, her eyes open but seeing nothing of the present. "It was her fault we met as many of the other herds as we did that Spring, as a family. She had no fear."

"She always used to say," Siobhan chuckles, "she always used to tell strangers they'd have to go through Daddy and Mommy first if they wanted to hurt her. Even before she'd give her name she'd warn them." She can see in her mind's eye, the playful black filly racing off to some new, interesting creature, tail up in delight at her own audacity. They'd been lucky then, that no one had meant her harm. The herds of the small valley had been good people.

She sobers then, and is quiet for a time, steeling herself against the memories of what came next. The words, when the come, are choked with emotion despite the stiff way she holds herself to prevent the pain from overwhelming her. "I lost her that summer. A flood from a broken dam in the mountains swept down where she and Diarmaid were."

She can see Laoise's panicked swimming as she tried to reach her mother, her tiny face barely visible above the angry mass of mud-dense water. What hurt the most, deep inside Siobhan's heart, was that it was to her that her daughter looked for help. Not to the father beside her, but to her. Her daughter had relied on her to keep her safe and she had failed her. Siobhan clears her throat, shaking her dished head to find clarity. "They were both gone from me in a matter of moments."

Those moments had been the hardest. She'd never felt so alone before. Their family was really all she had, just the three of them, and it had been a startling reminder of how fragile life was. Siobhan remains silent, working hard to gather the bleeding pieces of her heart so that they can still resemble some part of a whole for him.