Siobhan had heard stories of mares that could hold onto their pregnancies for far longer than the traditional time frame, cradling the precious gift inside of their bodies until the time was right and their situation safe. She wished she could do that. She wished that she could hold onto this pregnancy until her pale hooves were once more immersed in the soft sandy beach of the Ridge, so that it would be her loving family that looked upon her precious children first.

But she could not. Her belly swelled so wide that she avoided most wooded areas out of fear that she would become stuck between the trunks, and she felt nearly as wide as she was tall. Siobhan was fairly certain now that it was not just one child that she carried, unless her baby had two heads and eight legs, and the prospect of twins frightened her. Not because she felt inadequate for the task of mothering two, but because there were things here she could not protect them from. Twins conceivably meant that both children would be smaller than usual; fragile little souls that would be susceptible to the bitter cold of this icy winterland. She already bore marks of winter's wrath in the rounding of her ears, their tips frozen by frostbite soon after her arrival, before she'd understood enough of the Inlet's topography to know where to hide from the wind, and what cover to use when the snow stacked higher.

She was terrified that her children would be born somewhere too cold for them to survive and that she would lose them as she had lost Laoise. As the labor pains started, her heart hammered hard in her chest and she started ambling away from the herd, shooing any attempted followers with uncharacteristically bared teeth and pinned ears. The last thing she needed was for Bjorn or Nyimara to tail her during her birth and make things worse than they already were.

There were a few spots in the Inlet that she felt were guarded enough, but as the reality of her impending birth loomed, and the heavy realization sank in that there was no way she would be able to get home in time for them to call the Ridge their birthhome as Roisin did, the more she resented the Inlet and it's occupants. She would not allow her babies to call the Inlet their home. They would never be set on this path of vengeance that Bjorn walked.

Siobhan trudged covertly to the outskirts of the Inlet, and with trepidation, stepped over the trail of Bjorn's patrol into a new land. She wasn't particularly sure if this was the Cove or the Bay, and to be honest, as she paused in her movements to breathe heavily through a particularly hard contraction, she wasn't sure she cared. The Cove might be nice, if only because she might again see Ysabel's face and know that she had a friend to look over her. But she knew the Cove had been plagued by wolves recently from the stories shared, and that with her own eyes she had seen how the land teemed with far too many strangers. Reluctantly, she angled away from the mountain and toward the distant shore, making slow work to cross the Bay. She was careful not to go too far in, disliking the idea of bringing Bjorn's wrath down upon whomever ruled here. However, as she spotted a dark boulder that jutted proudly toward the sky and caught enough sunlight to have melted the snow in a small buffer of clear ground, she knew that she had found the place her children would be born.

The actual process was surprisingly fast, all things considered. Laoise's face danced behind her eyelids as it had before, but the loss of her first daughter and the fears for these little ones were offset by the love she could feel coming from her three living daughters, even from islands away. It helped too, she thought, that these two were so small. The first filly that slid from her body had hardly begun to stir before the next was eagerly slipping from her body, already in a hurry to meet the world.

Exhaustion had carved deep hollows above Siobhan's eyes, but she rose back onto her feet so that she could clean off her two newest daughters with a heart so full it felt like it was about to burst. The first was a golden shade that seemed to perfectly combine the red of her coat with the cream of Ailill's into a sleek golden shade, and she stretched down to clean the tiny filly with a soft murmur of the girl's name. "My darling Naenia; I am so happy you are here." Behind her lay the second filly, her pale face and wide crystal blue eyes a replica of her lover's. Just like with Roisin, there would be no doubt in anyone's mind who the small girl belonged too, although Siobhan could see subtle freckling along her muzzle and eyelids, similar to that which she wore herself. With a smile that felt like it stretched from ear to ear, Siobhan cuddled her as well, breathing out the girl's name. "Saoirse, my beloved."

It took them longer than usual to stand, although whether that was because they spent far too much time nosing into each other, or because they seemed impossibly small compared to herself, Siobhan wasn't sure. She hovered nervously over them, anxious that fate would intervene and steal away her two precious girls, and bothered by a sense of being watched by someone. Eventually, her anxiety eased as they both set to suckling, tucked against either side of her distended stomach and she caressed the tiny rumps to either side of her with a quiet, tired smile before a sound ahead put her back on edge.

"Hello?" Her ears flicked nervously back and forth as she tried to discern who was coming, if anyone. She didn't want to dislodge the newborns unless absolutely necessary, but she did not know the residents - or predators - of the Bay either. "Who's there?"