Iscariot was still reeling from the force of his young friend’s question and everything it implied. Only the rigid coils of his muscles spared him; without that stiffness, the perlino would have crumpled to the ground. He felt as hollow as the shells the hermit crabs left abandoned on the Ridge’s beach, and about as useful. Perhaps— like these discarded homes— Roisin had simply begun to outgrow him. It was a stage that every child inevitably faced, this setting-aside of ideals and interests and even individuals that kept them from continuing to grow. And as much as he wished it was otherwise, the ivory stallion knew his presence here would hold the mare back. So long as he was here, she could never focus entirely on herself. There would always be a part of her that worried about him, that worried whether he was safe and happy and—

I did. I do.

—And suddenly, none of this made sense. Nothing did. A glance confirmed that the ground was still down and the sky was still up, but it still felt as if the whole world had been turned on its head. If Roisin wanted him here, then why was she implying that he should go? Until now, Iscariot had believed he understood the dun girl better than anyone. Better than the sister he’d followed to the ends of the earth, better than the slender black mare who’d become his family shortly after. But now... Shaking his head against the weight of his own disillusionment, the slender Andalusian turned away from Roi to conceal the stray tear or two that trickled down his cheeks. As if he was contemplating his meadow— or rather, the meadow that would never be his, now.

It was strange, that it could hurt to lose something he’d never had, something he’d never thought himself attached to. Or maybe it was just the thought of losing Roisin that threatened to undo him. Watching the wind comb gently through the grass far below, Iscariot was contemplating how to let go— how to say this goodbye he’d never envisioned— when his companion spoke again, the syllables trembling as they left her lips. But you have a baby coming that will need you. And those words shouldn’t have been so sweet, given how difficult he could tell they were to speak. But it was a relief to know that the sabino dun wasn’t trying to rid herself of him; she was trying to make his decision easy. The fact that it was her sacrifice was unnecessary made it no less significant in his eyes.

But at least he could set her aching heart at ease.

"Roi— it isn’t like that," the perlino began, holding back the bark of laughter but feeling a smile curl his lips. "I mean, Faolain and I— I’m the closest she could come to having the child she truly wanted. And I wanted to give it to her and Rivaini, because their happiness matters to me. But, Roi—" he struggled for the right words to express what he felt. The black ‘Teke was family, and like Rivaini or Roisin or anyone he treasured, Iscariot would always be there for her if she needed him. But she’d come to him for a child— for a son or daughter of Rivaini’s own blood— and not for a mate. "That foal is hers, and Rivaini’s. I couldn’t take that from them. I don’t even want to." Great, now it sounded like he didn’t care about the kid, and Roisin was close to tears and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. The filly’s own father had been as fickle as the tides— more, because at least those were predictable. And the fear of another child facing the pain she’d known was written in every quavering note of her voice.

Iscariot turned to face her reluctantly, willing his own expression to hold steady when he witnessed the young mare’s distress. It wouldn’t help to break before her; not now. He had to help her see. "I mean, I’ll go visit, when she’s old enough to... understand. Because I do love her, Roi. I love her enough to stay away and let her have the best two parents she could ever ask for." And that wasn’t him. What kind of father could he hope to be, when he couldn’t even protect her? Or race with her down the beach, or climb to the Ridge’s greatest heights, or do anything but stand and watch wistfully as his son or daughter grew up.

If they’d known what they were asking for, no child would ever ask for a father like him.