It did not matter that Oswald could not see her smile, it shone brightly anyway. In the light of his innocent aura, it was hard to remain as upset as she had been before, but not, unfortunately, impossible. Much of it came surging back the moment the precocious colt confirmed Róisín's fears and her body stiffened. She had had her suspicions given Ozzie's size and the timing, but Róisín had never been so bold as to ask.

Now she didn't have to.

"Is that so?" She asked, working to keep her tone the same. Siobhan had always taught Róisín to remain quiet if she had nothing nice to say, and while the impulsive dun girl hadn't always listened, she did sometimes remember. Her chest felt tight, and she stood, frozen in place, as the precious colt explained he was only waiting for his dam to call to him.

Róisín didn't understand why the confirmation hurt so much when she'd spent so many months believing it to be true. It was like someone had taken a razor and jammed it straight beneath a rib bone. It wasn't enough to kill, and yet she was left gasping all the same. Still locked in place, Róisín watched the boy answer his mother's summons and fought every urge to make Oswald stop. To make him wait. To make him promise that if he needed help, that if Tyr tried to take him somewhere he didn't want to go, if Tyr tried to hurt him, that he would call for her.

But she didn't.

Whether it was loyalty to the title Oswin carried or fear of traumatizing little Ozzie that caused it didn't matter. Róisín remained silent. And when she could hear the faint murmurings of Oswin's voice again, she turned woodenly and fled into the heart of the Peak to search for a Tyr-shaped boulder upon which she might unleash her frustrations.