Soljor put his nose to her neck and started the familiar grooming ritual as Mercury attempted to tell him what had transpired. She choked on the first word: Caliber. It was followed by Felony. Soljor knew there were two options: Option A was that Felony had simply come to collect his son. Soljor could not fault him for that; after all, Caliber was Felony’s. He had also promised to return the son when he came of age. Although he was a little miffed that the lame tobiano would come here without permission, invitation, or announcement, he could not be angry for him taking his son.

Option B was conjured from the recesses of his darker memories of dead foals. He’d never heard of a father killing his child, but such things were not beyond conception. If Felony had done such a crime, which he could not really imagine, it would be unforgivable.

Option A was far more likely between the two. He could feel Mercury’s tears against his neck as her head slipped downwards. He could not bring himself to tell her that Caliber would soon have had to leave the Bay soon anyway. Soljor already had Magnus, and one male youth was enough. He’d never known much about Caliber, the colt had kept to himself. What mattered, though, was Mercury’s despair.

Caliber had been her first.

He dropped his head to push it against hers. There were not words to be spoken in this moment. Instead, he just attempted to give her warmth.

“You’re not alone,” His voice came finally, deep and quiet. His heart hurt for her. He wished desperately he could do something to alleviate her pain. And that was all he could say. She did not have to face her pain alone; he would be there for her.