Orhan stood with his muzzle outstretched as patiently as he could muster as Ava pressed herself into him and cried all the harder. He could feel the heat of her body and the salty wetness of her tears; her grief was so palpable that he almost felt as though he were experiencing it himself, though he was no closer to understanding why she was so upset.

At the sudden hissing sound, Orhan lifted his head in unison with Ava, his gut clenched and his instincts screaming snake. Yet it was only Nasmat, her pale face contorted in incredulity and her front leg lifted from the ground as though she could scarce bear to take another step closer. Her words were strange and curt, and made Orhan’s ears twist back in confusion. The way she was speaking, it was as though Ava’s child had fulfilled some sort of prophecy.

In that moment, Nasmat reminded him of his mother. It was unsettling.

Ava spoke then, expressing their bewilderment for the both of them, her voice becoming uncharacteristically sharp as she challenged Nasmat’s odd line of questioning. Orhan side-eyed the little mare as if seeing her anew, and felt almost proud of her. His lips parted to speak - to come to Ava’s aid - as his gaze darted back to the lead mare, but the situation was so alien that he found he could say nothing. Instead, he lowered his nose to the quiet little lump that was Ava’s filly, his eyes futilely roaming her pale, perfect hide for imperfection yet again.