A little flutter of anticipation tickles Ylva's belly when she sees that Solaris is the first to approach. Though they have spent little time together since Ylva had washed up on the inlet's shores all those months ago, she still feels great affection for the mare, and considers her her first and only friend among these islanders. And it seems that Solaris, too, has a gently-swelling belly. But who could the father be?
Ylva nickers a soft greeting to Solaris, her ears pricked, but when she sees the sorrow and fear on her friend's face, her stomach drops. Instinct tells her to shove the foals behind her, but she doesn't move. She trusts Solaris like a sister, even when the words that come out of her mouth are anything but welcome.
Ylva has never been a temperamental mare, so she is surprised to feel anger flaring within her. To disguise it, she looks away and presses her lips together in a firm line. She wants to reject Solaris's pity. She wants to snap at her friend, and ask her why--if it's so bad here--she doesn't leave herself. But Ylva does no such thing. She was raised to behave with decorum and modesty. She closes her eyes when Solaris embraces her, and when she meets her gaze again, her face is cool and still as water.
"You have a kind heart, my friend. But I chose to return. Their mother is dead, and I cannot raise three foals by myself. I will be lucky if my milk can even keep up with two."
She cranes her head around to look at her adopted children, and feels her heart expand with love. When she looks at Solaris again, there is the faintest of smiles on her lips. "We will both be mothers soon, it seems. Does Warsaw know?"
2; norwegian fjord; red dun pangare; 14hh
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