Ylva watched the twins approach with a weary smile on her face. “Quinnie, Jojo,” she said, using the cutesy nicknames she had been unable to resist giving them in lieu of the names they had chosen, “Meet your new brother. Just be gentle.”
She bent over and began to groom the damp little bundle at her feet before he caught a chill, but the sound of an approach drew her attention away. Her entire body stiffening, Ylva watched as a silver form appeared through the trees. Warsaw.
“Quinn, Joker, get behind me,” she muttered, her eyes not leaving the approaching stallion. The twins had managed to escape Warsaw’s attention so far, but Ylva would not take any chances. She could only hope that Warsaw would be distracted enough by the son she had given him to continue ignoring them.
To her relief, there was approval in Warsaw’s face and tone when he addressed her. She regarded him with an expressionless face and dark, wary eyes, stiffening again when his gaze passed over the twins, and did not speak until he asked her the colt’s name. Ylva lowered her eyes to regard the newborn, who had already struggled to his feet and begun to nurse until the arrival of Warsaw had caught his attention. Ylva had given zero thought as to a name, but she did not want to tell Warsaw that. So she spoke the first name that came to mind.
“Torsten,” she replied, without looking at Warsaw. He did not need to know that it was her father’s name.
3; norwegian fjord; red dun pangare; 14hh |