Tigerlily had been avoiding Björn again. She’d been avoiding everyone. Since the loss of her son, she’d kept to herself, and whenever another member of the herd had approached, she’d remained silent and stony, crushed by the weight of her grief. The buckskin paint mare was not herself. Nothing about her behaviour was rational. She didn’t feel well. For hours after Ivar had attacked her and her son had been born dead, the mare had laid in the surf, so that the waves of the ocean had soaked her, washing away the scent of blood and the scent of the dark predatory stallion.

For once she was glad that her Bear King had other things on his mind, and other matters to keep him preoccupied. Broken into pieces as she was, it would destroy what was left of her if her beloved were to blame himself for what had happened. It hurt her heart even thinking about any pain Björn might feel. If Tigerlily had her way, he would never know that Ivar had found her. But it was hard, it was so hard keeping secrets.

And still Tigerlily pushed everyone away, not able to comprehend in her current state of mind that in trying to prevent hurting the one she loved with the truth, she’d end up hurting him with her indifference and apathy.

The mare called Elvira had found her, asked her to look after her newborn foal. If not for the numbness that threatened to consume her, Tigerlily would have screamed and cried. Look how beautiful, and perfect, and healthy your daughter is. She should be precious to you. How could you leave her now? How could you leave her ever? If life had been different, and Tigerlily’s firstborn had survived, she’d have a daughter of her own. And her second-born son… Of course, she shared none of this with Elvira. She’d never spoken of this with anyone, not even Björn…

If she’d been thinking clearly, Tigerlily might’ve advised Elvira not to leave – to heed their King’s command, and to stay and care for her child who could not survive without her. If she’d not been drowning in grief over the death of another child, she might have noticed that something was off about Elvira’s state of mind, and perhaps have tried to help her. But, she did as Elvira asked, even though it felt wrong.

When the tiny filly woke and stood to suckle, Tigerlily could not prevent the tears welling in her eyes, and she groaned internally, gasping at the crushing weight she felt upon her ribs, squeezing the air from her lungs. It hurt so much. The milk that sustained the helpless daughter of a stranger was meant for her son, the son of Dances With Wolves, to help him grow strong. But he was gone, and Tigerlily would never get him back. It was all Tigerlily could do to stand beside little Elerona, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at the filly in this moment, and even if she knew what to say, her throat was so dry and constricted, she didn’t think the words would make it out.