For once, everything was right in her world. She had Roisin and she could not be torn from the tiny perfection that was her second daughter; the light of her dimmed the importance of the drama that still swelled within the ranks of their herd. Objectively she knew that Nyimara's absence and Ysabel's departure were important, as was Sigurdr's heartbreak at his dam's disappearance, but it paled in comparison to the wonder of her daughter. She knew the mares needed to band together to solidify against the dangers of the world, to make the Ridge strong once more, but it was hard to care about anyone else when her daughter was growing with leaps and bounds at her side.
Every day brought new accomplishments to celebrate and she cheered the precocious toddler on with delight, unwilling to risk Roisin doubting her mother's love for one moment.
But life had a way of interceding. As the newborn scent departed Roisin's skin, responsibility reasserted itself in the red mare and she was back to her normal post near the ocean line. From somewhere upwind, Siobhan caught the familiar scents of a birthing mare, but did not know the individual. She roused her sleeping daughter, not wanting her to be caught unaware if one of the big cats were to try to take advantage, and moved up the beach.
Siobhan had no desire to interrupt the unknown mare, but she would remain near to offer support if it was needed. Roisin nursed, and then entertained herself with the various shells on the beach, collecting various ones to show her mother before running off to find something even more extravagant. Hours pass in this fashion until a call from the Ridge's general reverberates in the air, full of terror and anguish.
Fearing the worst, Siobhan gathers her daughter and races down the beach until at last the trio becomes visible around a behind. It does not take long to assess the scene. The mare - one that she has not yet seen - lay prone and unmoving while the golden she sparred with only days ago lurked over the newborn foal. Instinct makes her fear the worst and she rushes forward with ears pinned, threatening the male away from helpless newborn before rational thought kicks back in.
He would have no reason to call for her if he meant the infant harm. She can see where he has tried to peel the child free with no instinct to guide him and she warms to the stallion slightly, although she does not hesitate to ward him away from the infant with pinned ears and a mareish expression.
"Who is she Ailill?" The red mare casts a pained expression toward the unmoving mare before devoting the rest of her attention to the newborn filly. The girl is pale and spotted, and adorable fuzz already apparent all over her body and Sio warms to her instantly. It is impossible for the red mare to not love any child, but this one is lost and alone, as she once was.
"Easy love." She murmurs to the foal as she cleans her, efficiently raking her tongue over the filly's figure to spur her to move. Thankfully it is warm here in Atlantis and they do not need to worry about the chill, as Tinuvel mares would. When the foal moves she turns her attention back to Ailill, belatedly realizing she was perhaps slightly rude to the golden stallion.
She had not yet recovered her trust in strange males, and while she had opted to spar with him for practice, his presence still made her uncomfortable. He'd been nothing but a gentleman, but Cullen had left a long scar in the Ridge.
"Is she yours?" Siobhan asks, her gaze flicking up to Ailill before resting once more on the newborn. Roisin pressed close to her side, multi-hued eyes wide with both wonder and fear. She desperately wanted to meet both of these creatures - the tall stallion that looked nothing like her father and the small filly - but the too-still figure of the mare made her uncomfortable so she waited at her dam's haunches, her own feet dampened by the gentle rush of the ocean edge.