There is always a seed of worry that lodges just beneath her breastbone at every single birth. There are so many things that could go wrong that she was simply not equipped to deal with. If the child refused to turn and came breach, both mother and child could be lost. If the birth took too long and the child was not freed in time to take their first breath the baby could suffocate inside the mother. If the child was too vigorous on the way out, the mother could bleed to death before she even rose to nurse her child for the first time. And the worries didn't even end once the child was safely on the ground.

A catalog of fears scrolled by in the back of her mind, close enough to keep her cautious and watchful, but not so close as to radiate even a micron of that unease on her face. Fear was like a snowball. If she portrayed it, or even reflected any of that which shone on Merwerit's face, it would only continue to grow and exacerbate any problems that cropped up. The safest way was always to stay calm, even while everything fell apart around you.

Not that she believed that would be the case this time. Merwerit was young, and in her experience, youth often led to dramatics, especially in desert breeds. Her people were fierce in everything that they did, even in feeling, although such theatrics had long along been tamped down in Sidika. She turns to listen attentively as Merwerit struggles to articulate her fears, but she thinks she catches on well enough. "This is your first child, yes?"

She asks the question more to give Mer something to focus on that wasn't the changes in her own body. Sidika well remembered how it had felt as the birth had progressed - almost as though her own body had no longer belonged to her but a stranger. She is pleased to see the mare quickly consume the aloe that Geçersiz provides, despite the unpleasant taste and grows ever more certain that the mare's worries are based in fear rather than any true danger.

Still, problems are more likely to come in maiden mares than in second time mothers, and she needs Merwerit to calm down in order to make the birth go smoothly. Gently she touches a reassuring brush over the mare's shoulder before frowning at the straps that still constrain her. Sidika, never having had the displeasure of human contact, is not entirely certain of their purpose, but she has watched from afar as Maslakhat has slowly stripped each piece of tack from her body. The straps that encircle her breast pose no risk to the process itself, but she fears for the child's eventual inquisitive nature.

If Geçersiz has taught her anything, it is that infants have no concept of personal space. Even now her little panther is nosing closer to the strange pearly mare, his small charcoal muzzle probing at her shoulder and the self-same contraption she's just been considering. There's nothing for it. It will simply have to come off before the bebek is born and it will be far easier to do so now than when she is tired and frustrated and wants nothing to do with a fussy herd member.

"Here, stand." She says as she stretches forward to tug awkwardly at the straps that encircle her. They remind her of plant stems, stiff but yielding and with some careful manipulation of her teeth she manages to finally saw through the leather pieces and gently lifts it over her head. "There. Now bebek won't get caught."

A rare smile flits across her lips and she turns away momentarily to toss the thing aside. Her son immediately begins to play with it, and while she does keep an ear cocked toward him in case he injures himself, a part of her is happy he has something else to distract him. Sid has heard the arrival of Maslakhat, and is internally debating the pros and cons of keeping her son here. She hopes that he will some day be as accomplished of a healer, if not more so, than herself, but she worries that keeping him here through what might be a difficult birth will scar him to the process.

She wants more than anything to keep him at her side. Her little panther is precious to her, and the thought of not being at his side, even for this short amount of time, is daunting. She has not allowed him out of her sight since he took his first breath, and even now the mere thought of trusting Maslakhat with his well being makes her antsy.

Ultimately, it is practicality that wins. She does not like being apart from her son, but there was something to be said for not having him underfoot during the process. Plus, it may help to soothe the father that waits just beyond sight. His timely arrival tells her all she needs to know about how much he cares for this mare and this child, and it warms her.

"Tatlım, go to baba. Quick," With a mischevious flick of his tail, the colt grabs the discarded breastband and races up the sanddunes, eager to spend more time with his father. Sidika watches him go with a stony expression, struggling to not let her emotions show on her face. Turning back to the pearl mare she gestures again to the rushes. "Lay when ready. Is no rush. Bebek will say when its time."

---

It is awkward for him to run with the ungainly item, but he manages as best as he can, taking a sideways path up the dune. When he crests it, tail arched proudly over his dark back, he turns back to look at his mother with pride. She did not show much on her face, she never did, but Ger could feel her eyes on him, and knew the love that existed deep within.

With a shrill whinny he greeted his father and raced pell mell down the other side, a bright grin on his lips. He settles to a halt before him, dropping the prized breast band with a wide grin. "Baba, she is free now." One slender forelimb stretches out to scrape at the edge of it before he turns back to his father. "It is like a snake, only dead."