Despite her outward calm, Sidika's emotional compass is reluctant to settle on any singular emotion. She is proud, and fiercely so, of their son, but she also worries for him. So many trials exist for him between now and his maturity, and she cannot take his place in those trials. She is made nervous and self-conscious by Maslakhat's casual affection; it is a welcome feeling, but each brush of his muzzle brings with it waves of shame and distrust. Having spent years as little more than an accessory on the side of a herd, prized for her skills instead of her looks, she cannot help but doubt his intentions. A part of her lays in wait for him to reveal the joke to her and she is thankful that he refrains for now.

His approval of the name that she has chosen is a much easier type of praise to accept and a faint smile ghosts across her lips. It is perhaps not flattering to name her son void, as though he would be empty of something important, but it fit the black of his colt. As he shifted sideways, the dark of his coat nearly disappeared against the black of the night sky.

Quiet envelops them as her little panther returns from his hunt, sidling confidently along his father's side before falling quiet as he nursed at Sid's side. She, who was normally comfortable in the quiet, still felt as though she needed to fill it in Maslakhat's presence. He had already shown her such favor and acceptance that she wanted to repay it in the ways that she saw other mares do. Those that filled their time with idle chatter and sweet words.

"He is not your first, no?" She asks after a moment, one ear tipped toward their dark son. She has no evidence to support this theory, considering she has spent little time here and sees no other evidence of foals, but he does not strike her as the type of stallion to have waited this long for his first children. He is far too handsome and self-assured to have saved himself for her.