Kvothe had held both her silence and Brunhild’s gaze beneath the grey mare’s scrutiny, breaking both only when the moment was permitted to pass. The chestnut Friesian wasn’t certain what she had done wrong, but was certain that she’d felt the weight of the other mare’s judgement - and disappointment - nevertheless. Invisible beneath the ember shade of her coat, a flush of blood pooled in her cheeks, and she stared at the soil beneath her hooves as if it held a myriad of fascinations. Perhaps Ironclad’s sibling did not approve of the meaning that had lingered beneath her too-bold words. Perhaps Brunhild felt that the Warrior Queen was a better match for the handsome young Prince than a timid and disfigured mare. Of course, the greying girl had been kind to her in the beginning, so Kvothe could not be certain that her doubts were not self-made.

And so, in the interest of maintaining harmony, she held those close, too.

Thankfully, Lakota’s arrival had not only provided a distraction from this brief tension, but also gave this gathering a purpose to focus their attention on. Ironclad in particular seemed moved to urgency, and the tall, slender chestnut was restless enough that she was glad of it. She would be glad, too, to leave Atlantis behind her - particularly if they never had cause to return. Picking up on Lakota’s spirited energy, Kvothe tossed her head and clawed at the earth with a single hoof, pausing only at the filly’s gentle touch. A warm smile was offered in response to the red girl - she truly was fond of her - but before Kvothe could press her lips to the arch of the filly’s neck as she had intended, Lakota had backed away. Feeling the sting of dual rejections now - though she sensed that the girl’s stemmed more from uncertainty than anything else - the tall mare abandoned her attempts at making friends for now. Perhaps later, in the comfort of their home, things would change for the better. She had to believe that they would - that their family could truly become a family, and not drift apart like flotsam pulled along by the tides.

Speaking of the sea, her Prince was ushering them towards the waves - an act briefly interrupted by the antics of the fledgling filly. Kvothe was not entirely able to suppress the bubble of laughter that forced its way past her lips at the sight of Ironclad chasing the girl in a decidedly undignified manner, and remained unrepentant for it even after the exasperated stallion had finally taken point. Dark eyes still glimmering with laughter, she winked at Lakota and decided that they would need to entice him into a game of come-and-get-me sometime. Later, perhaps, after she had time to rest from the journey. When they had the wide, open expanse near the Inlet’s shore to race up and down, stopping only once the combination of laughter and exertion had spent every breath of air in their lungs.

By the time that they arrived, Kvothe was forced to abandon that dream in its entirety. Halfway through their swim, the cramping pains of her labor had resumed. Only this time, they continued to build in strength instead of fading. This time, too, it was joined by the irrational - but undeniable - urge to draw away from the ones that she loved. To go somewhere distant and quiet, and yield control of her body to this part of her that seemed to just know what to do. And as she pulled herself wearily up the shore - expression brightening at the familiar landmarks that greeted their group - Kvothe knew where she would go. She would return to the clearing, to complete the circle that she and Ironclad had begun in the Fall.

And when she returned, perhaps the circle of their family would be completed, too.

Curling her body inward upon itself at the feeling of another contraction, Kvothe would have gladly fled without explanation. But she knew that Ironclad would only worry, and follow, unless he knew the reason behind her sudden departure. Pressing her muzzle to the paling stallion’s neck to capture his attention, she felt a jolt in her abdomen like a vigorous kick, and murmured softly to the yet-unborn child. “Patience, little one.” Then louder, so that her Prince - and anyone else who may have lingered close - could hear her. “I will return soon, love.” No explanation was offered, but she hoped that it wouldn’t prove to be necessary. Time was short - Kvothe didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

And so she turned and headed for the forest at a lope, feeling another bubble of laughter rise up within her at the memory of their lively chase those months ago. By comparison, she must look very awkward and graceless now - and nothing at all like the mare who had first arrived here. But perhaps that was for the better.

Perhaps she had been marked for death as Narene had claimed. Perhaps it had been her destiny to die on some foreign shore - and then rise again from the ashes, as fearless and new as the soon-to-be-born foal within her.