Kvothe might have anticipated that her Prince would not be placated by her abrupt farewell, and the promise to return to his side soon.

A part of her was relieved to hear the sounds of his pursuit, but the slender chestnut knew it to be a selfish impulse. She had hoped to spare Ironclad from witnessing the pain that rolled through her abdomen like a grasping tide - pain that she knew he would share. Regardless of the comfort and courage his presence would lend her, it could not be worth allowing the greying stallion to endure the trial of birth alongside her. It was her own burden to bear - a sacrifice she would make gladly in order to repay even a small measure of what she had been given. A home, happiness, and now a family to replace the one that had been torn from her. How could she ask for anything more, with the scales already tipped so far to one side? She could give him a lifetime of her loyalty and devotion, and never repay a single day of the life he’d given her.

Particularly the day that filled her mind - the beginning of a cycle that was quickly nearing both its end and beginning.

But just as she had surrendered herself to him in the clearing - and every day since - it was only natural that she yielded to him now. Having reached the edge of the trees, the red mare began to slow until she stopped, breathless, just within the embrace of their shadows. Her Prince lingered just outside the forest’s boundary - a solitary figure standing in the light that she knew he would readily abandon for her sake. And if that was what he truly desired, she would not deny him. Could not deny him, even though the panic in his voice set her own heart aching in response. “Don’t be afraid, Ironclad,” she murmured in the same soft voice she’d undoubtedly use to comfort her own child. Perhaps she would have been swayed from her chosen course as well, to touch her muzzle gently to his cheek - if not for the powerful contraction that left her panting and paralyzed until it had passed.

“Don’t be afraid,” she repeated when it was over. “He’s just impatient, that’s all. You were right, he wanted to come home, and now that we’re here he’s ready to see it for himself.” Kvothe could feel another contraction, and her body yearned to sprawl out on the soft, springy bed of pine needles beneath her - but she fought fiercely, and won. “I thought - the clearing -” she grunted, her words blunted by the pain until it had passed. “It seemed fitting, to let this life begin where it was begotten. But you don’t need to follow me, my Prince. No matter were you choose to be, you will fill my thoughts until it’s over.”

The moments she’d borrowed had passed, and then some. Leaving Ironclad to his decision, the chestnut Friesian turned and began to wend her way between the trees.

By the time that the light of the sun was visible again, Kvothe was staggering, and frothy sweat clung to her flanks and belly. With every one of her senses striving toward the completion of her goal, the slender mare was unaware that the first hoof had already made its appearance when she arrived in the familiar beauty of the glade. Soon after, her legs buckled and she tipped gratefully onto one side, smelling clover and alfalfa and damp earth as she labored. Her body handled the process instinctively, granting her mind the mercy of retreating to the past. As the rest of the golden filly joined the first pink hoof in greeting the world, Kvothe herself stood side-by-side with her Prince, feeling again the warmth of his touch - and the fire that it had first awakened within her.