As Naz had done for me, I stayed close to my dear friend Eness as her pregnancy drew to a close. I did my best to hide my worry behind a mask of warmth, knowing that my fears and my doubts would only complicate things for her. But my worry was never far from my mind. My delight at her condition had waned as I watched her stomach balloon far beyond the point that my own had. Not only was my dear Eness a first-time mother, but I could not help the certainty that struck me that something was very, very different about this pregnancy.

Her silken shoulder pressed against mine now as her unease intensified, and I shared a warm smile at her commentary. "Already he is like his mother," I offer, and press a gentle touch of reassurance against her neck. Near to me, the palomino healer fusses over her medicines and salves, providing no commentary unless spoken to. Clearly, something troubled her, but she seemed reluctant to share, her mind on things far away from here.

Hours pass in that strange, anxious twilight of before birth. Despite Aminah's existence, my knowledge of birth was limited at best, and not much suited to helping anyone else, but I did my best. I brushed the sweat from Eness' brow when it collected in her temples and drew reassuring circles against the gentle slope of her withers when the contractions eased. Some time later, it is Sidika's low hum of dismay that alerts me to a change, and I turn to view a child's rump as begins to finally enter the world.

"Push now," Sidika says, urgency in her tone and her face tight with what I had come to recognize as worry. I had not spent much time with the enigmatic healer woman, but I knew that she was a woman not given lightly to emotion.

I can see the worry that slides over Eness' face and I shush it away, my own brow creased in concern. "You can do this, Eness. It is nearly over." Again I try to comfort her, my gaze now locked on the dark shape at her hind limbs. Sidika is nearly silent, fully absorbed in rousing the unmoving bundle of child. I watch silently as she rips the infant from the sack that encases him, and only just manages to move him slightly far enough away so that it's quickly sibling (my heart catches in surprise) does not land directly upon their sibling's head.

Please fetch Atair, she says and I smile, remembering that deep need to share the moment with my beloved. Sidika tsks to the side, clearly not wanting to encourage such an early interaction. I supposed it was possible that too much of anything - emotion, movement, and so on, might be bad for Eness, but I couldn't bring myself to deny her. After the stress of birthing two rambunctious boys, I would be hard-pressed to deter the lovers from seeking the comfort of each other.

Hardly has the thought to permit such a thing crossed my mind before such an action becomes inconsequential. Already the black stallion is charging upon us, his worry fading quickly to awe and then to pride. It warms me to see such a thing, but I draw back with Sidika to allow the new mother time to acquaint each member of her family with the other. The speed with which she has seemed to recover is surprising to me, and a twinge of guilt twists at my heart as I remember Aminah's birth. I had hoarded our precious daughter to myself for nigh on an hour before my Beloved was allowed close; the evidence of my selfish behavior now thrown into contrast by Eness's readiness to share the gift with her own. In truth, it should not bother me. After all, it is custom in both herds to allow a new mother time to recuperate, but it stings nonetheless.

Almost as much as the fact that Eness has delivered not one, but two healthy sons to Atair. I know in my heart that neither I nor Antares regret our beloved daughter, and yet she is a daughter, not a son. Her place is at the side of a great leader, not at the forefront and it burns me to be reminded of my failure once more.

I step back with Sidika to thank her, and then watch quietly as she departs into the shadows. Perhaps I should have bid her stay, if only give her more permanence in our herd in the wake of Maslakhat's departure. I knew she struggled, even if she did not say as much. Her forays into the herd had become fewer, her sojourns more remote. Even her bright-eyed son was harder to find, despite the inky shadow of his coat as he moved amongst the dunes.

Absently I move to my Beloved's side, my lips still wearing a smile despite the thoughts whirling in my mind. I bid each of my brothers a hello as I take my place at the side of my Sheik, my gaze still studiously trained on the quartet as they greet each other.

Atair finds me then with his voice and his words and I nod, although my understanding of all of these customs and names and policies and procedures has only grown more dim with time. There is so much to learn of their intricate policies that I find myself in a position of power that seems only to be comprised of nodding in acceptance as my brothers make their dreams come true. "You have my blessing, dear brother. As do they, and your beautiful wife."

Content then, I lapse into silence, my shoulder brushing that of my Beloved as I watch the new family move forward into the light.