For the most part Fiero was alone with his thoughts, spare for the overhead calls of the seagulls that were riding the salty twinged air above him and the gentle crash of the water against sand that was currently racing up to kiss his hooves and drop a rather pleasant surprise right in front of where he’d stopped to enjoy the morning sun.

His ears perk up at the drenching wet sight of his daughter who’d been haphazardly deposited on his path by the ocean herself, and while part of him wondered how she managed to escape her mother’s watchful gaze the other half has him looking from her to hopefully land his eyes on the furious eyes of his mate for even breathing the same air as the filly at his hooves. Only the sandy dunes are what grace his sights, the long teasing grasses that decorate them shimmy and shake in the wind but they yield no hidden bodies.

Papa

She has his full attention back with that one word, golden eyes warm with affection as they watch the girl scramble to right herself but Fiero holds himself back from laughing as it seemed she had more to say, not that he understand much of the language his lovely mate spoke but over the seasons he’d begun to understand bits and pieces to properly hold his own in conversation. Catalina mentions mama and something along the lines of not telling?

He snorts into the face of baby blue eyes that tear his heart even more apart the longer he stares into them. She had him right where she wanted him, just like her true father. “pace piccola colomba, “ he croons down to her, reaching to tug at the little tuft of hair between her curly tipped ears, showing her that he was neither mad or going to rat her out just yet. If anything he’d let switch come to find them herself. For now though he is eager to spend time with his daughter.

“My little dove,” his warm tones are loving as he checks her over from her tumble in the surf, brushing drying salt from her skin with his gentle nose until he is satisfied she looks okay. “Mama doesn't have to know, but if i am to hold onto this secret of yours then you must beat me in a race my dear,” Fiero has a look of mock seriousness on his face when peering down at Catalina, mischief and amusement swirling in that wolfish gaze of his. He’d let her win of course, not that he planned to tell switch anything of this morning unless she were to stumble across them or Fuego decided to rat them out first.

He gestures down the beach a ways in the direction he wanted her to run, “we shall race up to where the dunes have fallen away just ahead. I’ll even let you get a headstart my dear.” He readies himself, a dramatic show of tossing his head with a laugh and digging into the dirt with his hooves that would let him shoot onward just as she soon as she went racing on. He’d aim to keep her moving by nipping at her heels in mock play but never letting himself take that extra stride to move past her.