Esther is still shocked - this seems too good to be true. A single night of passion, of his body pressed to hers, was all she had ever expected. She’d hoped for more, of course, hoped to see him again, but Esther knows herself well - she’s never wanted to settle in a single place, submit to living in the same place, with the same herd. So she’d chalked the whole experience up to a single, blissful evening and nothing more. Things have changed, of course, even more than expected - a foal, and SIgurdr here, speaking the words she aches to hear. He wanted to find her again? He missed her? It’s...it’s a lot. She’s only just coming to terms with the fact that she carries a foal; now to also come to terms with the fact that he wants more from her? She takes a deep, shaky breath and closes her eyes.
He speaks, and she lets the soothing baritone of his voice wash over her, trying to desperately grasp at the tantalizing edge of calm, of hope, promised within. She’d been worried about being alone, right? Well, now she’s not alone; she has Sigurdr. She’d been worried about having nowhere to go - she has wherever it is he calls home, at least to ride out the winter. “I never thought...I just assumed you wouldn’t want to see me again.” Esther confesses; there’s no self-pity in her tone, only a bald statement of facts given the way they’d left things.
She lets out a choked little sob when he mentions being there for the both of them, because right now she certainly doesn’t feel like any sort of both. Esther feels like herself, but like she has a bigger threat to her own safety looming, something greater than she’s ever faced before. Whatever surge of maternal instinct she sort of always assumed came naturally when staring down the reality of becoming a mother is missing. She just feels terrified and mildly regretful, and so uncertain of the future she can’t make sense of her own jumbled thoughts. Her brain continues a thousand miles a minute, thinking of her past, of what a foal will mean for her life. There might have been a moment when she could have ignored it - pretended she wasn’t pregnant until she gave birth, and pass the foal off to some mare who would play it as twins. But Sigurdr knows now; the only option is to keep it, and to never ever let such shameful imaginings see the light of day. Esther wouldn’t be able to handle the disappointment in his gaze, if she ever voiced her half-formed, desperately imagined plan.
For a short, almost instant moment, Sigurdr looks as surprised as she is, shock coloring his handsome features, and perhaps even a hint of terror in his striking blue eyes. She doesn’t have time to let that spiral her further, because he’s reaching out then, pressing his muzzle to her own. His words soothe further, and she settles more when he presses forward, wraps himself around her. The weight of his head along her back makes Esther shake in relief and she leans into the comfort of his heavy body, taking solace that has been freely given. “I don’t even have anywhere to spend the winter,” she finally chokes out, voice breaking on the words. “You don’t...I didn’t think you had a home either?” Maybe she’s wrong - not everyone is as alone as she is. A mother, a father, a distant cousin or a sibling of his could hold a territory, or perhaps an ally that would let them tuck away in a secure place, at least until the foal could travel with her. “I nearly starved last year,” Esther rushes out desperately. “I can’t spend a winter on the Crossing pregnant - I won’t make it.”