Bacardi had worried when Kesja had left to live with her real sire, that she would no longer see him as such. But when the little mare called him father with the same warmth she had always given, those worries melted away like snow. It seemed those affections were limited though, as she called her mother by name instead. Bacardi tried to remain unaffected by it, his ears only briefly flicking with surprise. What was between mother and daughter was not for him to come between. Instead, her confession left him with another knife twisting in his gut.


As Falda moved around him in his brief pause, comforting her sister, he could see where Kesja might think that he didn’t want her. That he might have even replaced her with a child of his actual blood. But that wasn’t the case, not in the slightest. Nor could he ever imagine Valka sending her away because of her lingering feelings for Solomon.


“You were sent away because it was time that you truly met your sire.” Bacardi finally said as he gathered his words. Though the happy gleam in his eyes had faded some, hating that she had ever thought he didn’t want her, the stallion still hoped to convey as much warmth as he felt on the inside for her as he reached out to try and press his muzzle against her cheek. “You are always wanted, daughter. If there was not such tension between Solomon and I, then I would not have waited for you to come home.” Bacardi would have gone to her instead. Things could never be as simple as that.


The gentle affection was needed, but Bacardi doubted the daughter of Valka would want to linger on it. So, the painted stallion blew out a heavy breath, playfully tussling Kesja’s forelock. Hoping he could lift her spirits now that she knew she had not been cast aside.

six years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the bay.

"...speech"