Even with the decision made to trust Fell in this as she had with all other aspects of her life, the tobiano mare remained hyper-aware of where her lover was. She didn't think Fell would harm their son, but she had spent hours and hours prior to giving birth worrying about the thousands of other things that might happen. An errant hoof placed in the wrong place could cripple their child for life. Rolling too wildly could land an adult on top of an inquisitive little one, or a curious nose poked into a flower could disrupt a bee that could sting him and send him into shock, and then to death. She was pretty sure there were more things that could harm him at this point than there were safe things in the world.

She turned to look at him as he moved away, both fear and apology writ across her face. Despite how close she had been to warding him away with pinned ears and bared teeth only seconds ago, Kohelet didn't want to be alone. She craved Fell's attention and affection just as much now as she did before, if not more so. Not only because she assumed the wolves were still out there, but also because she was terrified at the prospect of being a mother. Deliriously happy, too, but still terrified.

She was going to mess him up somehow, she didn't know how yet.

Her expression turned baffled as he began to lower himself, and as he joined her on the dirt in an irrefutable display of solidarity, prompting tears of appreciation to leak from her eyes. Already emotional from the birth of their child and the terror of the night, she could barely hold in her adoration as she stretched her muzzle out to brush whatever part of him that she could reach. "I'm sorry," she blubbered softly, sniffling through a fluttery smile. "I- I didn't mean it."

Movement from in front of her drew her gaze back to their son, and her smile broadened as she stretched forward again to resume cleaning him off. There were so many small details for her to memorize, and she hungrily cataloged each small perfect piece of him as if she were going to face a quiz upon it later. She ran her lips along the wispy fluff of his mane, the ends of which had just begun to dry and lift from his slender neck, and then pressed kisses against the whorl of his star.

"You're perfect," she murmured to him, not yet knowing if he would be mute like his father or carry some other, invisible handicap. She resumed tending to him, pulling the sack away from his impossibly long black legs and cleaning him as much as she could, even going so far as to scrape at his little shoulder with her teeth to prompt a response should he grow too quiet. She didn't want to hurt him, but instinct demanded that she not let him grow complacent so early. Not, at least, until he'd stood and fed.