And I didn’t want to be cast aside like trash by the mare who birthed me- Their stories were wildly different, but at Riesling’s first words, the shock that reflected across Zevulun’s face quickly changed into something unreadable. For once, the stallion who always wore his heart across his expression became somewhat guarded. Zevulun had been abandoned by his mother when he was barely old enough to survive without her; his father refused to allow him to think or speak badly of her, but would never give a proper reason as to why she’d left. It created something inside Zevulun that’d become desperate for love and so willing to give it all away when he found someone he felt something like that for.

He had never known any of this about Riesling. Her story was written behind walls and walls of stone; it’d taken him years for small chips and cracks to break way beneath his constant presence and attentiveness, giving him the tiniest hints to what life she’d left behind. Now he felt like stones were sinking in his stomach and his mouth felt as dry as if he’d walked across Salem ten times over without ever pausing for a drink. His heart broke for her, and broke for the fact that he couldn’t express that in any way that wouldn’t offend her. On one side of the matter he could wish she’d never had to grow up in an environment that had taught her such cruel lessons so young, but then… It made her who she was and despite her prickliness, Zevulun loved her exactly for that.

But her mother, the mare he had brought to the Prairie, did not seem like the sort to abandon her child. Not that Zevulun didn’t believe Riesling, because he did, the conviction and rage across her face was too honest to be fake… but… he also was beginning to explore the idea that even the worst could reflect and change their ways. Maybe it was one of his fool-headed, ignorant thoughts, but he thought of her standing protectively with her young son, of her talking in small hints of a hard past lived… Maybe whatever sorrows she’d faced over the years had changed her from who she’d been when she’d treated Riesling so cruelly. His head spun, thrown in too many places all at once.

Then, Daire began to speak.

Zevulun’s throat tightened, and he wondered if he’d ever had a moment in his life where he felt more torn. The emotions he had developed for Riesling were not so easily snuffed out for what may have begun budding with Daire; but the sorrow that shook Daire’s voice now and the way she pressed on, offering apologies where she knew they would not be accepted…

He remembered Ysabel, telling him the pain she and her mother suffered because of his abandonment, even if he hadn’t intended it. He remembered Mariael telling him that she wanted to talk to him about what she’d done, about what had happened with their father; he remembered turning his back on her, promising her he’d come back to hear her out, but his heart had never felt ready. It’d been two years. Almost three.

He thought of himself, of the sad little abandoned colt he was inside, getting to hear those words from his mother that Riesling was hearing now. The apology he’d always felt he deserved; that he’d always secretly daydreamed of having back when he was young and scampering throughout the Bay’s forest. Zevulun’s eyes flicked up to Riesling and he knew it wouldn’t matter. He knew even if Daire was being truthful (which he believed she was), Riesling could not and would not accept anything she was saying.

But he could hear the way Daire’s voice had tightened and could see the sweat gathering in her armpits and along her side. He frowned, glancing more closely at her. This looked like more than it was some anxiety at facing this difficult conversation… Zevulun had only been present for very few births of his children given that mares often chose to birth them alone, but with horror, he suspected Daire was possibly going into labor. He glanced at her to Riesling and wished, for her, that he was a crueler man. What an odd thing to wish for, wasn’t it? That, even in spite of Daire's apparent condition, learning how Riesling mistrusted her, he could change his mind and cast the mare away from the Prairie, deny her the sanctuary previously promised.

The most he could manage was not asking if Daire was okay, but the words were on his tongue. It was all too obvious as he glanced worriedly across her swollen sides and avoided looking at Riesling. Even without him saying it, she’d know he was worried over the condition of the woman she so clearly hated, and apparently, rightfully so.