Bacardi had been a father several times over now (even to a few that weren’t his blood) and it was not the first time he had heard of this worry. It was only natural, he thought, for something so life changing and yet out of their control. He breathes out a soft sigh, before offering a gentle reassuring smile. “From what I’ve learned, every birth is as different as each foal.” he replied. “But no matter the outcome, you have a family here to support you.” Bacardi had made sure of it. That the residents in the Forest were not prisoners, or simply numbers to make up a herd. They were a family, even if some were more recluse than others.


“This is a nice spot.” the stallion said, briefly looking away from Keating to gaze around the grove. It was quiet, secluded, but not very far from everyone else. He was sure he had passed through here at some point, but he hadn’t taken the time to truly look at it before. “Is this where you plan to birth?” he asked, his golden eyes finally resting on Keating again. Black rimmed ears perking forward, he was clearly interested, where some stallions might not be.

mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the forest.

"...speech"