Exhausted as she was, Aurelie did not dream, did not rouse, did not stir. She slept deeply, making up for the nights of uneasy, worried sleep now that she had the fresh scent of their newborn daughter filling her nostrils, reassuring her that all was well. Her heart craved Zevulun's touch, to show him and their older children their newest baby sister, but she could not have kept herself standing for another moment. Could not have even begun to navigate bringing their baby girl to the herd, or for the conflicting storm of emotions that always happened the first time a stranger came near her newborn.

The cremello's soft summons tugged her gently back from the precipice of sleep and she roused slowly, blinking against the afternoon light as reality crept back in. Her cheek was damp where it had pressed against the wet earth and her body felt stiff and sore, the muscles of her abdomen particularly tight. She rolled onto her chest by instinct, blowing out a long, pained breath as her gaze found the love of her life. "Zev," she murmured, stretching her muzzle toward his, though she made no move to rise immediately.

"She's here," she says, perhaps still too addled by sleep to realize she is stating the obvious as well as skipping over his question. She pulls away from the cremello stallion to skim her muzzle over their daughter's skinny frame, not yet old enough to have filled out in the slightest. Though Aurelie had given birth more than once now, she still marveled at how tiny their little girl was, all legs and ears and eyes.

"I'm sorry," she murmured a moment later, a flush of guilt staining her cheeks. "I was so tired I needed just a moment before I called for you." She kept her voice pitched low so as not to wake their daughter just yet, her gaze lifting back to Zevulun's. "You can wake her if you want?"