He could not keep the smile from melting across his pink lips as Aurélie reached for him, her eyelids still heavy with sleep and the exhaustion still worn on her, despite what rest she’d gotten. He moved carefully, as if painfully aware of every large inch of himself, trying to make sure he wasn’t too quick or too loud, to get closer to her and brush his muzzle tenderly against hers. All the worries that’d been plaguing him as of late (and oh, there were so many) seemed to lessen the moment he had Aurélie’s sweet scent across his muzzle and his skin was still warm with her touch. Knowing she was alright, he glanced then at their child, another perfect, beautiful daughter, and couldn’t help the way his smile grew with pride.

He had been blessed now to see many children of his born among the Prairie grasses; to watch them grow strong as they romped and played among the hills. Yet every single time the first sight of them always took his breath away and made him feel so small. His pink-lined ear flicked as Aurélie apologized and he was quick to offer a reassuring hush as his glacial blues moved from their daughter and to her. “It’s alright,” he replied, voice still low as well, though he could see their little girl’s ear flick, and her eyes move under her still-closed eyelids. The soft noises of her parents talking must’ve been slowly rousing her, but just as giving birth was hard work, so was being born, and she was still fast asleep tucked up close to her mother.

Aurélie offered Zevulun the chance to be the one who roused her and, as much as he would have loved to deny it so she could keep sleeping, he really did want to meet his newest little girl. He smiled briefly at Aurélie before he lowered his head, stretching his muzzle out to hover over their daughter’s little body, taking in her sweet new scent and blowing warm grass-scented breaths across her body. She was pale and white, much like himself, but he could see the bold stripe along her back where her pattern didn’t disrupt, and a faint, smoky brown darkness up her limbs that he wondered might darken with age.

As he brushed his lips softly over the little wisps of hair she had for a mane, the little girl stirred finally, blinking her eyelids rapidly as she jerked her head upright. Zevulun moved his face away to avoid being knocked in the head, and couldn’t help but chuckle gently as she looked with wide eyes at him, then at her mother, then back again. “Well hello, sweet girl,” he beckoned with a loving whisper, voice still low and soft as if he was afraid to speak too loudly and disrupt the peace that lay like a warm, comforting blanket over this moment.

The filly didn’t make any move to try and get her long legs under her to stand, but she did stretch her neck out, ears forward as she decided to inspect her father a little closer. Zevulun lowered his face to give her the opportunity to brush her baby-whiskers over his skin and tickle him with little sweet milk-warm breaths. Once she’d taken account of him he gently nudged her cheek and found another soft chuckle bubbling out from his lungs.

He could almost weep for how beautiful and perfect this moment was and for how badly he’d been yearning for a moment like this lately.

“She’s perfect, Aurélie,” he said once their girl tucked her face back and tilted her head at them both, surveying the two first horses in her life and the ones who would always remain the most important to her. “You did so well,” he added, and smiled at one of his loyal, truest loves, feeling like he was falling in love with her all over again.