Relief courses through her when the voice that responds is not only friendly but familiar. She and Fearne had shared a lovely chat that day, and Corvette had never forgotten it. Even during the long months of pregnancy when she'd felt like she was the only one walking through these lonely pines apart from Fell, she hadn't forgotten her friend's face.

She chuckled nervously as Fearne recognized her and tried not to feel too self-conscious about asking for help. She hadn't ever really been around a mare that had given birth, given that she was basically the youngest of the siblings that had travelled with Ironclad and had not yet settled into a herd herself. She knew the gist... more or less, and had been assured that instinct would assist in filling in the gaps where she didn't know what to do, but that didn't feel like enough. She didn't want to do anything to hurt her baby by accident.

It was only when the white-rumped mare gestured toward the sleeping child at her feet that Corvette realized she wasn't alone and a wave of emotion - not wholly appropriate to the situation - washed over her and she teared up at the sight of the slumbering newborn. She was so precious and small and perfect that all Vette wanted to do was rouse her to snuggle her, even though she bore no relation to the little child.

She resisted the urge of course, and leaned into Fearne's question, nodding. "Yes, my first." Everything else she'd planned to add to that, including the explanation she wanted to offer for her nervousness, was put on pause as she grit her teeth and braced through another contraction. Panting when it passed, she gathered herself and tried to explain. "I was the last in my little herd," she elaborated, her brow furrowing as she shifted her weight, trying to ease the discomfort. "I've never been around anyone else while it was happening so I just have... stories to go on."

And it wasn't as though mothers often wanted to elaborate on the harrowing parts of birth.

"Your sixth, you said?" She said by way of confirmation, grasping onto anything else to talk about other than the overwhelming prospect of her own imminent delivery. "Was it hard?" A silly, naive question, perhaps, but a genuine one nonetheless.