With their departure from Atlantis, and the changing of seasons, both the uncertainty of their immediate future and the fact that even with Telperion not yet mature, Clio quickly showed signs that she was in foal. It was an unfortunate combination of circumstances, they weighed on Clio and made her snappy and distant with Carthage, but she'd have her moments, when she'd seek him out, wherever he lingered nearby, watching over her, their son, and the others who were with them.
Time passed, and then late one night, Clio was pulled from her sleep by a ripple of pain. With a suppressed groan of pain, she stumbled away from where Telperion slumbered, though not going too far. Twitching at every sound in the forest around them, she resigned herself to calling softly for Carthage. This birth, thank the heavens, went as smoothly as her first had, and she was up on her feet even quicker, ushering their newborn daughter to her hooves, and guiding her back to the sheltered little grove on wobbly legs.
Though the labor had not dragged out, birthing in such an open area had certainly worn her down, so that she was exhausted none-the-less. Clio hardly spared Carthage a glance, just wanting to get back to Telperion and close her eyes and rest with the newborn Terpsichore tucked in alongside her. But she paused, and half turning back, she had murmured a weary "Thank you, Carthage."
Days passed, and then weeks, and the white legged bay filly grew strong, and began to show her spirit - considerate of those around her and quiet, bold when accompanying her brother on adventures, and as nervous at times as Clio had been, when she'd been carrying Terpsichore in her belly.
Clio spent much of her daylight hours keeping close watch over the children Carthage had blessed her with, but after dusk fell, and they both slept soundly. she'd seek for her stallion - an ever present shadow darker than the night. To keep him company, or make small talk. Seek to learn of what he planned, accepting how much he deigned to share with her. Something had begun to shift the past few nights however, with Terpsichore going stronger by the day, and no danger having come near them under Carthage’s vigilant guard.
“I was uncertain at first,” Clio spoke softly as she approached him now in the quiet of the night, slipping through the shadows, as luminous as the moon even in the low light. Carthage was not far from where she’d been soothing their children to sleep, and it was close enough that she had no prickle of apprehension, for the night was still, and with Carthage there, and the other few that remained with him, it was safe. “About staying here, in a land so open and accessible to anyone.”
She’d had more reason than most to be concerned. But now?
“I must say I’ve grown to appreciate it, for the way it’s brought us closer,” the white mare’s voice dropped low, and slipped smoothly from her lips as she stepped nearer, and sought to tuck herself alongside the larger black stallion, reaching to press her lips to the muscled arch of Carthage’s neck in something of a delicate kiss.
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