"I can hardly stop you," Mercy said.

To that Sabah could only press her lips together in a grim smile of resignation. She settled beside Mercy and looked out over the ridge's edge to the churning sea below, while the trees creaked in the frigid wind around them. It was an overcast day, with the sea and sky the same steely shade of grey. It was a fitting accompaniment to the waves of misery that rolled off Mercy.

Then Mercy seemed to think better of the cold reception she'd offered, offering instead an apology and the beginnings of an explanation, while Sabah stood contemplatively. Her heart ached for the younger mare; she could hear the soul-deep weariness in Mercy's voice. Sabah remembered all too vividly what it was like to be young and pregnant in a strange new place, with no mother left to guide or comfort her. Did Mercy have a mother out there somewhere? Did she ache for her, as Sabah had ached—still ached—for Aysu?

Perhaps that was all Mercy needed right now: a mother. A warm touch to show her she was not alone.

Sabah stepped closer and softly rested her muzzle against Mercy's neck for a few moments, letting their shared warmth melt into each other. When she pulled away, a heavy sigh escaped her lungs.

"I understand. You have every right to feel the way you feel. This is not an ideal situation for me, either." Her thoughts turned to Acid; she hesitated, weighing how much she should divulge. The air felt charged with the things she did not say, with the things Mercy probably did not say either. "Brax… he means well, but he doesn't always think things through. He's passionate and impulsive. He takes after his mother that way."

She let out a half-hearted laugh.

"Mercy, can I ask… Do you carry his child?" Sabah's voice was gentle, probing in a cautious way. It was a delicate question to ask, she knew, even in circumstances less sensitive than this, and she had a feeling there was no love lost between Mercy and any life that stirred within her.