Sleepy Fox Hollow pumice

it wouldn't be long now. another month, perhaps two. three was stretching it.

two months then. "soon you'll be here," she whispered to the foal turning shanks and elbows into her ribcage.

always exceedingly hungry, she searched for colosseum with her dark eyes before falling to eat, whisking her flanks with a snow-covered tail.

Colosseum’s ears swiveled forward as he caught sight of Selenia. The sharpness of winter hung in the air, but it softened against her presence, her belly rounding with the telltale promise of new life. He moved toward her with clomping steps, large frame commanding but his approach gentle. For her.

Reaching her, he extended his neck, brushing his velvety muzzle against her nape. He breathed her in, catching the mingling scents of mare and foal. A low rumble of acknowledgment escaped him, a sound of greeting and curiosity.

His deep gaze dropped briefly to her belly, noting the subtle movement beneath her skin. Almost there, I'd reckon, he murmured, his voice calm and warm, what was their daddy like? His eyes returned to hers, a flicker of teasing curiosity tempered by genuine interest.

colosseum was received with a swing of the tawny ears which no longer pinned in his presence. it was soothing in a way to exchange breath with him, to scent the good greenery on his breath as his velveteen touch moved to her mane.

was it forward of him to ask, or was selenia only used to stallions taking no interest outside of themselves. "he was efficient," she decided at last. "silverbirch was born under his watch."

and this foal would be born under that of colosseum, a cycle continued.

Her answer was steady, her tone resolute, yet there was a weight in her words that tugged at something deep within him. He could not ignore it, nor did he wish to.

He had been raised differently than most stallions—by the wisdom of a cul-de-sac of mares who had taught him not dominance, but respect. Theirs was a way of nurturing strength without cruelty, of leading through steadiness rather than force. It had shaped him into what he was now: a protector, a listener, a quieter kind of presence.

His warm breath brushed against her neck as he leaned closer, offering a gentle nudge of reassurance. Then the foal will grow strong, he murmured, his deep voice carrying a quiet certainty. With you as it's mother, it couldn’t be any other way.

He stepped back slightly, his gaze soft as it lingered on her round belly. And when the time comes, you’ll have me here—for whatever you need.

Then, over his shoulder he beckoned with a chort. There is a patch of flowers, hidden by snow. A filling, delicious sort of greenery— rare, but preserved. For you.

maplesmoke hadn't stayed, and the two young horses to be born would be his blood.

stormcloud's life had not been long enough to let him see silverbirch.

now. colosseum. her withers twitched a bit in surprise, for it had been a good long while since selenia tasted something not discovered by herself. the mare's dark eyes watched him for a moment, and then she ducked her head with a low rumble of approval.

she was not used to a stallion caring so much; on impulse the buckskin plucked gently at his forelock as she passed, her round side brushing him in a vulnerable display of trust.

Her gentle tug at his forelock, the brush of her round side against his frame—it was a quiet language he understood deeply, a trust rarely given and even more rarely earned.

In response, he lowered his great head, touching softly beneath her chin, a gesture both tender and unbecoming of a mustang. His breath, warm and steady, mingled with hers for a moment, a silent acknowledgment of their shared space and unspoken understanding.

Then, with a soft huff, he stepped aside, motioning with his muzzle toward the shade of a towering oak nearby. Beneath its sprawling canopy, vibrant flowers bloomed, their colors a striking contrast against the earthy tones of the forest floor.

These, he murmured, his voice low but gentle, are for you.

It was a simple offering, but one he hoped would speak to her in the way her quiet gestures had spoken to him.

up to you what kind of flower!

<3

her sensitive muzzle moved over each upturned and colorful face, small patch of deep purple pansies and little pink roses. her smile was quick then, bright and unmatched, and what a luxury not to glance around for danger before she began to eat slowly, allowing herself the pleasant taste of an unhurried savor.

selenia's breath was floral when she returned to his side, lipping a last rosebud against his mane until it tangled prettily there. 

"you are a different kind of stallion," she said at last, glancing into his eyes. "all the strength but none of the brutishness. how do you manage that?" the buckskin asked, though it was clear in the flick of her lashes that she teased a little, more comfortable now with colosseum than she had been beside a male in a long while.

Colosseum gave a soft whicker in response to her gentle touch, his large, dark eyes watching her as she worked the delicate rosebud into his mane. He shifted slightly, a low rumble escaping him—a sound of comfort, contentment even. The stallion lowered his broad head toward her, brushing his velvety muzzle along her withers in acknowledgment.

I was raised by mares, he said simply, his voice steady, carrying the weight of truth without pretense. They taught me the ways of the herd—how to protect, how to lead, but never to take more than what’s freely given.

He paused, tilting his head slightly to catch her gaze. Brutishness doesn’t keep a herd together. Strength and understanding do. His tail swished lazily, his muscles relaxed despite the strength that was evident in his stance.

The rosebud swayed in his mane as he shifted again, his gaze softening. I learned early on that being a stallion isn’t about domination. It’s about care. His tone was warm but measured, as if the thought was one he had long since accepted.

For a moment, he let his gaze wander back to the patch of flowers she had been exploring, a faint smile on his lips. It seems the mares were right. There’s strength in gentleness.

raised by mares. it certainly did make a difference in deportment, and selenia was pleased that it was their band which would reap the reward of colosseum's upbringing. "there's strength in gentleness." it sounded like a creed in his voice.

what was wrong with her? two months from delivery and she'd already gone sapheaded. foolish. "do you ever speak with the elk or the deer? fancy found that odd about me; when she and maplesmoke found yours truly, i was running with bison."

a smile wreathed her face; she shook out her mane in contentment.

Colosseum shook his massive head, a soft snort escaping him. Never met an elk or deer, he admitted, his voice low and even, as though it carried the weight of the earth itself. But bison— his ears twitched at the thought, I’ve spoken to them before. They’re… steady. Wise, in their way.

He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers. Running with bison, though. That’s something. Takes a strong heart to keep pace with those giants. A flicker of a smile ghosted across his lips, fleeting but genuine, as though he found some admiration in the image of Selenia among them.

He shifted his weight slightly, his tone softening. Guess we all find our way with who’ll have us, don’t we?

"i suppose that's true." though, in her approximation, their own meeting was a good deal more serendipitous. "if we ever need a translator, let me know. deer, elk, bison, caribou. i'm not very good with the dialect of mountain goats, and the sheep are even more evasive. i do know antelope, briefly," and here she let her words trail off in amusement at herself.

"you look very fetching with that rose in your mane," selenia opted to tease. "keep it there."

He huffed sheepishly, glancing down at the delicate rose nestled against the thick strands of his mane. It wasn’t often that he adorned himself with such things—practicality always won over vanity—but there was something about the way she said it that made him reconsider. But it was a gift.

He exhaled through his nostrils, shaking his head lightly before turning to her with a softer look. I’ll keep that in mind, he murmured, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, thoughtful. Then, with a small nod, he added, Thanks.

fade;;? they're so cute...