She felt like a failure. Every horrid thing her parents had ever said about her felt justified when she found out her baby had died. What had she done? In what way had she sinned or failed that had led to the loss of an innocent?
What a ridiculous thing to say. Iset thought angrily. My-our baby isn't lost. I know exactly where he is, and it isn't where he should be.
Isetnofret had been eager, excited to meet her child. Their child, of course, she had thought with a blush. Weir had been kind enough to agree to fathering a child as long as he could be involved. Iset had liked him from the first time she met him. She had known he would be a father nothing like her own. Weir was intelligent and kind and funny, although Iset suspected he didn't always mean to be. It was he and Elysteria who were beginning to show Iset that she wasn't devoid of family simple because her blood relations had failed her. The baby had felt like a part of that fresh start. The morab had been determined that her darling would never know cruelty at her hooves.
The black mare had been wandering the edges of the Meadow, desperately sad and not wanting to return to the Dale until she could compose herself. And yet, the loss wasn't growing easier to bear, and finally she sought out her family.
The walk back was a difficult one. As winter crept nearer, more and more mares were rounding out and showing their pregnancies. Iset did her best to avoid their joy. When she could take not one minute more, she ran. Her legs stretched beneath her, aching to be pushed, covering ground with reckless abandon.
She stumbled over nothing, and paused to steal a drink from a stream. Here she paused, reluctant to speak the words aloud that would break both their hearts.
"Weir." Iset whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.