Sandretta nickered in pleasure. Her baby had been born at last, a fortnight late but healthy as she could have hoped. Pinion looked on proudly as if he had participated in the birthing himself.
The tiny unicorn wobbled its way upwards: a mare, as she had hoped. She decided to name it “Heliola,” and teach her to sing the songs of power when she was mature. And she had feared that she would end up be the last of her line. What would have happened, she wondered, if at this late stage in her life she had been barren, or if she had only been able to have a stallionette? But now that danger was averted. Life in Luxterna could continue in safety, as long as Heliola was well guarded.
She puffed a chord through her horn, summoning Staplet the faun, who capered over, responding with vim on his own pipes. His little horns could not make music, but Staplet made do with reeds and grass, and he was loyal. It would be his responsibility to protect the baby until she could defend herself.
Pinion flew away. Sandretta rested.