45. Tammy #2
The second birth progressed with unexpected speed—almost as if the first foal had cleared the path for her sibling. Within twenty minutes, the second water bag appeared, followed quickly by the distinctive bubble that signaled the second foal’s imminent arrival.
“This one’s coming fast,” I called, moving to position myself behind Sassafras. “Really fast. I think it’s—”
The rest of my sentence was lost as the second foal emerged in a single, powerful contraction—a perfect colt, slightly larger than his sister, with Mystery’s dark coat and proud bearing already evident despite his minutes-old status.
Unlike his sibling, he needed no assistance—his first breath emerged as a full-bodied whinny that made us all jump in surprise.
“He’s vocal,” Vantor observed, his deep voice carrying a note of what might almost have been pride. “Security potential is high.”
Despite everything—the tension, the exhaustion, the very real fear that had gripped me when we’d first received the alert—I laughed. Only Vantor would assess a newborn foal’s defensive capabilities.
We worked in perfect coordination as the twins’ umbilical cords were carefully severed and the afterbirth delivered.
Cyro monitored both foals’ vital signs with careful attention, calling out readings that Kalith recorded with equal precision.
Vantor brought fresh water and clean towels, moving with that particular efficiency that had once been reserved for high risk operations but now extended to every aspect of our shared life.
And through it all, Sassafras watched with the particular pride unique to new mothers—exhausted but radiant, her body still recovering from the miracle it had performed.
It wasn’t until nearly an hour later, when both foals had made their first wobbly attempts to stand—the filly managing it on her third try, her brother taking two attempts before his long, spindly legs found their balance—that the full impact of the moment hit me.
I stood in the doorway of the stall, watching as the twins nuzzled their mother with blind, instinctive trust. Behind me, my three aliens had regrouped—tentacles carefully sheathed beneath human disguises once more, though occasional ripples of color still betrayed their emotional states.
We had done it. Against impossible odds, against the vast differences that separated our species, against my own desperate fears that I would lose everything—we had created this moment, this perfect new beginning.
“Sunflower Hills Premium Breeding,” I said softly, testing the name we’d chosen for our operation. “We’re really doing it.”
Cyro moved to stand beside me, one hand—currently fully human—reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear with careful precision.
“The statistical probability of a successful twin equine birth with zero complications is approximately four percent on your planet,” he said, his scientific mind unable to resist quantifying our triumph.
“Factoring in Sassafras’s first-time maternal status, which you said can come with separate risks, even with our technology and careful management, this outcome is… miraculous.”
In human terms: we’d beaten the odds. Spectacularly.
“Miraculous,” I breathed out. “I’ve never asked before, but does your species believe in miracles?
” I did. I always had. Only now, I felt like my belief was founded.
Maybe my mention of hope in a bucket and praying to deaf ears, while always wishing for a miracle, had rubbed off on them.
“We do now.” This from Vantor, in a low, thoughtful voice.
“I’ve been thinking,” Cyro said suddenly, his voice taking on that careful, measured tone he used when presenting controversial scientific hypotheses.
I shifted position so I could face him, just as a tentacle emerged from his human arm, extending toward my face with careful precision.
The tip brushed against my lips, making me shiver.
“About our own reproductive compatibility.”
The words hung in the scented, stable air between us, weighted with implication. I felt my breath catch, Sassafras and her miracle foals fading into the back of my mind.
“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
A flush of deeper lavender spread across his cheeks, his human disguise momentarily slipping to reveal the true iridescence beneath. “I’ve been running simulations,” he said, each word carefully chosen. “Our physiologies are surprisingly compatible. Young ones are possible.”
“We’ve—” I stopped, my brain cycling through steamy images of all the times each of them had locked inside of me, spilling alien seed, my body never catching— “if I was going to get pregnant, wouldn’t I have already?”
Vantor shifted beside me, his body suddenly tense. I looked from Cyro’s hopeful expression to Kalith’s wide eyes, then to Vantor’s carefully controlled features.
“We did not risk fertilizing our spermatophores,” Cyro explained, the lilac of his cheeks deepening to nearly a royal purple.
“So… you’ve been purposefully shooting blanks?” I finally managed, my pulse still tripping over itself.
Cyro nodded, a tentacle reaching to take my free hand. “We would have to proceed with caution. The children of our world are born into the waters, and they stay water-bound until the age they can surface. But we do not know what our offspring here will require.”
“Half-human, half-cephalopod children,” Kalith murmured, his eyes lighting up with that particular gleam that meant he was calculating a hundred and one possibilities.
Vantor’s deep voice cut through Kalith’s excited rambling. “Would you want that?” he asked, his hazel eyes fixed on my face with unusual intensity. “Children with us? A family?”
The question wrapped around me like their tentacles had that first night we were together in the stables—overwhelming, wonderful, slightly terrifying.
I reached for them all with hands that weren’t quite steady.
My fingers grazed over Vantor’s hand, Cyro’s tentacle, Kalith’s shoulder.
I touched them all. Small, intimate caresses.
“Yes,” I said, the word carrying certainty.
I felt sure of them, of us, just as I’d felt sure when I signed the buyer’s paperwork for Sunflower Hills. Had I been scared to death? Yes. Had it all been worth it in the end? Also, without any doubts, yes.
“More than anything, I want us to be a real pack in every way. I want our bond marks to never fade.” I held up my hands, showing off the bracelets of sucker scars.
“I want to never be apart. I want to hold our babies in my arms. I want to grow old. My hair gray. Your beautiful skin hues dulled with time. I want everything that’s possible. ”
Their scents surrounded me—ocean depths and forest floors, sweet marshland and clean rain—mingling with hay and the miracle of birth.
The tapestry of smells surrounding us threaded together so perfectly that I couldn’t tell where one ended and another began.
Just like us, unlikely lovers becoming something greater than our separate parts.
Outside, impending sunrise lightened the dark sky with unspoken promises.
Of a love that transcended the stars.
Of a future so achingly wonderful that I could scarce breathe around the bloating of my happy, happy heart.