"But what if they don't accept him?" Minerva's voice sounded high and worried, as she petted the small, gold colt while he finished drinking the last of his formula.
"If they reject him. They won't...kill him, will they?" She pressed her lips into the soft fur of the creature, trying not to cry at the thought.
She sniffed loudly and cleared her throat, though her eyes were still bright.
"You just try and keep me from coming to see him," Minerva dared Greg with a small smile. "You've probably heard plenty from my Dad how strong and stubborn I can be. He says I get it from my great-gran."