Nerys isn't squeamish exactly, but it's probably best that she missed the more graphic aspects of the calving, instead arriving after the process is mostly over. The young calf is now merely damp, being licked profusely by her mother, and Margaery looks slightly disheveled but pleased.

Smiling, Nerys quietly waves and wades through the thick grass towards the shade tree where the cows and her friend have settled, out of the heat of the day. "Congratulations," she says, softly, not wanting to disturb the animals.