Young.

Nephilim blinked, bewildered, as a child came from the vibrant greens of Atlantis’ jungle and he didn’t know what to think. Half of him was further ashamed, for it was a child who’d managed to lure away one of his mares (the most gullible of them, most like) and from that shame, further anger was born. What was he going to do? Run down this kid? Nephilim found himself torn on what it was he wanted to do – punish the colt to show him what it meant to mess with an older stallion’s family or let the behavior go because he was so young?

I wanted to say… sorry… not sorry.

Nephilim’s ears flicked back, pinned, and the gold of his eyes flashed. In that brief, second pause, he considered saying damn his good conscience, he’d rather beat the kid so hard into the sand he couldn’t walk another step for a week. His muscles gathered tight beneath his coat and, if not for the way the conversation changed, he would have lunged forward and taken chase through the unfamiliar territory until he could either catch up to the gangly yearling or run him down so hard he grew lame.

A hard snort left his muzzle, his ears lifted from where they’d pinned but he didn’t look any less irritated. With his slender neck lifted he peered down onto the yearling, letting him speak while he listened.

This was, most likely, one of the strangest moments in Nephilim’s life and the constant back-and-forth of his emotions was wearing his already frazzled nerves. He had been scared when he’d seen Mariael distraught, upset when he learned he could have returned to Hollowshank having been taken from the herd, and bewildered the moment a colt had been the one behind it all. It was too much for Nephilim to handle and now, he was angry. Anger was the only emotion he could understand, it was what he became during the moments of great turmoil he was forced to face.

“Keh.” He spat the sarcastic laugh, head still raised, gold eyes still flashing. “So let me get this straight, kid. You decide to sneak into my home, try to take away someone from my family, scare my daughter, and you think it’s all going to be great because we’re going to become buddies? You thought that was the best way to get my attention?”

Nephilim’s ears flicked back and he lowered his head, narrowing his eyes. The brief moment of humor (albeit bitter humor) fell away from an expression that became serious, lines so hard they could have been carved of rock were all which made up his angular, dished face. “I don’t make friends with thieves, no matter how friendly your intentions were.”