Through the droves of snow, Nephilim plowed. He was used to it now, this icy, frigid walk. In some places it grew high enough to swallow his legs whole, but still, he walked. Little flurries fell from a droll, gray sky, but it wasn’t enough to refill the path he’d created. It was a good thing it didn’t, for directly behind him were two young fillies on the cusp of being yearlings, one after the other.

While the rest of the herd sought shelter in one of the numerous caves further inland, Nephilim and his daughters plowed through the snow to both check the borders for security and to see if there were any areas the snow hadn’t fallen quite as drastically where grazing could be found. They were able to dig up a patch or two of weedy, yellow, dead grass here and there, but it wasn’t enough. It never was, each winter. The Tinuvel herd was thinning out but, in just a few weeks, maybe a month’s time, they’d have plenty of spring grass after the snow began to melt.

The snow began to thin the further they came to the actual Bay, the further they came to the beach. Eventually, Nephilim was walking atop it rather than pushing through it, his hooves making crunching noises against the icy flakes. Their breath streamed in plumes of nearly translucent white, skin hot to the touch by the energy they’d exerted. As they crested the hill which would gradually descend into a dark stone pebbled beach, Nephilim drew to a halt. He’d just turned his head to reach and nuzzle his daughter, Maziel, when he noticed Mariael stiffen, her head jerking upright and nostrils flaring.

Nephilim whipped his head about just in time to hear the call, a voice both familiar and not, far deeper than it was when last he’d heard it. Excitement rippled through his body and a loud, boisterous response of a whiny erupted from his lips. They were far south from where Tithe had come from the waters but it was no consequence to pick up his legs in a quick, bouncy trot, sending stones skittering as he closed the distance between the two. Sensing their father was welcoming to this stranger and not aggressive; the girls tossed their heads and trotted after him – albeit a little slower than he’d gone.

“Tithe!” Called Nephilim with all the fondness a family member would have when greeting another family member they cared for and hadn’t seen in some time. He drew up short, extending his neck, exchanging a quick puff or two of breaths before drawing back. “It’s great to see you.” He looked so much older, so much more grown… so much more mature.

The girls lingered back a horse-length or two, ears pointed forward. Maziel’s head was slung down, ghost eyes almost haunting in their glossy, milky-white hue. Her nostrils quivered, flared as she scented the stallion from afar. Mariael still held her head high, but there was a curious light in her eyes rather than the normal guarded hardness. The girls had heard of Tithe before, stories their father told of the stallion that might have been like a brother or uncle to them if he’d still been in the Bay when they were born.

Nephilim flicked his ear and snorted. “These are my daughters, Maziel and Mariael.” At their introduction, the girls stepped forward, each offering their muzzles to exchange soft breaths.

But Nephilim knew, whatever reason had drawn Tithe to the Bay in weather like this wasn’t likely to be a kind, harmonious chat. His gold eyes flashed, narrowed thoughtfully, and then he looked to his girls. “Girls, let Tithe and I have some time to talk. We’ll head back to the caves in a while.” Maybe Tithe would want to come with them, Nephilim wondered, he’d never refuse to shelter family. Only once Maziel and Mariael had moved out of earshot, exploring the briny scents, did Nephilim’s gold eyes return to look upon Tithe. “What brought you to visit?”