Nephilim had never told Rohanne, had never told Roza, but he had looked upon the frozen, dead body of his son. He had every opportunity to keep it from his mind, to only remember the way it had haunted Rohanne, the way grief had overcome him to think his first child was taken from this world without being given a chance. Yet after the soberness had settled thick into the Bay, Nephilim had patrolled, and when he came upon the sickening strange scent of death and birth in one he approached, heart hammering hard in his chest, crawling up his throat.

He’d wept. Wept over a frozen body of something which had never lived. Wept over an idea. Over a dream. My son, my son, my son…

Nephilim blinked, eyes drifting down toward the darker girl still at the buckskin mare’s hooves. That question – that one question – as to whether or not her children were healthy and safe briefly brought back the memory of the nightmare he had looked upon when he saw his dead son. Relief stormed through him as he looked down upon the dark girl and saw her stir, saw her blink her eyes open and saw her struggle to stand shortly after her sister had. “They’re perfectly fine,” he said kindly, small smile on his mouth (for how could one not smile when presented with such a beautiful sight?). “Perfectly healthy and absolutely beautiful.”

Just as he’d finished reassuring her a loud, alarming bellow caught the air. Nephilim turned his head, pushing his muzzle firmly against Maziel’s chest to push her back a few steps into the forest and then again, to his other side, to guide Mariael back. Though he needn’t worry, it was only Pagan, worried over the disappearance of his mare, no doubt. Nephilim was only briefly wary – for he knew what it was to be a father and what it was to want to protect. Though they were amiable neighbors (one may even go as far as to say friends), things could change if one didn’t stop and ask questions first.

Pagan, however, recognized Nephilim and the challenge seemed to leave him, attention instead stolen by his daughters. Nephilim smiled fondly at the family – new life sprung into Tinuvel after the frigid cold of winter. “Stay as long as you need.” He said, voice gentle so as not to disturb the girls as they figured out their way in the world. “I won’t intrude upon this family moment.” A kind smile from the now fully grown stallion and he turned to tap his daughters so they’d know it was time to go, allowing Pagan and Amica to have their first moments alone with their children.