“Ramiel, Raziel,” Zevulun’s voice broke through the morning and drew the heads of his twin sons up from where they’d been grazing. “I’m going to visit your aunt today to let her know where we’re living now. I need you to do the border checks and help Balor keep the herd safe.” The authority in his voice momentarily surprised him, though that expression never showed on his face. It just occurred to him right then how much he sounded like Mariael the mornings she’d come to him and instructed him on which borders to walk of the Bay and what to look for when he did.
“Sure! We can do that.” Ramiel promised with his trademark smile. Zevulun felt relieved to have them here with him, that they’d decided to stay. Raziel nodded, then glanced toward the youngest of the group of stallions, Orphiel.
Raziel nodded. “Orphiel can come with us too.”
Orphiel glanced at his father and immediately they all felt the tension that leaked into the air. The young cremello dun snorted and glanced at Zevulun. “Actually,” he started, “Could I come with you to the Peak? I’ve never seen it before.”
Raziel’s ears flicked back and he chewed on the air before he glanced away. Zevulun suppressed a sigh. As happy as he was to spend time with the grandson he had just barely learned of, he wished the boy had some interest in bonding with Raziel. There was nothing he could do to push him closer. If he told Orphiel he couldn’t come with him, it was likely the young stallion would come up with yet another excuse to avoid spending any one-on-one time with his sire. Maybe it was better they spent time alone together, anyways. Orphiel’s anger wasn’t directed at his grandsire and Zevulun could tell the colt wanted to bond close with his family. In due time…
“Of course.” He said, nodding. “I’d appreciate the company.”
Raziel flicked his white tail and turned, walking away without saying another word.
**********
Saltwater rolled heavy off his body as Zevulun went from surf to sand. The Crossing greeted the pair with a myriad of scents and sounds, and it was hard to resist the urge to move toward the common gathering grounds to try and find a lonely soul that needed a home. But, he’d promised Oswin he would come tell her once he’d settled on somewhere for them to live, and after talking to Tavas he had some family business to discuss. He wanted to know why she’d never told him or his sisters that she’d brought Vita Nova to visit Nephilim, too. He wanted to know why he’d never gotten to know his sister, nor had their father.
He glanced askance at Orphiel as they pressed further inland, moving for the hills that rolled before the steep rise of the Peak. Should he discuss family drama in front of the boy? Would it only sour him further from bonding to this side of his blood? Or would it comfort him to see that not everyone was perfect, that his father wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been around for him.
As they walked the hills, Oswin’s scent was there, but she was nowhere to be found. They came to a stop at the base of the incline. Zevulun glanced up toward the far away summit, then back down around them. Orphiel looked at him, then lifted his chin so he could glance up the trail as well.
“She could be up top.” Zevulun said. Orphiel craned his chin up so his eyes could reach for the impressive, looking top of the Peak above. He dropped his head and looked back at his grandsire, who gave him an encouraging grin. “Only one way to find out. C’mon. You’ll love it up there.”
Zevulun had lived in the Peak for a season the last time he and his family attempted to return to the islands. He’d had Oswin show him the paths to climb up to the Peak summit, and found himself in awe at the view once there. He was excited to show Orphiel, despite the serious undertones which had brought him to the Peak that day. “Careful on the way up,” he called back behind him as the trail narrowed, only wide enough for them to walk in a single-file line. “One slip in some spots could be deadly.” This definitely wasn’t a trek for those afraid of heights.
The path widened again and Orphiel caught up, walking side-by-side with his grandsire but looking everywhere he could with absolute fascination. The bitter, sullen nature he held to on the Prairie, sour around his sire, was slipping away. Zevulun suppressed his desire to smile, not wanting Orphiel to see how happy he was that he was coming out of his shell a little bit.
Just then, voices ahead of their path drifted back to them. Both stallions perked their ears with curiosity at the youthful, feminine voices. There was a playful quality to their tone, and as they came up over the slope Zevulun saw why. Two young mares were in some sort of teasing banter with one another.
Zevulun came to a steady halt a decent distance from them, close enough to talk without yelling but far enough he wasn’t pressing on their personal space. Some mares came to live at the Peak to get as far away from stallions as they could. Even though these mares were young, he wouldn’t assume they were without bias. It was better not to come to the Peak and scare young fillies anyways.
“Good morning,” he greeted them kindly and with a smile. Orphiel was watching them with slightly wide eyes and feeling quite nervous. He didn’t really talk to mares and wasn’t sure how.
“I hope you don’t mind our interruption,” Zevulun continued and dipped his nose toward Orphiel. “This is my grandson, Orphiel. I’m Zevulun, lead of the Prairie on Luthien. I’m looking for my aunt, Oswin. I couldn’t find her down below.”
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