Nephilim was the first to arrive on the shores of Crossing Isle, technically within the Peak’s territory, where he shook out his coat and glanced eastward, studying the surf for the familiar figure of his dearest friend. It had been a little while since they had seen one another. Castillon’s father had retaken the Prairie and granted him the secondary position he had been promised. Nephilim’s father had entrusted him to the very same within the Arch and, with his mother taking over leadership, she had informed him the Arch would most likely fall to him in the future. It was a lot of pressure and as excited as Nephilim was to prove himself, he was nervous, too. What if he wasn’t good enough? Did Castillon share these same worries?
As good as it was that their lives were growing, it meant they didn’t have the freedoms they had before, where they could take off for the Crossing Isle for seasons at a time, wandering together and spending their time with just one another for company.
At last, Nephilim caught the sight of Castillon among the surf. His silvery tail flagged off his painted hind as he trotted up and down the shoreline excitedly, whinnying out to his friend. By the time Castillon had found his hooves underneath him and was halfway out of the shallows, Nephilim was crashing into them, sending more saltwater sprinkling over them both. He playfully pushed into Castillon and pretended to nip at him, getting into a little bout of friendly roughhousing to expel some of the excited energy at seeing him again.
A season into their third year, both boys were filling out and maturing quite handsomely. Their features no longer held onto their coltish youth, looking more and more like the distinguished stallions they would once be. Nephilim was already taller than Castillon, and somewhat thicker built as well, courtesy of his dam’s draft blood. Even his fetlocks had a little bit of white feathering, though it wasn’t as thick or as long as his mother’s was; from his throat latch to his chin groove, he had a beard growing in as well. Castillon was much smoother, without excess hair grown out along his body.
The pair only spent a small time catching up before they were on the move, trailing down Crossing Isle until they reached the shoreline nearest Atlantis and could swim together from there. Both were excited to see Chati, both for much of the same reason. They spoke happily amongst one another about the mare, wondering how much her treasures had grown since they had last seen her. Castillon had found a particularly pretty rock in the Prairie creek a few days ago and briefly lamented to Nephilim that he wished he had brought it, but he wasn’t sure how she would get it back to her cave in the Ruins.
Finally, they swam ashore on Paradise. The territory was no longer led by Castillon’s sister, but they didn’t worry. If whoever led the territory now came across them, they were sure all they had to do was explain they were visiting the island for the first time. As much as they wanted to marvel and wonder at the different sights all around them, both boys only had eyes for one thing: her.
She was standing just up the shoreline, looking even more lovely than the first day they laid eyes on her. Much like that first time both boys came to a brief, stunned stop, but then smiles burst warm and wide across their faces and happy nickers rumbled out of their chests. They started quickly for her, tails flagged out behind them, and knees pulled up high to their chests with each light step they took across the warm, soft sand to get to her. They offered their muzzles in turn to exchange breaths, but, both unable to help themselves, also nuzzled her cheek with a tender touch.
“We’ve missed you so much, Chati,” Nephilim said, his eyes warm as he regarded her.
“We really have.” Castillon agreed with a nod, still smiling.
Then, Nephilim asked, “You haven’t been waiting for us for too long, have you?”
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