Tarrant’s ears twitched, green eyes holding the mare quietly within their grasp. Ten summers he had seen, nearly nine of them as a leader and six of them as a king. He had met and befriended many mares, stallions and children only to sadly admit their absence in his life. A few disappeared from death (his children, his best friends, his father), a few simply wandered from the islands for greener pastures and a few were left behind when Tarrant left, no longer here when he returned. He had known so many lives throughout his own yet he was enriched by each individual, each new presence that came into it. He regarded Pulse, but he smiled at her, kindly and amiably as a welcoming regal might. Despite the fact that this was his son’s territory and he claimed no right, Tarrant held his head high and a multitude of scars were spread across his coat.

“Of course,” he said quietly, mainly because Pulse was watching him rather than Wonka, and smiled again. “You are more than welcome to stay within the Inlet as long or as short as you’d like.”

Tarrant did not miss her subtle message, the tightening of her tail as it flattened against her rump, but his smile only stayed reassuring and his body stayed toward her front. Wonka missed it, of course, but he seemed comfortable simply standing within the shadow of his father rather than speaking or feeling jealousy for the way Tarrant had taken the focus of the conversation. Tarrant had many children, a few over ten, one or two he knew as dead and one or two he knew as alive. Each child had been a gift, given to him by a mare he knew as a friend. Each child had been raised in his company, playing games with their father and easily getting off the hook if they’d ever done wrong. One child loathed him, one child was lost in the tremendous waves following the destruction of Cimarron and the others were either gone as well or having adventures elsewhere, like their father often did.

“I would be more than happy to accompany your exploration, if you’d like. While Wonka has been gallivanting on the Crossing, I’ve been exploring the Inlet greater than I had in my youth.” He had not missed the way she turned from Wonka, the way her eyes held Tarrant instead, but again he was reminded of her message. “But, if you would like to go alone you will hear no complaint from us.” Another smile, a small shifting of his weight as his green eyes quietly watched her.