Though this land was not entirely quiet (for Nephilim could hear the winter winds whistle by his ears) it seemed silent enough that the tense nature keeping his muscles tight beneath his flesh slowly slipped away. Nephilim spent far too much time concentrating on the cold seeping into his flesh as if it were reaching to make his bones of ice to care if a stallion charged from inland to drive him back to the sea. It had been a mistake, he thought, to not consider which island he would find himself on when he charged the frothy ocean waters. But mistake or not, he was going to own up to it. He was going to make this where he belonged. He had to for, if he did not, Nephilim feared he would go mad.

There was a call, a loud whinny, and it snapped his attention toward it. Ears perked, thin neck straight and gold eyes bright in this winter world he was walking in, Nephilim observed the distant dark figure of a horse who’d called to him. A responding call climbed from his throat and reached outward before he turned and moved toward them only to notice another horse standing at their side. Was this the herd stallion he was approaching or… no, wait… as Nephilim drew closer he recognized both the bay and the painted ones to both be mares – the bay older, the painted closer to his age if not younger.

His gold eyes cast a surveying glance around them, as if waiting on his peripherals he would find their stallion, storming with pinned ears to drive a young colt from his home. When it appeared they were alone and he’d drawn close enough that he could take just a few steps and exchange quick, warm breaths, Nephilim returned his attention to them in order to do so. He was a stranger here, an outcast who knew nothing of the land or whether or not his initiation here would be successful or not. It was just as likely the mare, older than he, could turn aggressive and drive him away just as easily as a stallion might.

“My name is Nephilim,” he tried to sound far more confident than he felt, but the chill of Tinuvel creeping into his flesh made his voice tremble ever so slightly, his limbs giving the slightest shake. “Where is your stallion?” This question hung on a hesitant note, his gold eyes moving from the younger mare to the older, wondering… waiting…