Just as walking the borders of a territory and keeping a watchful eye for predators and wandering stallions were new to Nephilim, inviting someone to live in his home was new as well. His gold eyes steadied on Amaranthe, though they were of similar height it was clear Nephilim still had a year or so to fill in the muscles beneath his coat. His was also currently clear of scars (bare one or two small ones where his dam’s hooves had nicked him deep as a foal), whereas she bore many and with pride. If she were a stallion the introduction at hand would have gone differently and Nephilim would very well have been driven from this territory.

His ears twitched at her words. It would be mostly a lie for him to swell his chest and claim to be such when they both knew, without ever saying it, that he currently was not worthy. Or, at least, the lack of self-confidence instilled within him for the first nearly three years of his life wasn’t so easy to overcome in just a few days.

A wry grin twisted at his lips. “Keh,” a bitter sound of amusement slipped from his mouth, “Amaranthe, I doubt I have to tell you that right now, I don’t look worthy of the title. A seasoned, older stallion could probably come along and beat me into the ground if he had a mind for it.” If he could roll his eyes, he might have. Instead, Nephilim just blew a soft snort of air from his nostrils. “I’ll spare you the sob story of my colthood –” mainly because he hadn’t quite figured out how to open up to practical strangers and didn’t really like the idea of everyone knowing what a pathetic backstory he had, “but I didn’t get much practice in.”

He took a moment to glance toward the Bay, a place that still felt foreign to call his. “I guess the only thing I can tell you is that I aim to be something great, but if that’s not good enough for you, you’re free to take shelter until your rested enough for a swim and carry on your search for someone… worthy.”