Through the inland of the Bay they walked, further into the forest and mountains, until they reached one of a very few places the horses of the Bay would survive Tinuvel’s harsh winters within. A wide mouth opened on the face of the mountainside, a hollow, dark entryway yawning before them. “You’ll be able to dry in the cave.” He said before he started forward, hooves echoing gently as they tapped solid rock ground the further he walked within the cave, only stopping once they were both submerged within and the wind could only whistle at the entrance rather than clawing at their flesh and chilling them to the bone.

Nephilim had been thinking of her question very, very carefully. He had little to no experience concerning band stallions, only what he’d come across on Crossing, being driven away from mares if he came too close during breeding season, always successfully dodging their paths. Of course, he had been involved in a scuffle once upon a time. Briefly he thought of the stallion that’d looked somewhat like him in body and yet with more defined characteristics. The stallion had sparred briefly with Nephilim before leaving the Falls and Nephilim could still feel the offense as if he weren’t even good enough to stick around for.

He blinked and looked back over to Amaranthe. “I don’t know.” He answered, truthfully. “I need to know whether or not he’s a threat to my family.” Family. That was a word that felt so foreign in his mouth. “If it comes to blows… then, well, it comes to that.” Nephilim was going to have to step up at some point, after all.