Olaf, not Lyden. Nephilim wondered if he was supposed to feel anything, any sort of confusion or need to know what had happened, given that he’d lived under the stallion’s protection for the first few months of his life. But, given the confusing way his mother had treated Lyden and how she hadn’t allowed Nephilim any contact with him, maybe it wasn’t so abnormal that he felt nothing at all. He resorted to only giving a sage nod of his head rather than worrying over names and changes for a place he should feel nothing. Yet, if Lyden wasn’t there, Nephilim felt he was even further from knowing why his dam had returned to Luthien after all.
Then came the question. Do you know the Forest? Nephilim’s gold eyes hesitated on Foxglove and found the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He wanted to swallow the sour taste and push forward with it rather than relieving himself through telling the truth, but found he was unable to lie to either of the sisters he’d just met. “I… was born there.” He said, swallowing and taking a small breath, “but it’s been over a year since I was there last. I don’t recognize Olaf’s name.” He said it as though he were simply stating a fact that wouldn’t require any further explanation, as though it was uninteresting that he’d been born in the Forest.
Foxglove’s smile and invitation stunned him for a moment, his gaze on her before a smile of his own pulled slowly over his dark lips, as though he were caught in some daze due to hers. “I… yeah,” he snapped out of it with an awkward laugh, shaking his head, “I would be happy to.”
He shifted in the grass of the Falls and cleared his throat. “How much more time do you guys have on Crossing? I don’t want to hold you up from all the exploring…” He’d liked to have offered to accompany them, simply because he found he enjoyed their company (and little shared glances with Foxglove seemed inevitable and set a furious flutter in his stomach) but he wouldn’t dare swallow up precious time they had to have a bit of freedom and fun.
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