Amaranthe had come to the Bay carrying a foal. It could have been Nephilim’s youth and lack of experience in these matters (or perhaps a combination of both), but he found her state did not bother him. It was not out of pride that he eyed the expanding swell of her torso, but out of matters rooted far deeper in his psyche, those which had caused the cracks that were etched in his heart. How had she become to carry a child? Was it before her arrival to these islands, or after? She had not sought out the stallion who had impregnated her, should he reside here, and so that leant toward an ugly truth which quietly ate away at him.

As the time came closer and she grew larger the question burned and burned in his throat, but he couldn’t dare to ask it. To ask it would potentially open the doors which he kept firmly shut; the doors which locked away a piece of his past he wished he could forget, but which seemed to drive every step he took. Nephilim was not certain if he was ready to deal with the consequences, depending on how Amaranthe would react.

But he knew one damnable thing for sure… if it were the case and if she were to treat the foal in any way of similarity to the way his dam had treated him, Nephilim would do something about it. That, of course, leant the question… why hadn’t Lyden ever stepped in?

…days passed since Amaranthe disappeared. Once, Nephilim had scented her, but still hadn’t known how to deal with the situation he saw as sensitive and turned about rather than investigating further. But it had been two days at least since that late morning and now, this day, he stood on the crest before the wide stretch of the rocky Tinuvel beach, watching both Amaranthe and her child. His eyelids narrowed as he studied not the foal, but her, waiting to spot a sign of aggression toward a child he should honestly feel nothing for.

Enough was enough. Soon the wind would change and she would scent him. The time had come for Nephilim to meet them both, mother and child, and let whatever would happen… happen. But rather than advance forward into their space, Nephilim only took three steps closer so that his body was fully on the beach and no longer tucked back, further inland. He raised his chin and whinnied, a loud sound which carried out on the open wind.