A twitch of his ear and Nephilim’s gaze pulled toward Tithe, so young and yet, at times, seeming so much more mature than Nephilim might expect. He cracked a smile at the colt’s words and stance, both because he knew he wouldn’t dare have a kid at his side for a fight (though he practically had, given Dances’ youth) and because it was endearing. Since Nephilim’s developing years had been spent in isolation it was still easy to forget he had others on his side now, willing to fight for him and alongside him.

The point was further made when Amaranthe spoke, Nephilim’s gaze flashing toward her as she approached, noticing as her eyes made for his pale coat where the wounds would become more prevalent as they went through the healing process. Her suggestion was tempting, he thought, to raid the shores of the Prairie with Amaranthe at his side and sweep down on the band stallion that had driven him away. But is that what he really wanted to do? No, not truly. As angry as he was, as much as Nephilim would love to respond with a show of strength he knew it would add further credit to her opinion of him.

“No.” He said after a moment of thought where it was clear he was considering the option. “This is best left in the past.” Just like everything else with the cream mare, he thought, his tone weary by a fight that had gone on for much, much longer than this latest incident.

His golden gaze lingered on Amaranthe. “Thank you.” He added, softly, though did not explain where the gratitude had come from. It was clear in his tone and the honesty of his gaze how heartfelt the two words were, more than just a simple brush-off due to her offering.