Summer on Tinuvel was pleasant and, if Nephilim had to guess, he’d assume it was possibly the most pleasant of them all. The mornings were cold, the breeze coming off the ocean as fog and mist swirled about, but it was never unpleasant. At times there were thick, fat grey clouds that drifted overhead, but they moved off toward Atlantis, sure to give the tropical island their summer rain. If Nephilim were not of the islands he might have thought it strange, the different topography in such a close range, but because this was all he had ever known he accepted it as fact.

The stallion, still young and only halfway through his third year of life, lowered his muzzle to nibble at grass that had grown from ground fed by snowmelt. He wasn’t far from the shoreline today, just up in the hills, a bit out of sight. Nephilim learned quickly that the Bay received most its visitors from the beach where it earned its namesake and he’d do well to often stay as near to it as possible in case of intruders (though it were certainly not impossible for a horse to come from somewhere else further inland).

Sure enough, as he chewed stalks of summer grass, Nephilim heard a cry reach up from the beach, calling him near. Immediately alert, Nephilim’s head lifted and his ears flicked toward the sound, his heart lurching. He recognized that voice, though they should have been but strangers, considering how little they knew of each other. As he swallowed what he’d chewed and bellowed a responding whinny shortly after, Nephilim thought of the younger stallion when he’d seen him last.

He was immediately filled with guilt, for after they’d turned for the Forest borders, chased away from the Prairie, Nephilim had balked. It had been too much; the scent of the Forest had assaulted him after having faced off with the dam that raised him among those ferns, refusing to allow him near the herd that resided there. Nephilim had galloped for the sea and assumed Dances had followed, but by the time he pulled himself onto a nearby island (a very, very small spit of land that was hardly big enough for two horses) he’d realized he was alone and could not see the younger stallions head bobbing among the waves.

Nephilim crested a rise in the land further up the shore, a place which swept down and looked over the beach, and his gold eyes sought out Dances as the two-toned colt awaited him. He took no time trotting down the embankment, hooves sinking in pebbles and coarse sand as he moved onto the beach. “Dances!” He called out, and his eyes swept across Dances’ body, searching for injuries and hoping to not see any that were too terrible (Nephilim’s own, due to his light coat, were now bruises easily spotted along his neck and shoulder, including one on his haunches).

“I didn’t intend to leave you,” he said as soon as he could speak, barely coming to a stop right after, wanting to say it before Dances could interject. “What you did back there…” his voice trailed off. Nephilim was still growing accustom to having those who were willing to fight with him, for him, and was still growing accustom to speaking from his heart. He cleared his throat and offered a brief, awkward grin. “Just… ah… thank you, I guess, is what I’m trying to get at. Are you… alright?” There was a bit of worry in his tone as he studied the two-toned colt, hoping he hadn’t been left behind only to fall victim to more woes.



ooc: hush, you! that post was beautiful <33