At this point in time, Nephilim had gathered an assumption that wasn’t entirely correct. He was certain, due to Firethorn’s behavior, she’d either been in the vicinity at the time he’d been at the Prairie, witnessed it and drawn wrong conclusions, or the Prairie herd had been told lies of a young, invading stallion who’d threatened the safety of their family. For whatever reason, he decided that Foxglove had not been there, nor had she listened if any had spoken ill of his presence there. Why else would her eyes still be so bright and her smile as easy as she addressed him?

Of course, it didn’t make it any easier to think he would be leading her away to the Inlet, where he could never steal her away or challenge a herd stallion to have her free to spend time with him in the Bay. Nephilim would not go back on the word which he had given Pagan, nor would he put a crack in the vision which he had for Tinuvel, where the island was harsh enough that everyone who could needed to band together rather than tear each other from the inside out. Plus, as kind as Foxglove was, he’d never dare separate her from Firethorn against her will. He’d never had a sibling (he did now, he supposed, remembering the little gold and white filly he’d met) but he’d watched Roza and Rohanne since they’d come to his herd and their closeness made him think of the two red and white mares standing before him.

No, it was best to bite back any attempt to explain himself without prompting and allow Firethorn to continue in her assumptions of his character. Selfishly, he’d also not say a word in order to keep Foxglove the way she was, for each smile she sent him seemed to make his heart beat faster and faster yet. He took a breath and tried a smile (it was still just a little tense) before giving a bob of his head. “I’d love to. I won’t take you guys off path, though there’s some really neat ice caves back further in the mountains. I’ll show you along the border near the easiest access point to the Inlet.”

Nephilim led them forward, deciding not to point out that if they’d turned to the right and walked a shorter distance than he was taking them that they’d arrive in the Inlet much, much quicker. He felt slightly guilty, but blanketed it by showing them the unique attributes of Tinuvel which, he supposed, they’d grow accustom to once they were settled in the Inlet. A little off path, but not too much, Nephilim decided to lead them up a tall slope to the west of the Bay where, on a clear day (which this day just so happened to be) one could see down into the inward shape of the Bay and then out over the ocean water to where the various islands lurked as large, shadowy shapes.

Nephilim’s gaze trailed to Firethorn, to see her reaction at the sight. “The sunrise looks beautiful from here.” He said, his voice soft with reminiscence before, having realized how he’d sounded, Nephilim cleared his throat and shifted on his limbs awkwardly. “Uhm – yeah – if you keep going down this path you get to a secluded beach where these weird… long, brown creatures lay out on the sand and swim in the water. They’re loud, too. They’re called seals.” He cleared his throat and smiled (nervous again), “anyways, come on, the Inlet isn’t too far from here.” Nephilim turned to lead them back down the hill, along a small path worn by his hooves and by the creatures who he shared Tinuvel with until he knew he was coming up on Pagan’s border. He’d been quiet except for answering any questions the girls may have asked and stopped short, golden eyes lingering just briefly on Foxglove before he looked back to the border of the Inlet. “The… Inlet’s just that way. I’m sure if you call, Pagan will meet you shortly.”