“Mariael? What is it? What happened?”

Anguish became his daughter’s face, the daughter he knew hurt more than she ever let on, which in turn always made his heart ache. He wanted the world for his children but even he was powerless against its might. All he could do was what he did now, reach out to them and offer his love, compassion, and care.

“Someone tried to take mama,” she said, and she sounded so little, so much of her age, that he was reminded how young she was. Mariael always acted so strong, so brave, that Nephilim forgot how easily she could break.

Of course it was her words which made him angry. His sorrow for his daughter was quick to flip into rage, a sudden fire roaring in his belly. He lifted his head sharply, ear twitching, gold eyes burning as they searched the area around him. “Where? Who was it?” It was as if he expected to see the culprit still standing there, waiting for him. His foreleg lifted and stomped down hard onto the tundra ground below, the energy vibrating at the contact.

“He’s gone,” said Mariael, watching the anger on her father’s face and feeling frightened. She’d never seen her father angry… frustrated, maybe, but never enraged. “He was little anyways,” she said, trying to recover, suddenly being the one to try and calm her father down. “He left mama here and said you should meet him in Paradise, he only wanted to talk to you…”

“Talk to me?” Huffed Nephilim, incredulous. He pulled his gaze from the Bay and looked toward Mariael, immediately catching on to how nervous she appeared. “Stay with your mother,” he said firmly, “and keep her with the herd. Keep Maziel with you as well. This could be a trick to lure me from Tinuvel. Make sure Amaranthe knows where I’ve gone and why. She’ll protect you if something happens.”

Mariael nodded before Nephilim turned about, making his way down the beach toward the cold sea. He’d just returned from a trip to Crossing Isle and his muscles ached, but Nephilim would be damned before he waited to see who this Ailill was and just why he wanted to speak with him so badly…


**********


Atlanis was thickly warm – humid. The moment Nephilim climbed from the turquoise waters (so different from Tinuvel’s deep blue, almost black sea) he snorted and flicked his ears back in distaste. The sand was much softer too, which somehow Nephilim found a way to be grumpy about. In all actuality he was just searching for reasons to hate everything about Atlantis, about this place the stallion Ailill lived…

He had failed his family. It wasn’t reasonable that he should put so much pressure on himself – there were times he was to be away from the herd to recruit or to keep tabs on the location of Tinuvel’s predators – but he still did. For two years he’d had no one and, suddenly, he had a herd – he had daughters. He could not fail any of them, how would they look at him once they realized he could not protect him? Would they leave him, one by one? Would one day he awake to find himself alone in the Bay?

He marched up the shoreline, feeling exhaustion deep in his bones from the swim, mainly because he’d already swam to and from Crossing Isle already that day. Maybe he should have waited… if he’d have waited until the morning he’d have more energy. If Ailill wanted a fight, Nephilim would be at a severe disadvantage.

Nephilim stopped at the shoreline, water dripping off his thick coat (already growing in preparation of Tinuvel’s winter to come) and ocean at his back. He lifted his head and bellowed a call, beckoning Ailill to come meet him.