“Rivals.” Snorted Nephilim, a dry laugh in his throat. His tail snapped at his haunches. Whether or not the yearling had good intentions with Hollowshank and Mariael was beside the point. It still stood, particularly in what he said, that he had exposed Nephilim’s weakness. How could he promise to protect them when it was so clear he wouldn’t? This yearling had showed them all that his protection was nothing but words, nothing but a play, and how were they to keep faith in that?

“Whether you keep them a day, a week, a month, or forever, the damage is done.” His words were no less hard, no less striking, but they didn’t hold the same fiery lick of rage they had before. They were cold; they were stone. “To them. To my family. To my home. You’ve damaged my home and I don’t take kindly to it. You’re not playing games anymore, kid. You’re fucking with family now.”

But could he, in good faith, charge this yearling down? Could he pummel him with hooves and muscle until he left him bruised, bloody, and lame? Could he return to the Bay and feel better knowing what he’d done? He wanted to… he wanted to hurt the colt, but that was only a reaction of his anger. He drew a breath and wondered what Mariael would think, what Maziel would think, to know their father beat a colt merely half a season older than they were. To think of his daughter only brought further guilt… how upset Mariael would have been to have been taken from Maziel… from the Bay…

He could have lost his daughter. She looked up to him…

Why? He had failed her.

His ears turned back, gold eyes flashed. Renewed by the anger still hot in his gut, Nephilim let his eyes return to the gold and white colt. “You’re lucky I have more respect than you do, boy. You’ll see me again. This disrespect will not go unanswered.”

With that, he turned. Leaving no room for further discussion, no room for further talk. He charged into the shore, ignoring the ache of his sore, tired muscles, ignoring everything to swim home with his heart pounding hard and heavy against his chest. He needed home. He needed his daughters. He needed to promise them, to swear to them, that he would do everything he could to not fail them again.

Come spring, Ailill would hear from Nephilim again.