In the dead of cold, the happiness Pagan felt at being able to watch the foals around him play and tease each other made him warm enough he was sure he could have melted the entire island. The fire of life was alight with the sun above them, though the cold it rained down was still bitter. Sons of his own and sons of Braylen skittered across the ice, their varying coats a spectacle before his eyes. The grin that glowed across his face when mothers, and mothers to be, approached could not be washed away or beaten from him. This was what he was alive to witness. The world and the energy, the nature of life enjoying in the nature of the world. Dark eyes looked up when still more had come to the gathering. The unmistakable form of Nephilim and, unless Pagan was very mistaken, daughters of his. The grin of pleasure still continued to grow as his neighbor seemed to trust him enough to bring his own offspring over the boarder. He called out a friendly greeting to the stallion as the pearly form of his own son came skidding into him from a distance and sent them both slipping over to a snow bank. Laughing, the vanner man tossed his head and lipped at the colt, sending the boy in the opposite direction, towards Nephili and the girls. Taking a breath and stepping onto the snow, Pagan made his own way to the quiet form of Amica. Whether he meant to or not, the snow under his hooves crunched audibly as he approached, though his shape save his legs blended into the white. “Amica.” He greeted softly, taking her in and breathing in her scent when he touched her with his nose. “Come with me, I promised many eyes would watch over your. I would like you to meet them!” With a warm smile that could be felt in his voice, he guided the buckskin to where Abigail watched the play. “Abigail, this is Amica.” He bowed his head to the other mare, grinning at her, happy to see her enjoying the day. “Amica, this is Abigail. A member of Braylen’s family, and a very good friend of mine.” --- --- --- The laughter was thick in the air, and it was light on my lips even as I dashed towards my father. The cold and the death of the world around me meant little to nothing when the lights of life burned so bright in the souls around me. I look to each that I play with, all of them glowing with a beauty that I already know is breathtaking. It is the fire of a family, it is the flame of friends, that drives away the dark of winter’s wrath. They all shined. All but one. A red and white boy, aflame in his body and soul. He skittered along the ice and I could not help but laugh. I had seen him around, he was not one of my father’s but like all he had been accepted as though his blood also ran through my veins. Innate good nature still seemed to glitter on the red colt, even if his obvious displeasure overtook his expression. It was another presence that caught my attention at once. Mariael and Maziel, along with their father. A soft snort cleared the snow from my nose and I trotted from the bank I had landed in to greet them. I eyed the stallion with my clear blue eyes and nodded to him, holding my head high in the pride I know my father had shown in me. “Welcome to the Inlet.” I said to the three of them before smiling at the fillies. “You had asked about this place, I am happy you have come to visit it.” I look back at the stallion, growing more sure he is their father, though not exactly sure how to speak to him. “Sir, can they come play? I vow to watch over them.” --- --- --- The scent of young women filled Dmitrei’s nose. Coupled with the presence of competition enraged the white masked golden boy. This was NOT all fun and games. Shrieking in fury, Dmitrei shot out of the snow, scrambled for purchase on the ice and ran as fast as he could in the direction of Basilio. Half brother or not, he was going to beat that pretty hide into the ground before the red could flash his shiny colors at the new arrivals. One way or another, Dmitrei was determined to make this territory his. In his anger (and hormonal confusion), the boy once again overshot and collided with the snow. Only this time, the topple was far more flailing than any he had done thus far. All four hooves had somehow managed to go through the air above him and his body landed in the snow where he struggled with all his might to get back to his feet. But the snow was thick, and he was confused, giving Basilio more than enough time to react to Dmitrei’s misguided, and big-headed, attempts of machismo.