Nephilim watched Ailill carefully – watched how the previous year had made the stallion grow. They both had, in their own ways and through their own experiences. Nephilim had been forced to awake each morning with the knowledge that he, himself, had failed his family. No one could shoulder the blame for his absence and he would not, under any circumstance, make an excuse for having left them to their fate. Because of this, the confidence he had once possessed as a leader had left him completely. If not for the waking guilt, the nightmares had been sure to strip him of any self-assuredness he’d once possessed within himself.

The hatred and rage burning in Mariael’s eyes broke – just briefly – when Aillil admitted Hollowshank’s absence was no fault of his own. “She’s gone.” She said, and though her voice was flat (for the most part), both her father and sister caught the small break in the words and knew it was with grief she spoke. She worried for her dam and blamed herself for anything which may have happened in her absence.

Nephilim sighed and glanced from Ailill to his daughter. “You don’t know that,” he said carefully, “your mother knew Tinuvel better than the three of us combined. You know how much she liked to explore…” He wouldn’t speak of Hollowshank’s peculiar condition in front of Ailill, knowing it was already a sensitive topic with Mariael. “We only just got back, maybe she’s further inland.” His voice took a concerned tone, attention absorbed into that of his daughter.

Mariael looked at him and for a brief moment in those blue eyes he saw the yearning of his child; a little girl who wanted to cry against her papa’s shoulder, who wanted to break all those walls she’d always erected around her heart. A beat of silence passed and her gaze hardened. “Well if she’s gone, it’s your fault. Whatever happened to her.” Mariael’s voice was cold again and it stung, but Nephilim didn’t waver.

“I know.” He said instead, allowing her to put the blame on his shoulders in the hopes it would lessen any blame she might carry. If he could at least do that for her, even if she hated him for it, he’d know he’d helped her best he could.

Mariael glanced at the stallion and snorted, cracking her still-wet tail against her flank. “Come on Maziel, let’s see if we can find anyone.” With one last cold look at him – though nothing was truly his fault – she moved past him, purposefully smacking his side with another sharp crack of her tail. Maziel sighed and followed after her sister, shooting an apologetic look to the direction she knew the stallion to be, offering a slight smile before the pair moved off and down the way.

Now that they were alone, Nephilim regarded Ailill once more. “I appreciate you attempting to speak up on my behalf.” He said, his words measured. “But I’m afraid if you’re harassing my neighbor for a mare of his, we may have problems once more.”

Nephilim had left before Pagan and had no idea just how empty Tinuvel had become.