Tinuvel was beautiful in the summer. Nephilim marveled how a world so frigid could become temperate; how a place dressed in the brightest whites could become rich in vibrant shades of green. The nights were still cold, as were the mornings, but it was nothing like the cold of autumn and winter. What would have become of him if he hadn’t managed to find Fly and Hollowshank that very first winter he’d washed up on the shore? He likely would have died, which wasn’t a very harmonious thought to keep.

The young (though now mature) stallion moved through the place he called home, early day sun brushing his gold-peppered hide as he went. For the first time in months, Nephilim had slept through the night. Though his guilt was not completely alleviated (and could likely never be), it appeared returning to the Bay had its own special magic.

For having spent the first year and a half of his life as a vagrant with no home, confused, oblivious to the wordhome… Nephilim learned quickly what the word meant. Surviving his first winter in the Bay and learning to love it through its seasons had changed him and being away from it for so long had slowly taken its toll. The guilt he’d shouldered by having left his family behind among its chill had done nothing to lessen the blow.

Now he was home. Mariael had control of the Bay. Things were changing and Nephilim was trying to simply step back and allow it to be however it was going to be. It appeared having spent most her childhood by his side as he patrolled borders had helped form Mariael into the mind of a leader. He was proud of her and hoped one day their relationship would be well enough he could tell her so.

A call broke the air and Nephilim froze immediately not only in step, but in thoughts. Every muscle was suddenly frozen. His ears twitched and rotated, dark nostrils spread as he greedily drank in a few breaths. Was he in a dream? Gold eyes flashed this way and that, glancing over and around to see if the world morphed strangely or if there were phantom children lurking, waiting to have flesh melt from their bones…

No… this wasn’t a dream.

Nephilim stumbled because he moved forward so quickly, his hooves almost couldn’t catch up. Thankfully he managed to find his stride and after letting loose a whinny that was as excited as it was anxious. Winding around thick brush whose branches snagged at his hide (not that he took any notice), Nephilim spotted both Dances and Sai, his heart lifting for different reasons at the sight of them. A rumbling whicker sounded behind closed lips, never once slowing his pace.

He might as well have crashed into them both, and he was fast to rub his whiskered lips along each of their crests, their necks, pulling affectionately at their hair. By the time he managed to gain control of himself, Nephilim’s gold eyes were shining.

“Sai! Dances!! I never thought I’d see you again I –” He broke off shortly, the smile falling away from his lips and the light dimming in his gaze. In just one instant he’d gone from relieved to seeing them to remembering why it was such an ordeal that he was. Just like everyone else in the Bay, he’d left them behind too.

And when last he’d seen Sai, her sides had been swelling with the promise of their child. He saw no yearling at her side and feared the worst.