Losing to one of the Lagoon bachelors and volunteering herself to be their captive was a wrench thrown in the plan, but Oswin wasn’t entirely bothered. Both she and Vita Nova needed to be there for their children and couldn’t expect to leave the island until the time was right, not even for Nephilim. As sorry as Oswin felt for him, she understood his aggression against the world was often perpetuated further by himself and his negative outlook on life. It’d been three years since he’d been mauled and cast offshore to the mainlands; Zevulun was grown with children of his own.
Oswin sighed, glancing at the far away shoreline, and turned to look at her sister. She smiled and reached out, fondly bumping Nova’s neck with her muzzle. “Thank you for doing this.” It was all she could say when really, she wanted to say so much more. She worried what Nephilim’s reaction would be, but knew Nova was strong enough to stand steadfast against him. Oswin had hoped Dances love would be enough to pull Nephilim free, but apparently it hadn’t been enough.
The girls parted ways – Oswin bestowing the directions to Nova. Just a short two hour’s walk after landing on the shoreline would bring her to the secluded forest valley in which Nephilim resided.
“Give him hell.”
*****
Quiet. Nothing moved or spoke among the trees except the wind, and even that was only a tease which brushed the tree tops and made the leaves rustle. Nephilim, barely turned seven years old this last spring, would have been coming in to his prime as a stallion, yet he stood – emaciated, lame, one-eyed and defeated in spirit. He ate enough to stay alive, conscious of not over-grazing this secluded space. He walked only around the small valley and did not go further, afraid of what temptations would lie beyond the hills should he muster up the strength to climb them.
He’d become dependent on Oswin’s monthly visits to tell him how his children were, but Oswin had a child of her own. He’d thought maybe, when a few months passed, she’d come back to him... but three months turned to six and six to ten… Nephilim wondered if she’d come back at all.
The nightmares continued to plague him. He dreamed so vividly he awoke frequently with gasping breaths, sweat-lathered skin, and a racing heartbeat. He saw the death’s of his loved ones and felt his inability to do anything about it. He saw the snapping teeth of the pale mare, her pinned ears and flying hooves. He felt every time he was hit. He saw the wolves – though they became more beast than reality, their teeth and evil-eyes more accentuated than they’d been. He saw the carcasses of his dead children. He saw Nova, abandoned and alone in Tinuvel, wandering – because of him. He saw all those he’d hurt and all those he’d lost…
He cried often.
If Oswin did not return to him by the following spring, Nephilim wondered if he could hold to a will to live at all. Without news coming from the islands and knowledge of whether his children were okay his worry grew more and more tremendous with each day that passed. Perhaps it was as he deserved. No, Nephilim knew it was as he deserved. He was brought into this world through fear and pain and heartbreak and hatred… it should speak to something that he should go out broken, alone, and forgotten.
A rustle of noise from above the hilltop pulled toward his ears and Nephilim sighed – he was lying on his side among the summer grass, chin tucked in over his foreleg. His one eye stayed closed.
The world wasn’t ready to let him go just yet, it seemed. Oswin must have returned for him. Slowly, mindful of his lame leg and numerous injuries which had healed as best they could, Nephilim rose. Lifting his head, he turned his one remaining ear and opened his one remaining, dull-gold eye to where he assumed Oswin would appear.
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