Bran felt lost amid a sea of torrential emotions. There was a part of him that wanted to march right up to his father and demand to know where his mother was. He wanted to know why it was her who had been taken and why the stallion had to willingly given her up. Of course he was not blind. He knew that there was conflict between his parents. Mother had always been open with him. She told him that it was just grown up stuff, changing emotions and conflict that was bound to arise within a herd. Bran knew there was more to it than that but always she would simply nuzzle him and remind him of how much she loved him and that there was nothing that would ever change that. Then there was a part of him that wanted to charge off into the ocean waves, to battle against the surging surf and frigid waters in search of her himself. He was not a baby anymore, or so he tried to remind himself. He was nearly the same size as father now and his once soft baby fur had long since been replaced by the sleek thin coat of smokey brown color. He could make it, the swim back to the main islands. Perhaps he would be able to find her scent there?

But always the more rational side of him won out. How did he know that the main island is where Liland sent her? How did he know how to get there without the guiding touch of Larka or Liland to show him the way? Mother had always warned him how easy it was to get lost once the shores were at his back. She had told him more than once of the little foal who had thought himself brave and left the shores without a guiding hoof. She told him how the colt had gotten turned around as it was so easy to do and could not ever find his way back home. She had told him that the colt was once her own father, and that was how he had come to be so alone on the mainlands where he had been forced to learn to fight and survive till adulthood. He had grown into a mighty stallion but never again would he venture beyond the surf's edge. Of course Bran thought the story nothing more than a colorful attempt to keep him safe, but still, it was that thought that kept his feet firmly planted on the Bay's shores.

Lobes flicker backwards as Rayna calls to him, approaching with two other foals in tow. For a moment pale eyes flicker over the two newcomers, clearly twins for there is nothing else that would explain their similarity in appearance. Bran lifts his own small muzzle as twin ears perk amid the tumble of charcoal colored locks. They smelled familiar, father's scent was on them true but something else. Someone else.

Rayna introduces them as siblings, and to this Bran cocks his head. He hadn't seen them around but father had gone on and on about his lost queen. Perhaps these were their foals? He shoots a quick gaze down the beach where father's thick voice arose but he makes no attempt to ask him any questions. No doubt he would not get any real answers anyway. As one of the twins offers him a timid voiced greeting, Bran turns back to them. A warm smile meets them though insecurity hangs over his form as though it were attached to his skin. "Hey" he murmurs, his skin shuddering as another icy blast of wind whips across his face. He gives a snort and shakes his head, ridding his view of the troublesome forelock that seemed to forever hinder his vision. A single ear lobe falls backwards as the curiosity gets the best of him, "You guys just get to the island?" he asks, doing his best to sound as friendly as possible but relying heavily on Rayna to lead the conversation. It was what she did best anyway.