“It wasn’t me,” Leukos protested almost immediately, squeaky baby tone offended that he’d possibly take the blame. “It was Iona,” he confessed a beat after and his tone changed completely. It became flat and loud; unashamed. Only a few seasons old and he already knew his older sister and the stress she caused his mother enough to know Iona was almost always to blame.

Zevulun smiled down at the dark freckled boy and had to fight briefly to keep from chuckling too loudly at that. He looked back up at his son and explained, “Iona followed the new Hills leader home and Lilija just wants to make sure she’s gotten there alright.” Hopefully that would be all that was done. Tomorrow in the afternoon he expected to see Lilija returned, likely with the news Iona wanted to stay with Evrain. Zevulun smiled a little wistfully, thinking of his headstrong granddaughter. It was hard to watch his children (and now grandchildren - jeez he was getting old) leave the Prairie, but he understood why they did.

Even Jǫrmungandr’s sister seemed eager to strike out on her own. Soon he knew he would need to follow wherever she decided to plant roots, check in and see what sort of troubles she might be getting up to. Zevulun wondered quietly if Jǫrmungandr would follow her, or stay here. Zevulun had been born with a twin sister, but she’d left with his mother when she was so young, he never developed the closeness he watched his raised twins develop. Ramiel and Raziel had always lived together from Tinuvel to the mainlands and back to the islands again; they'd never lived apart - until these last few seasons. He wondered briefly to himself what the son before him might be considering for his future.

“Would you like to walk with us? I could use another set of eyes on this one.” He reached down to playfully bump his grandson’s shoulder. It was fun to tease Leukos as though he was more trouble than he was. Watching him get flustered made Zevulun want to smile; seeing how bold and outspoken he was in his own defense made Zevulun proud. He’d make a good stallion one day.

Leukos snorted, his little black tail flicking furiously at his hind. “I don’t need that many horses watching me. I’m already almost a whole year old. I could probably go to another island all by myself. Iona went to Atlantis when she was just a year old.”

“Don’t remind me,” Zevulun sighed, bumping Leukos’s hind just hard enough to get him walking before picking up his pale hooves to follow. He’d enjoy patrolling with company - it was honestly his favorite way to patrol the territory. Why fill it with family if he wasn’t going to spend any time with them? They were the reason for everything Zevulun did and everything Zevulun fought for. The legacy he was leaving for his bloodline who would hopefully remain here long, long after he was gone. With a joking tone, Zevulun said, “I felt my knees ache just then.”

All those lonely nights away from the islands, lost and heartbroken, Zevulun had dreamed for moments like this and never felt it would actually happen. Moments spent laughing with his children, with his children’s children, safe and at peace within their own home. It had always seemed like such a far-fetched dream, like something he would never actually know. Something that had slipped his grasp…

Yet here it was.

He looked fondly aside at Jǫrmungandr and said, “And you, you’re getting older too.” Two. The age Zevulun was when he began socializing across the islands and tried to woo pretty girls home. Again he found himself wondering which path his son might choose to take. But perhaps an afternoon stroll with Leukos wasn’t the time to broach such a serious topic. “What’ve you been up to today, Jǫrmungandr?”