It had been a good year and a half since Zevulun had somehow managed to scramble his way up the cliffside of the ravine he’d fallen down into. The dangers of the season and a half he spent trapped, away from his loved ones, and swaying back and forth across death’s threshold had done a number on him regardless. The Prairie had maintained relative peace since he had taken it back without conflict. He had only seen the black stallion, Zurok, once, and been told of a temporary return by his son, but any worries he may have had of Zurok following up on his ominous words seemed to be less and less present as days passed.

This meant, of course, that Zevulun should have begun to be able to relax. The fears that plagued him at night should’ve subsided; the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stood among his loved ones, remembering what it was like to be injured and trapped away from them should’ve been long gone. But they weren’t. He was still always worried, always waiting for the next moment trouble would come. Maybe, too, that paranoia came from the fact that that was exactly the pattern his life had taken on since he returned to the islands.

Even watching Castillon rise to his responsibilities as a co-lead and eventual successor should have helped ease those worries. Zevulun knew the Prairie was in good hands, that despite all that had happened between him and Riesling, their boy remained the very best parts of each other. Now that the young stallion was seeming to perform better under the responsibilities of being a leader on the home front, Zevulun decided it was time to add other lessons. Eventually he would send him off to speak with allies and have a taste of the political side of leadership (he hoped in that aspect, Castillon would have a mind more like his mother’s despite how much like his father he was turning out to be).

Today, though, was a different lesson entirely. The third leadership position within the Prairie had remained vacant too long, and Zevulun understood how much easier it was when one could share the burden of leading with another trusted soul. Before fate ruthlessly ripped him away again, Zevulun wanted to make certain Castillon had someone here he trusted to help him take on the responsibility of leading the Prairie and protecting its long-standing peace. He already had a long-time member of the Prairie in mind for a perfect third position, but ultimately decided the decision shouldn’t be his to make. This needed to be one of the first big decisions that Castillon chose.

Zevulun found his son by the pomegranate grove, the trees lush with green leaves and blossoms that’d grow fruit. In just a year Castillon was looking more like a stallion than a colt and, as always, Zevulun felt a small pang of regret strike his chest, knowing Riesling should be able to experience watching him grow as well. He swallowed and set that aside, focusing instead on the importance of the task at hand.

“Hey, dad,” Castillon greeted with a smile as he walked up to meet his father, then, after they shared a couple breaths, he tucked his chin back and asked, “What’s up?”

“C’mon,” Zevulun gestured with his muzzle over his back, so they’d turnabout and walk side-by-side as they spoke. “Do you remember how I’ve talked about how much easier it was to lead the Prairie when I had Balor here as well?”

Castillon was still unaware where his father was leading with this. “Yesss?” he replied while drawing out the word with a heavy bit of suspicion audible in his tone.

“There’s still some time before the Prairie leadership will become your responsibility,” but there was no timeline, and as much as Zevulun faced his mortality from remembering what it was like to be so close to losing it, he never wanted to project that fear onto his children. So, Zevulun didn’t bring up the fact that he could fail to survive another angry mother bear or some other random catastrophe and the weight of it all would drop directly onto Castillon the moment he was gone. “But I think it’d be a good idea for us to officially give someone the third leadership position in the Prairie.” He paused only briefly before clarifying, “and I think you should be the one to pick them.”

“Oh,” Castillon muttered, and Zevulun saw the brief nervousness that came over him at having to make such a large decision.

“If you want to give it some time to think it over, I understand,” Zevulun started, but Castillon’s brown eyes jumped up to meet his father’s and he grinned.

“Actually, I think I know exactly who would be perfect.”

Zevulun assumed they were thinking of the same horse, but still asked, “Who?”

“Lir.”

Lir was not who Zevulun had been thinking of and not because he did not trust the boy or even, in some instances, see him as a pseudo-son, but because of all the hidden reasons Castillon did not and hopefully never would know. Zevulun had assumed the boys had never really become that close, given that Daire and her children spent time away from the herd. “Lir?” Zevulun asked, tilting his head as he looked at his son. He felt a brief touch of panic in his chest - What would happen if Riesling found out? Unfortunately for Zevulun, he was tired of the pain that accompanied thinking of Riesling these days and almost immediately dismissed the question without giving it any thought.

“Yeah! We’ve been spending a lot of time together this past year and we’ve gotten close. I know he’s not actually a blood-relative but he feels like a brother to me. We’ve practically grown up together, we’re the same age, I think I could trust him, and I think this responsibility would be important for him.” Castillon explained and Zevulun was left even more dumbfounded, realizing Castillon had become best friends with his uncle without ever realizing it was his uncle. He wondered if he should ask Daire what she thought of it all… but Castillon would wonder why he was being so hesitant and weird, and questions would arise that shouldn’t…

“Well, in that case, I can’t think of a reason why you shouldn’t have Lir at your side.” Zevulun concluded slowly though he felt some creeping of dread waiting in the wings.

“Great! Let’s go tell him!” Castillon said excitedly, dark tail lifting off his pale haunches as he tossed his head and began to trot, encouraging Zevulun to pick up his pace or be left behind. Zevulun shook his head to push aside his worries. Maybe he was just so paranoid about when everything would explode in his face, every new situation looked exactly like a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse.

Castillon whinnied out as they drew closer to where he must’ve seen or known Lir would be, then drew to a slow halt. Zevulun pulled to a stop beside him, looking for the boy who was basically a son to him. He was proud, too, but he wanted to be prouder of this moment. He wanted to not have to worry about all the secrets in the shadows and be happy for his son that he had someone he trusted that he could answer so quickly who he wanted to share the responsibility of the Prairie with. He wanted his chest to swell as he looked upon the two young men and saw the future shaping for the home he had worked so hard to keep… he didn’t want the claws of dread to find a way to sink in shortly after.