Nephilim shared a brief look of relief with Castillon. Since Vervain’s disappearance it had been Castillon and Chati who kept the silver paint somewhat sane. He might’ve been lost to the pursuit of finding her so much that he neglected to care for himself, but they were there constantly both to remind him when to rest and to tell him when to get back to searching. All those wretched days were behind them now, and Nephilim knew that must be what Castillon was thinking and why he looked so happy…
But Nephilim could not stop thinking of the changes he had already seen in Vervain. The fear she had learned. His stomach twisted over but before his thoughts could turn too dark, the sight of movement at Vervain’s hips drew his eyes. It was Vela, looking at him for some sort of reassurance, and Nephilim felt his chest tighten. He’d only met the little girl when he’d come across Vervain, but he already loved and cherished her as though she were theirs. He offered her a kind smile and turned himself from the gathering group just a little so he could lower his boxy head and reach out to gently offer his muzzle to her.
Zevulun had caught sight of the movement and his happy gaze drew away from Daire and Vervain and settled instead at the little babe behind her that Nephilim appeared to be comforting. He felt something tighten in his stomach and immediately pushed away any thoughts of something wretched to have brought the girl into the world. The important thing was that no matter where they had been, they were home now, and this little girl would be cherished and loved just as much as every other child of the Prairie was.
“Hello there,” Zevulun said softly, always having a way with children, and lowered his pale face to peek along her mother’s side at her. When she looked at him, he smiled. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Castillon glanced from the little filly his father was talking to and then to Vervain, a million questions suddenly in mind.
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