Abraham cannot peel his eyes away from his mother after his words. He stares at her, her gaunt body, ripped and demolished by childbirth and death. He feels tear swell and spill over his eyelids, soak his cheeks, and run off the thick of his jowls. He does nothing to stop them, letting the pain escape through the bounty of the salty waterfalls. The leviathan closes his eyes, and Gwyn sings a song of lament, though it is quiet and meant only for them. The youngest son says his last good byes and turns his attention to his remaining family.

Abraham moves to stand with his shoulder pressed against his grey brother's, letting Reginald speak. He offers to follow the filly to the Throat and Abraham nods in agreement, mismatched eyes following up to his father. "I will go, too." He does not challenge the authority of the Dauntless, not ready to feel the sting of that bite. He was a coming two year old, a man, and he knew his father would not be lax in punishment--especially against his offspring. Had the twins been in the position of Macaria, Archibald would act just as ferociously protective.

Abraham turns his eyes down to the grey girl. She was the spitting image of their mother, and a spark of envy popped in the depths of Abraham's chest. She looked like Reginald, his twin, whom Abraham did not resemble in the slightest. Why was nature so weird? Despite it all, the young titan was enraptured by the girl. She was delicate, blown glass beneath three hurricanes. No harm would fall on her, for death would ensue to those that even harboured the thought, dealt swiftly by Reginald, Archibald, himself, or all three. The men would protect the girl. Love her. She was perfect. Gwyneverre lowered into Abraham's forelock, resting her cheek against his horns.

He was brought back to attention by the adults' conversations. He wanted to snarl at them all, he did not know them. He did not trust them. He saw hesitation in his father, until a green eyed, black and white mare stepped forward and offered her services. Abraham's eyes narrowed darkly, but if he trusted anyone in this circle it was his family--and between Reginald and Archibald, the sire was more knowledgeable on the needs of babes. "Reginald...I agree with father. We can go with her there, where we can be together." Abraham turned his eyes to his brother, hoping there would be agreement and grace, but he imagined anger to pour from Reginald's mouth. The grey was not being followed unquestioned, as he was so accustomed to, and Abraham knew too-well the sting of kicked pride.