Life has a way of sneaking up on you and surprising you when you least expect it. In the midst of blood and snow, Áshildr had vowed never to be taken by surprise again. The gods had thrown claws at her twice when she least expected it and it would not happen again. She was vigilant and strong and like every great Valkyrie of legend, she would prevail.

From way up on the peak she could see all the tiny horses moving around below; tiny insignificant specks on the landscape. She wondered, while she waited, if any of them were looking back up at her; wondering about the distant spot of the mountain face. Were they ever curious about what they might find if they ventured up to the top? Áshildr tipped her head back to observe the very tip of the peak, dark locks of hair tumbling down her powerful shoulders. One day she would make the climb right to the very top. For now though, she would wait to meet the herd on firmer ground. Just thinking about it marked the arrival of a blanketed mare.

There was no fanfare as the mare approached; no trailing followers and no announcement of her rank but there is no mistake. She carries herself with a certain pride, an earned entitlement. Her own footfall may as well have been trumpets to announce the arrival of the mountain herself. Áshildr met her with a steady gaze. While she acknowledged the power in the woman's very being, she did not shrink away from it. When you've faced the ripping of your own flesh and the howl of the winter wind as if it were trying to pulverise you to ash where you stood, very little can move you.

Áshildr took a moment to observe the mare. She was tall and wide and reminded her of how Jezibelle might look now if Jezibelle had been black. It wasn't often Áshildr saw spots on horses, stripes yes, but not spots. If she had not seen such markings before, she might have mistaken it for a sprinkling of snow on the woman’s rear. She wondered silently if such markings were commonplace on the islands. There is little time to dwell on such insignificant questions however.

The mountain greets her. Had she remained in the forest longer, or not earned the silent treatment from Olaf, she would surely have recognised the name of the 'prime minister'. She wondered what, exactly, such a title entailed but is more occupied by pressing matters. "Hail Impazienza of the Peak. I am Ashildr, Nomad of the Flautandi Mountains." Her voice was strong and steady, like the beat of her heart. “The Islands called me home and the mountain called me to her heart and to answer your question, yes, I do wish the call this herd home".

For a long time, her only purpose in life had been finding Kisei and Olaf but now, standing within the very heart of the island, the very real possibly of failure or success niggled at her heart. Once her goals were achieved or abandoned to impossibly, she would have nothing left. If the pair were not on the islands, she knew nowhere else to look that she hadn’t already scoped out on the way. She needed a new purpose, something the quiet the niggle and give her life new meaning. What was mother's death for if her life became meaningless? A herd, the peak; they would become her new purpose, for a life as a stallion's brood mare was as good as the descent into meaninglessness anyway. For now though, she would have to split her time between purposes accordingly.

She fixed the mountain with an unwavering gaze, not content to beat around the bush. "I warn you now however, I have business to attend to that will take me from this summit on a regular basis until my goals are achieved." There was no point in hiding her objectives or pretending she would be something she was not "But do not think me so frivolous so as to declare this my home and all but abandon it to my own pursuits. Word of your mountain will travel far and wide, to all reaches of the islands." Of that, she could be sure.