No longer a nomad, the bald faced mare would have to find a new title for herself and completely shed her ties to the whispering mountains she used to call home. It made sense to trade one mountain for another.; to embrace the familiarity of the terrain.

When the blanketed mare welcomes her, she merely gives a brief nod of acknowledgement before getting to the more important topic of her impending, frequent absences. She bobs her head at Impazienza's clarification. She did not assume that any of the women would be confined to the mountain but her excursions could be long. She did not wish to be thought a flake, uncommitted or unmotivated. Perhaps it is a part of her personality to prove herself worthy - be it to her peers, her family or the Gods themselves.

At the mention or mares arriving but not staying long, she gives a small smile. "Not everyone is suited to this life. Some buck against tradition for the sake of it only to find it is the one thing that gives their life meaning" She did not pity those who did not know how to define themselves without a stallion; they were happy with their choices just as she was happy with hers. Áshildr herself had bucked against all trends and lived as a nomad with no herd to call home. Without the islands under her hooves she would have been doomed to be lost for the rest of her days.

Her ears twitch at Impazienza’s line of questioning and she glances briefly round at the scars that trailed over her rump. The issue of her scars always came up sooner or later and she was surprised. They were an interesting and distinguishing feature after all. She chuckles softly at the mare’s comment, "Big cats." She clarified, "though I would have preferred the wolf."