Jormungandr did not know much about Skylar. She knew her scent and had caught a brief glance of her painted hide before the mare was whisked back to the crossing but that was about it, other than what she had been told and the opinions she had formed because of it. She knew the mare more or less abandoned the herd to visit the peak and spent so long there that she could not physically return until giving birth. Jormungandr wondered why the trip could not have waited until after the birth in the first place. When she finally returned, with two fillies in tow, she barely gave them a chance to rest before allowing herself to be whisked back to the peak. While Jormungandr understood more than most the pull a place can have, she also understood it was not all about her own needs. The forest and its herd are her home and to be elsewhere would be beyond difficult. She would have found a way to do what was right for her without screwing everyone else over in the process.

She does not expect it when Skylar’s scent is wrapped up in the breeze. She had assumed since Skylar had left so rapidly, with seemingly no cares for the forest before or after, that she would never return. Jormungandr assumed that she would always make Lyden go to her to see his daughters and that the forest herd would never hear of Skylar again once the fillies were grown. Perhaps Jormungandr had been wrong about Skylar in some respects. Perhaps she had taken the bad points, the total disregard for the forest herd, to heart and painted Skylar in a poorer light than she deserves. Lyden had always spoken well of Skylar despite his clear irritation at her absences, perhaps Jormungandr can see what he once saw.

She has already caught wind of the mare’s presence before the nicker breaks the gentle quiet that surrounded the forest. Jormungandr drew her gaze away from the trees to let it fall onto the painted mare, carefully noting every detail. It briefly occurs to the buckskin mare that Skylar could be here to cause further trouble but she pushes such thoughts from her mind. Surely, with the twins accompanying her, she cannot be planning anything untoward.

Jormungandr moves forwards to meet the mare, her head and tail held high and proud. There is a sense of power in her stride, an unwavering confident. She reaches out to exchange breaths as the two meet in the middle of their respective paths. ”Skylar” she greets, a stoniness in her tone ”I am Jormungandr, lead mare of the forest. Can I help you?”