Dögun
We'll ride in the gathering storm
Summer transformed into Autumn, the gilded and crimson hues washing over the Tundra. Transforming the dull browns of late summer into the beautiful colors of the Fall. But the warmth of fall would not last long, as winter's breath knocked on their door. Tinuvel was already presenting the signs of winter, with the mountain peaks in a light dusting of snow. This winter, he had more mare to try to keep out of harms way. It was a daunting task when he knew in the back of his mind that the wolves would be looking to gorge themselves on horseflesh. But at-least he had the assistance of Grai, he had already proven that he was more than capable of keeping the herd safe.
Flicking his dark tipped ears, he believed it was time that he paid a visit to his neighbor to the north. A nicker is let out to Freya to inform her where he was going so that she would not worry about his sudden disappearance. Positioning his body to the north, he breaks into a ground-covering trot. Where the herd was now was not far from the border which was a relief, he had moved them there in favor of better grazing. Lifting his dark crown higher he breathes in the fresh mountain air, his nostrils quiver with each breath. A sharp masculine scent, reaches his outstretched nostrils. Slowing at the border, he raises his head higher on his muscled neck, his frosted ebony tail flagged out behind him.
Opening his dark maw, a deep bugle is thrown into the air, alerting Soljor that he was waiting at the border. Dögun figured with the change of seasons it would be time to speak with his neighbor. Patiently the grullo waits.
Icelandic | Grullo [ Ee aa Dd] | 13.2 hh
King of the Inlet
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