Áshildr was no stranger to fighting horse and beast, or even tangling with mother nature herself. That did not mean she enjoyed it however. There was a certain rush she felt during battle and immediately after but it was not worth the potential damage it could cause to her already battered frame. Perhaps if her left hind leg did not hinder her movement she would be more willing to throw herself into battle. Of course, she was not afraid to fight. She would do so when it was absolutely necessary but she preferred to win her battle with brains rather than brawn. A shame really, the sheer power of her frame would serve her well as a warrior.

It followed then, that when the mountain suggest she might join the ranks of the warriors, the bald faced bay mare snorted a laugh. ”I would not think so.” she chuckled, ”I’ have had even conflict in my life. Tangling with the wild side makes you appreciate the moments where you do not have to fight all the more. I prefer to win my battles with words.” There were few disagreements that could not be settled with a certain measure of confidence, charm and wit. She had learned where to compromise and where to remain stony and resolute. Perhaps those qualities would serve her well as a Politian of the peak.

Her eyes drifted from the blanketed mare, down the side of the peak. All of a sudden, the weariness of her journey to the islands and up the mountainside hit her like a speeding train. She heaved a fatigued sigh, ”I hope you do not mind but it has been a long journey, I think I might take a moment to rest.”. With that, the heavy mare excused herself, moving off to find some shelter to snooze in.