Berit was hardly a creature who’d latch onto others, instead preferring to confer most of her attention on those who most needed such a thing. Cain, when he wished - of course - was a favorite. Her boys, though, were the main bread and butter of her existence. Carbon with his new island hopping behavior, Vulcan with his smelling terrifyingly of cold mountains his own self -- Enoch growing up through the burning summer to be the most outrageously stand-out creature in the center of the tan desert. Black as an eclipse given life, like a bite of cavernous darkness taking its own breath, she had a time to keep him from turning raw in the brilliant sunlight - but even then the boy did not seem to bleach in the same manner as his mother and brother.

She had allowed him to explore on this particular day - so when there was a summons she begrudgingly collected him and brought both herself and her attached child - whistling to Carbon and Vulcan so that if they had almost made it out of the desert and to the shore, they’d know now was not the time for wandering from their mother.

Her approach is guarded, but she knows the voice to be Harlequin regardless and so there is a patience for the command of her presence. Just as much patience as she had afforded Chimeras when she had called them all to a vote. Her amber eyes shine when they light on Cain - properly still smitten as much as she could ever be expected to be after the loss of her first mate. Fjäll had fallen to their son Oväder and it had made her cautious to sell her whole soul and heart both, especially when neither she nor Cain were prepared to dive so utterly into that sort of love that she was most comfortable with. Call her old school, but her perfect world was a little too old-school for most in this world.

Enoch, keeping his dark self directly in her shadow and then the shadow of his father, she looks back to Harlequin after a sweeping glance for others. "Harlequin, I have to admit I am torn between hoping this is desperately needed -- and hoping that I can just complain to you about being called to a meeting while juggling three sons with every bit of their father’s endurance and penchant for escaping to the far reaches of this world..." She lets the other mare see her weariness in a short glimpse to encourage forgiveness for her poor greeting. "And I am not fond of bringing Enoch into the sun if I can help it." Her eyes go again to her boy, if only to grab another glance at her love.