The look on Berit’s face was always and only reserved for the stallion who had begun to improve her sense of self-reliance. It had always been a trial for her to believe she could do things on her own in the Old World. Being given so much space, however, makes her crave it so much less that she does end up, by Harlequins speech, by his side -- their barrels touching as they breathed. The initial interaction offered by Harlequin had stemmed her misgivings about being summoned, as well as her grumpiness about being made to wrangle her sons. If Harlequin had thick enough skin to not take offense at the remote irritation in a herdmates tone -- well, then she was worth a listen to, after all.

She notes her two elder sons, her ears only flicking back mildly when Vulcan turned up with a hint of The Crossing in his scent. The boy was getting old enough that a trip of such size was not going to continue to be uncommon. It makes her heart sad, but her attention only wavers until her other son comes to greet her and she finds herself warmed by his affection. She is relaxed here, allowing the presence of many eyes and ears soothe her so that she might not feel so tightly bound to watching the three boys.

She lips at Carbon’s forelock with a small tug and nuzzles a large muzzle into his growing shoulder. It was getting easier and easier to do such things without bowing-- and Enoch’s sudden decision to return to her is all that keeps her from losing her attention from the meeting entirely. When attention was back on Harlequin again, Berit’s was sharply affixed. "I call you together today because I feel we have been adrift long enough. I feel I speak for all of us when I say that while Cain has done well for us, the absence of a lead mare is becoming more notable as the days pass."

Again, leadership. Some part of her that had led her to ask Cain of whether she might rise to his side bristles at the newest suggestion of someone being nominated for the position. The rest of her, however, listened more closely. She knew that at least the discussion was warranted, if nothing else, and she nods when Harlequin says as much. "”I do not wish to take this role myself, finding contentment in simply being a guardian and advising when requested. However, I do feel that we all have the same thoughts in mind. We must come together and make a decision. At the very least discuss the matter together. We all have a voice here, Cain has made sure of that. Now it is time for us to use that voice."

"I see our lead mare as a diplomat. Someone at ease with greeting strangers and welcoming new members with introductions. And yet I also see our lead mare as one ready and willing to defend us should an intruder mean us ill will. Does anyone else have any suggestions or thoughts on this matter?"

Berit’s face is impassive at first, though Harlequin does look at her long enough to have been searching for an answer and not just idle agreement. "I have noticed the flow of discussion regarding the one who would stand by Cain as his equal, that is certain enough." She sounds almost as if she finds humor in the sudden uptick of ambition exhibited by the women who had supped well on Cain’s intentions. "Harlequin describes a greeter and diplomat; a leader and sentinel. I may perform the latter on a whim or do the latter if I must - but I am a Mother first, a Love second, and a fervent believer in the Old Way. I am no lead mare by the standards of Harlequin, nor my own beliefs."

Take herself out of the running first, it was the best way. Too many Alphas and Betas here as it was. She was glad to remain only who she was to those who mattered most and dearest. Cain. Vulcan. Carbon. Enoch. None other would find her so accommodating amongst the herd. Perhaps this made her tunnel-visioned. Perhaps it made her look foolish for clinging to a way of life that even Cain did not value at the same level -- but it was her choice.

"But I would not follow one who could not do as Harlequin said either, nor would I obey one who believes in the power of the position over the responsibility held by accepting it." She stands now by Cain’s shoulder, pointedly where she believed her place to be. Beside, but behind. A follower of his future, a believer in his tender care and protection, and a mother to whatever children he would gift to her. "I would need to be able to entrust myself and my children, innumerable as they may become," she offers in a lighter note than her grave tone had previously implied, "to this person without a breath of doubt. That is what it would take to win my vote."