When it came to the mares, Isengrim had mostly avoided interaction. After all most of them belonged to someone, whether officially as a companion or unofficially as a prisoner. He wasn't sure how he felt about the entire arrangement. On one hand the lagoon was known for taking what they wanted and stirring up trouble, and maybe that's the way it was meant to be. But on the other hand, how would he feel if it was his mother that was trapped in this fetid swamp. Not great. Though he wasn't sure she'd be feeling happy about his current circumstance if she was aware. He hoped she didn't know. He hoped that she would never feel disappointment in him. With a shake of his head to rid himself of silly thoughts, Isengrim turned down a different path.

The muck squelched with every step, the mud threatening to hold fast to his legs. His first few months here had left him walking everywhere with his knees in his eyeballs, attempting to stay free of the mire. He'd eventually realized it was fruitless and let what happen, happen. Even if it meant his legs were often caked in mud and slime. He was not averse to being a lagoon stallion but sometimes he wouldn't have minded it being in a slightly cleaner location.

His original plan had been to head to the sea to wash himself off. But he halts, turning his head in the direction of sounds. The lagoon's trees and brush were always shifting but his quivering nostrils told him this was no errant wind or wild animal. The mare came into view and he furrowed his brow. His mud-caked tail flicked across his haunches in a lazy fashion.

"You have something on your face."

The leaves clung to her hair, framing her in a delicate green. He had to admit they looked better on her than the trees, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Isengrim turns in the direction of the shore, silently mulling over what he wanted to do. Linger or move on? He didn't recognize her scent, but he hadn't spoken to any of the women or children, so she could have been here already or she could be a wanderer. And he owed it to his brothers to find out. "Who are you?" It was said brusquely, and perhaps a little too accusatory, but he flicked his ears forward in a small attempt at appearing docile.