Their initial hostility doesn’t sway Garmr’s desire to converse with his brothers. In fact, it does the very opposite. His ears that are usually always tipped back or buried in his thick, split mane, tip forward and his emerald eyes sparkle akin to satisfaction. Maybe later they would spar with him. Or in the very least, perhaps they would take such irritations out during a raid? Garmr would gladly invite them along to wherever they wanted to cause chaos.


When Marko invites him to explain, Garmr gives a small nod. If they had been invested in Nahawi’s plans, he doubted they would have ever let him get so far. “Keeping secrets is the first toxic thing in a relationship, is it not?” the stallion said, his emerald eyes lingering on Kristjan the longest. Marko had not been the only one to smell the mare on him, but Garmr didn’t ask for her name, or anything pertaining to her to turn their hostility into true fury. “I think having a healthy relationship among the brothers is important. But it’s hard when things we want get taken away.”


Garmr’s eyes drifted over to Marko then. With his clear fiery temper, he wondered how many fights he might have picked, if the efforts wouldn’t be in vain? “It’s restricting, isn’t it?” he asked, before nodding his head towards the distant Peak. “We haven’t even been asked to fight for our brothers. Only to be quiet and complacent in the dark.” Garmr let out an irritated snort. “All the things we should be able to do if not for…..” Garmr doesn’t say his name, but the meaning is obvious. The change he had spoken of obvious.


GARMR