Brynja was no stranger to group life. The all-mare herd of her origins was a shining example of efficiency: without the aid of a stallion, they managed to protect each other from predators and live well amongst the snow-laden hills and valleys. Brynja's childhood had been hard, but she never feared for her safety or the livelihood of her herd. They were a large group, and they all worked with the interests of each other in mind. A broken herd was a recipe for disaster: if the bonds between herdmates were weak, they were more susceptible to predators, bandits, and an eventual dissolution of the group entirely. Life alone was an even harsher existance.
It only made sense for them to work together, to cooperate. Finding food and shelter was a group effort, and all enjoyed the spoils. In the Forest, with the basic comforts of life well-secured, discord began to breed like a disease between the mares. Brynja sensed an undercurrent of tension mounting beneath the soil, gaining speed. She noticed it most particularly when Vercingetorix went amongst them; though the mares would talk to him gleefully, they mostly ignored each other, something that dismayed the ruddy mare and caused her to avoid the striped lead stallion. She tried to keep near the other females, but so far had only managed to speak with Nymeria, the stocky thunder-gray mare with two fillies. Nobody seemed interested in cooperating, and it worried Brynja more than she cared to admit.
But Brynja was not one to sit and fuss over her problems. Standing in the wet, new-fallen leaves, the Warmblood mix swept her brown eyes across the small group of mares, her stare determined. It was only a matter of time before the emotions running between the group came to a head; If she brought their issues out and into the open, she might be able to diffuse some of the tension beneath it and help them all work together as one. Today was as good a day as any, for the rain kept them clustered neatly together, its pitter-pattering on the leaves soothing her worries and leaving her calm and clear-headed.
Movement in her periphery caused Brynja to raise her head. It seemed Nymeria had come to the same conclusion, and the russet mare couldn't help but return the gray's slight smile with one of her own. The other mare's movement sparked hers in turn, and she meandered from the shade of the trees to the clearing, her head high and her steps purposeful. She approached Nymeria with perked ears and bright eyes, stopping near her and reaching out her nose to exchange breaths. Brynja stood tall, but her posture was one of relaxed confidence, and she rested a hind hoof on its tip, whickering to the others nestled in the trees to bring them forth. She wasn't looking to start any quarrels; she wanted what was best for the herd as a whole, be it her leadership or another's, but she didn't know any of the mares personally, and she wouldn't let someone take the position who she felt was unfit for it.
Hopefully, they could come to an agreement without any physical confrontation. If Brynja's assumptions were correct, most of the others were expecting foals come winter. Fighting whilst carrying a child was decidedly not in anyone's best interests.
