The cold of Winter had begun to melt away, bringing with it a surge of new life. Along the outskirts of the Forest, wildflowers bloomed, their small green shoots pulling up through the rich soil and reaching tentatively towards the warming sun. Soft, tender grass grew in patches, and the branches on the trees were speckled with tiny green buds. Along with soft rays of sun, birdsong once again began to filter through their secretive domain, and she heard the rustles of smaller animals in the undergrowth. Soon, she knew, the sounds of their young would fill the air around them.

Of course, the herd was always a bit ahead of the game. And no sooner had the snow disappeared into the soil had the swollen mares of the Forest disappeared into the brush, reappearing hours later with foals clinging to their sides. Brynja was acutely aware of everyone’s presence, though they mostly seemed unaware of hers, and she noticed whenever one of them left the general area they clustered in, quietly worrying until they returned. Even the pale mare that hung along the edges wasn’t above Brynja’s careful scrutiny. She worried when she trailed off on her own, pausing to glance behind at her retreating figure, but it was the time of year for long, solitary ventures into the trees. She had made that journey herself not so long ago.

She was dozing in the warmth of the sun, her chestnut body made vivid by the golden rays illuminating it. A rustling woke her from her light slumber, and she lifted her head, brown eyes quickly blinking away the fatigue. Some yards ahead, the pale mare stood, and it was as Brynja expected: A cream-colored foal stood by her side. Nearby, a blanketed yearling - one of Nymeria’s older fillies - approached the duo. And directly in front of her, crashing through the underbrush like a runaway train, was her own child, a determined glint in her young eyes.

Ygritte cut through the leaves and branches recklessly, her buttery hide mottled with dirt. She had seen a few of the other horses, but Brynja had yet to let her get close to them. While her dam was asleep, she’d seized her chance, and now that she was out of striking range she was going to get to those other horses and see what all the fuss was about. When she broke into their presence, however, the filly paused, drawing herself up short. She knew she’d wanted to be amongst them, but once she was actually there, she didn’t know what exactly to do. Her reddish tail swished against her hindquarters, and she stared at the three of them in turn, her gaze lingering on the other foal. Her ears twitched back at Brynja’s approach.

Her dam stayed a few yards away, ready to intervene if necessary. “Ygritte,” she called, a soft bid for temperance. Her child may have been ready to meet the world head-on, but others were not as adventurous. The sooner she learned that, the better.