Finally, winter is reaching its end, although it had never been excessively bad in the forest anyway. There had been a light covering of snow over most of the land but grass was never far out of reach. The buckskin mare hadn’t minded the cold, it seemed to ease her discomfort some. The snow was easy to traverse but now that it gave way to muddy puddles, she is less than thrilled. With each step, her hooves squelch into the wet ground and left with a pop of suction. She is sure if she stayed in some areas – near the bank of the stream for example – she’d probably end up sinking to knee height in the water logged soil. At present, that isn’t such a bad thought – perhaps just a little deeper though.

After resting for a while, she’d dragged herself up from the damp ground and moved away from the herd to drink. She now paces at the edge of the stream where the soil is rocky enough to remain solid. The foal is an active one, moving and rolling and kicking with great frequency. Each movement brings a sharp or dull pain to her abdomen and she’s left wondering if this is normal – if every mare goes through the same ordeal. If this is normal, she feels bad for all the mare’s in Olaf’s herd she had been exasperated with. She had never thought pregnancy to be easy, but she had also never imagined it to be so difficult. A shame none of the mares present in Lyden’s herd were in foal as well so that she might compare notes – Skylar would have been a great source of information being pregnant now and at least once before.

Jömungandr halts her pacing with a snort and paws the ground in irritation. This pregnancy needed to be over and Lyden’s mares needed to learn a thing or two about what it meant to actually been in a herd. Had she not given in to primal lust this summer which left her incapacitated by pregnancy, she probably would have tracked down each of the mares. She’d either have brought them back in a flurry of bites and kicks or forcibly ejected them and risked Lyden’s wrath as a result – though she is unsure of how terrible it can be having only seen him in more pleasant moods. She wonders what he may do if she truly irritated him, beyond the normal exasperation of her being ‘difficult'.

She sighed heavily, dropping her head to bite at a blade of grass which quickly turned her stomach. Perfect, not even food could distract her from her irritation. Flicking her tail across her haunches in annoyance she plods miserably back to where the herd stood. She spied Lyden up ahead though as he had his back to her, she can’t be sure if he was sleeping or guarding. It doesn’t matter. Considerate enough so as not to completely startle him, she gave a light snort before resting her head on his strong back, her muzzle burrowed into the base of his mane. She sucked in his scent, flicking an ear in his direction though she didn’t mind if he said nothing; his company is comforting enough. Perhaps here she can find some peace.