For a little while there is silence, and she closes her eyes - not to sleep but just to relax in peace filled quiet. They remain closed even when Lyden speaks, though her ears lean towards the sound of his voice and a gentle smile finds her lips. She makes no effort to speak until he is finished commenting on her effort with the mares, quietly taking it all in and considering it all carefully

"A herd is a family and there can be no strangers in family." She quotes softly, her voice slightly muffled against the warm skin below his mane. It was a piece of wisdom that had been handed down to her from the gamla tík. As frustrating as the old woman was, she gave sound advice. A divided herd would quickly run to ruin but a strong, united one could conquer the world. It was no effort really as it came naturally to her. She could never quite understand loners.

He continues, commenting on her ability as a leader and a mother (perceived future ability anyway). She'd heard the same from Azazel in regards to what kind of mother she'll make. The buckskin was unsure, but hearing it from two different sources gave her both comfort and confidence about her future role as a mother and perhaps as a matriarch of the herd too. She could almost hear the gamla tík's voice in ear, telling her she was too young for such responsibilities and that she had far too much still to learn before she would be. She huffed softly into Lyden's pale mane, everyone had to learn sometime.

She considers his words while a few moments of easy silence pass. While his words meant more to her than he could possibly realise, she doesn't quite know how to vocalise it. "I am glad it was you who found me in the meadow." She admits finally, wondering how her life might have differed if she had met and gone with someone else "and not just because of the forest." she adds with a touch of humour filtering in. "I think the Gods truly have great plans for us." While her life may not have started and progressed in the way her parents had planned, the Gods had been good to her. She is thankful.

"My granddam led the forest in her prime, you know" she informs him after a long moment. She wonders how things might have turned out if her grandmother had not been killed. It is a bittersweet thought as she would love to have met the striped warrior but highly doubted her own birth would have happened if she had survived. Maybe Olaf would have met her mother regardless, under different circumstances and Jörmungandr's childhood might have differed entirely. It's a strange thought and too complex to put anymore into.

She pulls her head up slightly, untangling herself from his mane so that she could lip at it absently, her mind drifting. "I wonder if my grandparents stood once, as we stand now, in this very spot". A sadness touched her heart yet did not travel to her voice. Ársæl was long dead and all traces of Kisei's presence in the forest were gone. Both of them were distant memories in the history of the forest which moved on as if they never existed. Jörmungandr wished to be remembered forever.