Warm breezes caress the Inlet, chasing away the snow but some still remained in the deepest, shadiest recesses of the pine trees. The once babbling brook, now muddy and threatening to overflow its banks, each day it rushed down from the mountains peaks, swelling with more runoff. Dögun navigates the path that runs parallel with the brook, carefully; insuring that he would not lose his footing and tumble into the roaring waters. Each step brings him closer to his herd, it was slowly growing in number...from his first K1A1, to Freya, and the latest arrival, Sigrún. Emerging from the pine forest, it opens up into the meadow...where his russet eyes fall on not a soul. Flicking fuzzy ears, he halts midstride, listening for any sound of the mares; knowing that they couldn't be far.

The only sound that reached his awaiting ears was the soft whisper of the breeze, concern washes across his face for a brief moment. Picking up the ambling tölt, he swiftly moves across the clearing halting next to the water's edge. Opening his maw, he lets out a call to his mares, his voice reverberating off of the dark pines... Perching his fuzzy head higher on his neck, he listens for the answer of any of his mares. Ears wait impatiently for their nickers...but all he received was the howl of a wolf pack on the border of the inlet. Their hunger driving them from the mountains peaks...knowing that there would be a meal lower on Tinuvel. He would not allow a single wolf to make a meal out of one his herd, he had brought them here for safety.

Pinning his ears...he calls louder this time, more urgent. Launching into a gallop he heads towards the clearings edge, his hooves leaping through the tall yellowed grasses, slowing to a trot at the edge, his russet eyes scan around him... His pounding heart loud in his own ears, he knew that his mares would appear soon... So he waited, ready to gather them up, knowing the wolves could easily head into the Inlet.