She nods quietly as the black mare speaks, reaffirming her earlier statement. Azazel looks away and Jörmungandr watches her with a steady gaze, wonders what thoughts were running through her mind. She does not need to wait long to find out however as she begins to speak once more. She supposes the mare is right as it’s often cited that the bond forms as soon as you lay eyes on your child. It’s funny, she’d never pegged Azazel as being so wise. That wasn’t a slight against the mare, she just didn’t expect someone so young to know so much. “You seem sure” she realises and looks a little closer at her companion. She couldn’t be much older or younger than Jörmungandr herself. “Do you speak from experience?” It hasn’t really occurred to the buckskin that that was a possibly but many mares their age had already had one or two foals. It is not impossibility.

The gamla tík never told her much about pregnancy, birth and raising a foal. She had mentioned the basics, but never really gone into much depth. Jörmungandr could kick herself for not having asked these all important questions while she still had the chance. The words Azazel spoke now were more comforting than anything the old nag had ever had to say. Despite missing Olaf, for the umpteenth time since she’d left, Jörmungandr was more than grateful to be here. She can see exactly what Olaf saw in the forest and so much more.

The buckskin doesn’t expect he companion‘s next move yet chuckles softly when the girl puts her forehead to Jörmungandr’s belly. There were days when she wish she could get that close to the foal to really tell it to quieten down. She laughs at the warning given to her foal and finds herself being affectionately sorry for her unborn child. With a sarcastic, Nordic mother and a grumpy, English father she has to wonder how it will turn out.

The black mare’s gaze returns to her and she chuckles, her mood thoroughly uplifted; it had been a good idea to seek out Azazel’s presence. ”Let us hope so”. she laughs and reaches round to nip lightly at her swollen barrel, ”You listen to Azazel or I will not allow you to play with the other foals”. Threat delivered, she swings her head back to face her companion, ”Hopefully that will drive the point home.”. If the foal understood and acknowledged them, it made no move to make that known.