In the time between her arrival and the present, Sigrún had not done much. In fact, she’d found herself a nice, shaded spot not far from the burn and set up camp there. With ample food and water and no signs of predators, she didn’t find much reason to move other than to stretch her legs. A couple of mares passed by in the distance but she made no effort to flag them down. The journey to the islands had been tough on her body and she delighted in the opportunity to be lazy and rebuild her strength (and her fat stores). While her thick, winter coat gave the impression of a well fed mare, she was actually well under her optimal weight. Spring, and a stable herd, would soon take care of that.

She was grazing quietly when the stallion’s call reaches her ears; perhaps he wanted the herd to stick closer together or just for them all to become familiar with one another. She raised her head slowly, huffing out a lazy breath and beginning the slow meander in the direction from which she heard the call. She’d managed around two steps when a familiar howl broke her thoughts to answer the stallion’s call; wolves. The sound originated in the mountains and echoed down to the whole territory below. Where she stood, frozen by the sound as she tried to pinpoint the exact location, she determined she was about as far from them possible within the Inlet’s borders. Dögun and any of his mares who might have joined him were up ahead and closer to the predators. T

For a few brief moments she considered her options. She could stay where she was, furthest away yet alone or she could move to her herd for safety in numbers. Had she known any of them except the dun stallion she would have undoubtedly made the choice faster but would have made the same one regardless. She would answer his call, it’s not like the wolves were close enough to attack yet and she knew a herd of caribou should still stand between them.

She picked up a brisk trot, her earlier laziness having been replaced by a sense of urgency prompted by Dögun’s second call. She appears between the pines, ochre eyes falling on the small herd that had gathered. Dögun obviously had a type she noted, as every one of his mares, including herself, sported a roan coat. She pulled up in front of them with a sharp snort but said nothing. She knew Dögun was bound to have something to say.