Jörmungandr had been so engrossed in the birthing process and subsequent worry about whether her foal was about to die or not, she had not noticed Lyden’s presence. She did not hear his nicker either and is instead locked in a trace like state, holding her son’s gaze. It comes as a shock then, when she feels a sudden pressure on her shoulder that she is not remotely expecting.

Her ears flick back instantly and she darts forward with a surprised squeal, twisting round to face her possible attacker with her son safely beneath her legs. From here she could push the intruder forwards and away from the boy. She is almost ready to charge forwards when her blue eyes focus on Lyden’s familiar form. Bewilderment and embarrassment flicker across her features, ”Oh” she grapples for her words which temporarily seem to have escaped her tongue, ”Sorry, I did not realise it was you”.

A sudden brush against her legs causes her to shift sideways, her head dropping to the child below that seems to have finally found his energy. A small smile finds her lips and she casts a quick glance to Lyden as the boy struggles to rise to his feet, “I was worried he would not make it” she admits. Absently, she turns her attention back to the colt, licking the dampness from his pale coat. Guilt hangs heavy in her chest as she realises she should have done this before instead of abandoning him. The boy seems unphased though and leans into her cleaning efforts which in turn helps him to finally stand, albeit unsteadily.