As night fall and Joukahainen prances energetically around the buckskin mare’s tired body, Jörmungandr curses her son for the umpteenth time. He had been asleep most of the day and now, when she and everyone else were trying to sleep, he was wide awake. Typical. Although he is tiny, he makes a remarkable amount of noise so she decides to move off from the herd to give them a little more peace.

With a snort she drives the pale boy down the forest path towards the beach. She figures if he insists on being a nuisance, he can do so out of earshot. She can also point out the constellations of the gods in the night sky where there were no trees to obscure their view. Giving the boy a sidelong glance, she wonders if that will hold his attention for long or if he’ll listen at all. He is exactly like her brother Magnus was at this age. Now she knows how his mother felt.

The boy darts forwards, kicking up his heels and a ton of dirt in wake. Gandy shakes her head and walks after him, ears alert to the slightest movements and always wary for the scent of predators.
All seems well until they are almost out of the treeline that leads to the shore. Here, the metallic smell of blood assaults her nostrils. She grows uneasy, shifting uncomfortably and ready to push Joukahainen back towards the herd. Instead of allowing this, the boy springs forwards towards a pale lump on the shore. “Jouka stop” she scolds through gritted teeth.

She reaches out and his stubby tail just evades her grasp as he continues to charge towards whatever horse lay upon the sand. She curses and takes off after him, throwing herself between the stricken body and her son. The boy crashes into her hip with a squeal and collapses in a heap of wriggling, lanky limbs. Quickly she pushes him up, ears pinned back, “Stay there” she growls in a low tone before swinging round to confront the pale mare lying behind her. She snorts, eyeing the wound on the mare’s leg, “Who are you and why are you attracting predators to my forest?”