Jörmungandr could not care less about the stranger's pain or injuries. What she does care about is that the stranger is lying on her beach, bleeding, and attracting predators to her herd. An injured member of the herd would be cared for but an injured mare endangering them would be dealt with in whatever manner was the least dangerous. Jörmungandr wonders how the mare got here and how she could have gotten herself in such a state. While the tide can be a vicious mistress, it should not have been as hard to navigate as the mare’s injuries suggest. Either the mare cannot swim or she is running from something. That something better not be a threat to the forest.

She is aware of Lyden in the background but her attention is held by the perlino in the sand. Before the pale stallion has chance to say or do anything, the pair exchange words. Jörmungandr meets the mares sarcasm will a stony gaze. Lyden steps in before she can continue her line of questioning or the mare can say anything else. His bump to her buckskin shoulder and words do little to quell her annoyance.

She huffs an irritated breath, "Maybe you should have taught her to swim without slicing herself open and leaving a blood trail for all the wolves and cougars of the forest to follow". She isn't sure either were paying attention to her words as they reunited and she looked out over the beach. A passing fox, attracted by the blood, lifts its nose and peers closer to see if there was a free meal to scavenge. She locks eyes with it. It seems apprehensive of the group of larger creatures.

Her ears twitch at the sudden sound of her son’s voice. "Mama, it smells." the boy whines, wrinkling his nose as he peers around her rump at the stricken mare. The smell of blood is not pleasant to him. Distracted, she stamps her hoof into the sand with a snort. Joukahainen shrunk back and shut up. The fox takes off into the undergrowth with only a rustle of leaves to mark his passage.

Lyden's words draw her attention back from where the fox disappeared and she snorts at his request. If the mare couldn't hold her own weight, she'd go straight down and their presence on either side would be useless. What did he expect her to do? Grab her by the nape and drag her up if she fell? Fortunately, the mare seems able to rise and hobble a few steps; a promising sign. It takes all her strength not to roll her eyes at the mare’s declaration to Lyden.

Jörmungandr moves easily into action, indicating a relatively deep rock pool a few strides ahead. The tide had not reached it yet so it would still be lukewarm from the evening sun. The salt would also cleanse the wound. "Wash the worst of the blood and sand from your wound there unless you want it to get infected." she informs the mare, the hint of her Nordic accent shining through. She casts her gaze up to the treeline. "We will move into a small clearing just past the trees. It is flat and not far." There is little chance of getting her any further and with the worst wound rinsed they should be relatively safe from the predators. "You will rest there and we will clean your wounds" It is not a suggestion or negotiable.

She considers sending Lyden away to bring the herd closer for safety but does not think he will leave the pale woman's side. She'd just have to hope no predators caught scent of the blood and caught the herd unaware. Luckily, the tide would wash the evidence away soon. Glancing briefly at her son, she wonders how a peaceful stroll to see the stars turned into this.