Sigrún had welcomed the summer like an old and greatly missed friend. She was thankful to be in a mild place, similar to her homeland, that was full of lush vegetation rather than scortched, dry grasses. Okay, so winter provided less succulent meals but she appreciated the familiarity all the same.

She spent most of her days in a spot she had accidentally stumbled upon, quite literally. On a day spent exploring her home she had lost her footing on loose rocks on the cliff edge. Rather that tumbling to her death, she'd skidded down the steep incline to the large ledge below. It reached backwards into the rock face providing not only a cave - like shelter but a sheltered open area where juicy grasses and flowers grew uninhibited. Sigrún was a slave to a tasty meal.

Her nights were spent within the cave or grazing at its mouth. Her days were spent top - side, grazing and frolicking in the gentle warmth of the sun. She never saw much of the herd but she could tell by scent and general noise that they were never far away. Some days she considered venturing into the thick of things but she could never quite be bothered, not without a prompt anyway.

After spending most of the morning galloping and bucking across the wide open expanse of the Inlet, she had settled back down on her ledge for the afternoon to snooze and graze on the sweet white flowers that trailed the shade. Laying down, she rested her head over the edge of the cliff to watch the channel that led into her home. She often thought she might spot Dögun swimming in or out but it had been a long time since she last caught a even glimpse of him. She wondered if he was even aware that she still frequented the area or if he still considered her a part of his herd. She had not made herself very available and she was unsure if he'd ever tried to seek her out.

Letting her mind drift, a call breaks her thoughts and she turns her head to stare up the incline that led up to the main territory. Huffing, she pushed up onto her knees and forced herself up. She supposed now would be as good a time as any to find out how the herd was fairing and how she fitted into it, if at all. Loose, muddy rocks clattered down the cliff face as she dragged herself up the steep ledge and onto more even ground. She picked up a brisk trot though despite not being far away, it appeared she was one of the last to arrive. She recognised two of the mares from their last meeting but the others were unfamiliar except by scent.

She had filled out since the last meeting. Her coat was now free of its winter fuzz and bore a healthy shine. Her barrel bordered on the thick side of fat but that was how she liked it and she'd spent numerous months building it with great joy. She would survive the coming winter well, perhaps with enough reserves to sustain a new life if she so chose. Her ledge would be unworkable then but the ice of winter would ensure that anyway.

Her eyes moved silently over Dögun and each of the mares as she drew up to the little gathering. It is only then that she noticed the colt at the chestnut mare's side. It did not look the picture of health but Sigrún didn't care to enquire about the hows or whys. She halted with a snort but said nothing. Everyone was already beginning to interact and she had little interest in interupting.