It had been still all morning, not even the hint of breeze to brush past her previously wind-matted locks. The sun shone overhead, warm but not hot. It should have been pleasant but she knew from experience what was soon to come. This was the calm before the storm. The air pressure all around her was low and she paced uneasily from above her normal perch. She would not venture onto the ledge when a storm was due, if it washed away the links between the rocky shelf and the top of the cliff, she would be stuck – forced to die of starvation or to leap to a bloody and watery death.

Neither option appealed to her.

She moved towards the heart of the inlet, well away from the cliffs and the shore. In the distance, high on the other side of the mountain, she could hear the wolves howl. They were as unsettled as she was, perhaps more so. What was coming would keep their noses well out of the herds’ business, a small mercy.

She thought she had more time.

As she made a beeline for the sheltered rock face at the lower fringes of the mountain, an almighty gust of wind kicked up around her. It threw her off her path. Its sudden force drove her to fumble a few steps to the right. She snorted and braced herself against it as the gust turned into a relentless gale. She pushed her head down and squared her shoulders, fighting against the force which tried to drive her back towards the shore. Always stubborn, she would not let it win.

Somewhere in the midst of this battle of wills between equine and mother nature, the sky let loose. It was not the steady lash of rain or even a heavy torrent. This was like sheets of water falling to the earth as if someone was decanting a giant vat of water from above. Sigrún gritted her teeth and pressed on paying the water no mind as it rapidly soaked her to the bone.

Behind the wall of rain, she could barely see the path in front of her but she knew where she was going. She had walked every inch of the territory many times, always unintentionally slipping past the notice of the rest of the herd. They would most definitely not be seeing her now, not unless they near walked right into her.

Finally she located the shelter of a shallow bite out of the mountain face, its rocky ceiling protecting her from the most of the rain and force of the wind. She leaned against the damp, moss covered wall and stared out into the storm. She would be stuck her all night but there were worse places she could be.