As the tricolour filly pranced away after a butterfly, Jörmungandr lazily loped after her, her head still dipped to take chunks out of the grass as she went. The winter had been relatively mind but she had lost some weight in the final stages of pregnancy and the first few weeks of nursing so was eager to regain it for the sake of protecting the herd. While she knew Lyden was capable of doing so on his own, she preferred to be on the top of her game in case he was on the crossing on business.

A commotion of splashes drew her attention and her herd shot up, ears swivelling and nostrils flaring vigilantly. She quickened her stride, only to slow again when the familiar sound of Lyden and Azazel’s voices drifted through the trees. She had barely seen her friend in months, just the odd glimpse of her black hide passing through the trees.

Appearing through the trees, she nickered a greeting to the pair, blue eyes glancing at the two foals. A smile formed on her lips as she realised that the filly must be Azazel’s. She deserved to be a mother again and the buckskin mare was happy for her. Turning her attention back to Lyden and Azazel, she tipped her head towards the Jokulros, ”I hope she is not being too much of a pain.” she said with an amused smile.