When the scent of a coyote had caught Olaf’s attention, he had left Warsong at the side of the river. While the canine was unlikely to cause any trouble in the absence of foals in the territory, he would not abide a predator of any kind near his herd. If he let it remain, it would show no fear come spring putting potential future foals in danger. With that in mind, he chased it well away from Warsong, the only mare that made up the herd thus far. Satisfied that it was far enough away and wouldn’t come closer any time soon, he began the brisk journey back toward the river.

Somewhat as expected, when he reached the river looking for the familiar spotted hide of Warsong, she was no longer where he had left her. That was something he was getting used to. She did as she pleased and for the most part he was happy to let her as long as she didn’t stray too far. He was a traditional stallion; as long as the herd stayed together, he let the mares do as they wished.

Following Warsong’s trail, he was surprised to spot two familiar figures as he ascended the crest of one of the dunes. Since mentioning his newly acquired territory to Nami, he had expected her to show up eventually but was caught off guard by it all the same. He wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t rounded her up in the same fashion as he did most of the homeless mare he had encountered. Childbearing mares might be important with the herd, but older mares important. They had years of life experience and knowledge that was invaluable to every herd.

Her ears swivelled forwards as he navigated down the side of the dune, straining to hear what the small spotted mare was saying the large grey one.