Warsong was temperamental. Olaf had known that from the moment he had found her in the meadow and driven away any male who tried to get near her. He had been too late then but never again. She had been difficult all those years ago and now, with experience under her belt, she was more so. She blew hot and cold, sometimes seeking him out to work on the matts and tangles of their coats and other times willing him away with a flash of her teeth or kick of her hoof. Olaf remained a calm and stoic presence throughout her apparent mood swings. Of course, it could be argued that much of it was his own fault.

The drop in temperature signified the rapidly impending autumn and with it, all the hormones that were associated with it. Both of them were feeling it and Olaf was beginning to become more interested in the speckled mare while she became more moody and abrasive. The heat of the desert island only intensified the frustration.

The splashing of Warsong’s legs through the water of the oasis caused his ears to swivel back and his head to follow suit. Caramel eyes watched silently as the mare dropped down to enjoy the water. Olaf snorted and moved over to her, wading closer only to stop a few feet away and stand guard.