Olaf was glad of the drop in temperature that autumn brought, though he barely felt due to the rising heat in his blood. The mares were coming into season and in response, Olaf spent his days forcing them into a close group, strutting around them and chasing off any rogue stallions who came too close. There were times when Olaf could just about tolerate another stallion in his home; when his mares were in heat was not one of those times.

Olaf made a tight circle around the mares, his tail flagged proudly behind him and his posture wide and tall to show off his muscles and how devilishly handsome he was. When he halted, satisfied they were tight enough together, his lips peeled back to try and detect signs of any receptive females. Given the amount of positive attention they gave him, he was not hopeful. An unknown feminine scent caught his attention from the barren side of the territory that led to the desert and he wasted little time in seeking out the source.

His stride quickly ate up the ground that separated them, though due to his size and the shifting sand, it was probably not the most graceful gait. Caramel eyes spotted the chestnut mare atop one of the dunes, looking off into the sandy distance. If she kept going the way she was facing, she would only find more sand and most probably death before she hit water.

Sand slid away beneath his weight and was thrown up in clumps as he cantered towards the mare. He slowed as he neared her, neighing loudly, and impressively, as he approached. He extended his muzzle briefly, exchanging breaths before his ears flicked back and he began to round on her, angling himself in such a way to drive her back to the oasis. With whinny, he snaked his head out to nip at her hip, hopefully sending her running toward the herd. They could talk when she was safely with the others.