The mare stood alone grazing peacefully among the bits of root she had pulled from the base of a particular tree; the mineral of the earth and dry hard plant had smelt so delectable, the Moonstrike knew she had to have some.

But now she regretted that decision.

The claw-like branches grabbed and clawed at her shaggy and heavier coat, making a mess of herself. Not that she cared too much about the way she looked – she just wasn't overly fond of forming bald spots in her mane. She knew in this terrain that more hair meant warmer nights when huddled with Magnus and the others.

Her head jerked back abruptly as a nearby whinny startled her, and she bonked her head on a nearby branch, tangling herself some more. Hot breath shot out of her nose and she ungracefully tore herself from her earthy binds an investigates. Today was a good day for her vision, as she could make out distant shadows. Her ears point forward and she 'looks' at the strange stallion. She lifts her head, nose catching his scent. It smelt heavy of sea water and distantly of something...no, someone. But who did she know here beyond her savior?

It just didn't add up. Then it dawned on the silver and black mare.

Warsong.

Her features harden and she marches out boldly meeting the stranger, damn near head on! Everything about Moonstrike was familiar in a surreal sort of way. She moved like the bitchmare, looked like her, even had a similar smell. “ You. “ the mare boldly demands. For one who had been content and casual moments before, the authority seemed..ill-placed (though to Olaf, it was far easily anticipated, knowing her dam) “ What do you want here? “