The painted stallion was not bothered by her words and merely told her what she probably already knew. Whatever deal had been made with Kasabian had not been upheld before he disappeared. She would be traded to the next willing band stallion in return for whatever it was the lagoon wanted. Sigrún didn't mind, not really. As long as she had ample food, shelter and protection, she would not kick up a fuss. Moving around, between territories and herds, was just a part equine life and she would not waste trying to change that. Did she want to return to the inlet with Dögun? Yes, but would she protest to being placed elsewhere? Probably not. What she wanted and what was were two entirely different thing that she had accepted as soon as her hooves touched the shore of the ridge. 

Being in the lagoon - a territory filled with bachelors, barely mature males and the rejects of society - was not wise or wanted during the fall. Alone with her daughter in the ridge, with no stallions around and little changes between the seasons, she had almost what season it was. The realisation came flooding back when she saw the cold gaze of the painted brute change to something entirely more chilling. The roan mare stepped backward, swinging her rump away from his advance. Tired from the journey and even taking the stallion's bad leg into account, she had little chance of getting far if she ran. Instead, she threw a few kicks and bites in his direction as she kept trying to turn from him. Perhaps if she could land a few hits, he would back off and give up. 

Ultimately her efforts were in vain and the beast had his way. Sigrún narrowed her eyes as he moved away from her, snorting angrily. At first, she thought about attacking him outright but then, she had a better idea. With a snap of her tail, she turned and trotted away from him with determination. Just because he had been the first to try and plant his seed within her, did not mean it would be his that grew.