With the pony king and his second suitably chased away from the two mares, Olaf promptly pivoted and began to herd the pair toward the ocean. He did not plan to use force to drive them, and should they go willingly, he would more or less lead them to the dunes from behind. If they tried to resist, however, he would use only the threat of his teeth or hooves – a snap of his jaws or a sly kick at the air directly beside them. It would only be if they truly fought him that he would nip at their flesh, but he was a large stallion whose posture remained intimidating enough that he expected them to go with only mild resistance.

He drives them into the ocean, swimming through the chilly currents of Tinuvel and out into the warmer ones that marked their arrival on Salem. Bloodmane was with the herd, so Olaf did not continue his relentless herding when they touched dry land. Instead, he eased off as they moved up the beach to the river side. ”Easy” he half-soothed in his low, Nordic accent, indicating for them to stop ”We will rest here a moment before joining the rest of the herd. Have a drink, catch your breaths” he suggested. His caramels eyes moved over the pair who were really quite different apart from the roan ticking over their bodies. "I am Olaf. What are your names?" there had been no time to find out.