Morrigan

Though she often craved the silence of solitude, Morrigan did not dare to stray far from the herd. With no vision remaining in her right eye, she was forced to rely on the other mares' senses for the sake of her own survival. To follow where she might once have led, or forged her own path. As a result, she had become more attuned to the moods of the women who shared her home, and could read the restiveness that they passed back and forth like a figurative baton. Soon the unease had infected Morrigan as well, and she drove her daughter closer to the dominant bay mare, a shudder traveling down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. The silver black could sense the storm, as if the oppressive clouds overhead were sinking slowly down to engulf Tinuvel.

A grey mare broke ahead of the pack, headed toward the cliffs and their scattering of caves. Morrigan's ears twitched back in confusion; had there been a change in the mares' pecking order that she was unaware of? Instinct urged her to follow the pale creature at the head of the peck, but she fell into stride behind the bay mare's offspring instead, urging Nemain ahead of her with a gentle nudge of her muzzle. Fly would break an easy path for her daughter to follow. Even the young could not afford exhaustion; any who slowed their pace would be caught in the storm. Exposed to the worst of the wind and snow, a straggler would only survive for as long as their legs could keep moving.

In a battle between the fury of the elements and the frailty of flesh, flesh invariably lost.

The bay woman held her steady pace until she'd caught up with the grey mare, and only there did she slow for the briefest of heartbeats - long enough to assert her authority with the subtle language of her body. Morrigan made sure that CUA was in front of her before she continued forward; she had no desire to be caught in the middle of a confrontation, should the grey decide to take advantage of Fly's single-minded focus and challenge her more directly. While once she might have coveted the bay mare's position, there were two - soon to be three, if her thickening belly was more than just the fat accumulated to help her survive the harsh Tinuvel winter - things that made it seem unimportant.

Magnus, Nemain. And, if her mother's instinct was as correct in guessing this foal's gender as it had been the last four, Nyneve.

Fly paused at the entrance to the largest cave, senses straining for any sign of predators. After a tense moment, she went inside, and the silver black started forward warily. Morrigan imitated the bay mare in pausing at the entrance to the cave, but her own poor eyesight could not penetrate the shadows, and her ears caught only the erratic rhythm of bodies shifting in the snow behind her. Trusting in the capabilities of the auburn alpha, the dark woman followed Fly into the cave, her heavy body tense and prepared to flee at the slightest sign of danger.