Jörmungandr knew nothing about what had gone on in the dunes. The hierarchy was a mystery to her, but when the herd first rocked up into her forest, none had challenged her when she placed herself at the head of the herd. The buckskin did find it odd that Olaf does not have a mare that would at least push back a little though - she is so used to the dominance that the gamla tík had exuded without challenge. The old bitch mare had been one in a million, she supposes, but it is still a strange thing to see Olaf's herd without a clear leader.

The buckskin had learned a lot from the old mare. Perhaps that was why she, at such a young age, had taken the lead in the forest so easily when Lyden had first brought her back. She earned the position in his eyes and then in most of the mares eyes and was not afraid to fight for her herd (even for members she was dubious about).

As the herd stands around eating and interacting, Jörmungandr grooms her yearling daughter while her young son watches the other foals silently. Their quiet family time is promptly interrupted by a challenging call. The buckskin’s ears flick back and then lean forward as she leaves her children’s sides with a sharp snort.

She does not hesitate or dilly dally in approaching the bay roan mare. She had seen her around the forest since the herd’s arrival and, surprising, it is with some satisfaction that she meets the older mare’s challenge. Blue eyes dance over the mare’s form as she approaches with ears flicked back, neck arched and chin tucked to her chest. When she reaches the mare, she extends her muzzle to exchange breaths and size up her opponent.