The sky was grey, as was the air. A wall of misty white snowflakes drifted and swirled down from the heavens, obscuring the view of everything more than a couple of feet away. The ground was covered with a thick layer of snow; soft and fluffy on top but crunchy below the surface. Olaf didn’t much care for the snow and huffed grumpily as he watched his warm breath mingle with the grey air. His thick legs trudged through the powdery barrier, the lower ground crackling beneath his wide hooves. As far as he was concerned, spring couldn’t come fast enough.

Due the hungry wolves prowling amongst the trees, Olaf had pushed the herd closer to the border of what used to be the thicket. There was more shelter there and thus more grass hiding closer to the surface. Keeping to the fringes of the forest had come at a price, however. Olaf had not been able to patrol closer to the shore without leaving his mares and foals for longer than he felt safe. He did not assume anyone would be foolish enough to try and settle while the weather was still so rough. It appeared Olaf was wrong.

As he skirted along the edge of the higher drifts, beginning his arc back towards the herd, an unfamiliar scent caught his attention. Stopping dead in his tracks, his ears swivelled curiously, nostrils flaring. Another stallion was here.