Jökulrós was not like her mother, or any of her family really. Hers lineage was one of filled with fighters and bolshy, dominant matriarchs; one of wanderers and conquerors. Jökulrós was not a wanderer, though that did not mean she was not adventurous - not at all but she had always been content with the small things in life. She could spend days investigating the patterns on the backs of butterflies or observing the ebb and flow of the tide. There was beauty in everything so long as you took the time to truly look at it. Jökulrós was quiet and calm; a voice of reason amongst the hot tempers of her family. She was the one who stood back and observed the scuffles and the tense words and remained untainted by anger or hate. She did not throw herself into the thick of things, but instead let others take the lead. Jökulrós was not shy though, she could even be accused of being to forward, too unintentionally disregarding of others personal space.

As she meandered through her home, shadows dancing off her tri-coloured coat, a familiar scent graced the jutting branches of the lower trees - a memory almost as old as she was. She followed the ghost of a childhood almost forgotten until she came upon the gap in the trees that led to the sea. The only thing that remained of the spotted memory was that lingering scent and hoof prints in the damp sand.

Unless…

There was a figure was nestled amongst the trees on the shore. The canopy of green leaves cast him into a semi-darkness yet she could see enough to frown at the unfamiliar planes of his profile and the jagged white patches that cut through the brown. He was not the child she had met when she had still been all spindly legs and a stumpy tail, nor was he the man that child would have become. He was a stranger, a tiny, lonely figure against the great expanse of the ocean the unfolded before them.

She drifted to his den like a moth to the flame. Her gaze followed his as she approached but she saw nothing in the braches other than their beauty. "I saw a bird there once." She recalled, settling in beside him like an old friend, chin tipped up to survey the branches "At first glance, its feathers were as black as darkness itself but when you looked closer they shone in every colour you could ever dream of.” A soft smile graced her lips as she remembered. ”When he sang, it was a tale of kings and queens, of love and war and of fire and ice. I’d never heard a song so complex yet so simple at the same time, nor yet one as beautiful.”

For a moment she fell silent, lost in the memory of that wondrous song. ”I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be that bird. To soar above it all and just…take flight when you’re having trouble seeing the bigger picture. To be able to go wherever you want on a whim without having to worry how you’ll get back. To sing your heart out without the fear of disturbing someone." She sighed softly, a faraway look in her pale blue eyes. "I think it would be glorious to be that bird."

”Do you think you’d like to be a bird? she asked, suddenly seeming to remember that she was actually speaking to a live equine and not just the trees. Tipping her head back down from looking at the branches, she looked at him sidelong for a moment before noticing the angry welt on his neck. ”Oh” she exclaimed and reached out instinctively, touching her muzzle to the skin adjacent to swelling, "Does it hurt?"