Days passed and so did the seasons. Vibrant greens turned to shades red and gold, fading toward brown as some of the trees began to shed their leaves for another year. The sky has begun to dull with increased rainfall and the dark began to creep in sooner and sooner. Unlike the weather and the seasons, however, nothing had changed for the herd that lived within Luthien’s forest. The mares and foals were as reclusive as they had been for the past few seasons and Olaf had yet to go out of his way to do anything about it. Perhaps he was becoming as used to it as the rest of them – well, all but his daughter anyway.

Jormungandr was feeling more and more on edge as the days and months passed. She knew that sooner or later, the peace and quiet would end and she feared it would be in the harshest and most violent way possible. The predators had been as quiet as the herd but that could not last. The herd had become scattered and lax and were fast becoming the perfect target. Both she and her sire wondered if that had been what happened to Olaf’s young second, though neither voiced their concerns, especially with the lack of evidence on way or the other.

As a light drizzle of rain fell from the sky, the pair grazed, their ears straining to hear something over the deathly silence. ”It’s too quiet.” Jörmungandr finally sighed, tired of the sound of nothing. Olaf gave a sharp snort, jolted from his thoughts by her words. ”It’s always too quiet.” he replied simply, but what could he do about it?