As what appeared to be, usual Olaf found his destination devoid of any equine life. It crossed his mind that perhaps it might be time to move the herd elsewhere, back to the mainland where he had raised a herd so successfully before. That would mean giving up the forest though, a place which held many happy and unhappy memories. He had to question if he was now just keeping them here out of some kind of sentimental duty to his mother and father – raising his own herd the shadow of the great one theirs had been.

The smoky stallion snorted and dipped his head down to drink from the clear water of the stream, his gaze following the path of a stray leaf that floated down on the current. There was nothing really keeping the herd here, his thoughts continued, but no reason to leave either. It was quiet yes, but there was plentiful resources and little interference by predators lately. He could fix quiet if he really tried, but a part of part of his longed to travel again too, to move through different varied landscapes instead of sticking to one place. Perhaps he would bring it up with the rest of the herd soon.