Björn's bugle had barely left his lips when the distant thrum of hooves against sand reaches his flicking ears. His glacial blue eyes narrow and search for the source of the noise, he spots a pair of moving horses in the distance. He shifts his weight from hoof to hoof. How long has it been since he has set hoof on the island of Salem? 4 years? 5 years? Perhaps longer. He remembers the day his mother was herded into the crashing waves as if it were yesterday. He had been but a lad, still clinging to her side, when Olaf made his intrusion into their home.

He shakes out his thick mess of mane and chases away the pesky memories. As the mare approaches, he takes notice of the young foal trailing behind her. He was a bit surprised to see a mare charge towards him. He lifts his thick head higher onto his muscled neck and tucks his head towards his chest as she approaches. He shows off his rippling muscles, insuring that if she wanted to chase him off she would have a fight. A snort exits his flaring nostrils as her words fill the space between them.

What brings you to my land? He twitches as single ear in her direction and speaks. "Queen. I have come to your lands in hopes of finding a place to rest." He answers. He eyes her, unsure what her answer would be. If there was room for him, than he would find a way to contribute. If it was just the two of them, they would need his help to insure the lands remained in her control. Their control.