VaLkA

mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

To say that Tinuvel was cold was about as eloquent as using the word green to describe Atlantis. There was more to each island than their most defining characteristics, of course - but even that detail aside, there was more to the chill of the Bay or the verdancy of Paradise than could be described in a single word. In the Yakut’s new home, the wind was like a living entity - like a predator that sought to fell the living creatures of the land. It howled across the open tundra like a pack of wolves, sinking razor-sharp teeth into the flesh of the unwary and unprepared. Any individuals who wandered too far from the herd and the shared heat that it provided might be found come morning, their bodies still in the soft blanket of snow, and the vapor of their last breaths frozen hard over their nostrils.

Valka was neither weak nor foolish. As the grasp of winter deepened and her belly continued to grow, the small chestnut wanted nothing more than solitude and the solace it offered from the eyes that now followed her everywhere - and the unsolicited questions they contained. But she continued to huddle with the herd each night, even after sleep became as elusive as the grass they dug deep through the snow to eat. Recently, the foal had begun to flail and kick at the most inopportune times - most notably whenever the skjaldmær let her deep brown eyes drift closed. As if the child’s existence alone was not enough to vex her. As if it were determined that she resent it as much as she resented the gold-and-white male who had brought it into being.

But there was no denying the fierce surge of pride that had begun to fill Valka each time that her unborn child indulged in such a show of its strength. She might conceal it from the others, but the pony-sized mare could not lie to herself as easily. While this may not have been the fate she chose willingly for herself, it pleased the Yakut to feel that her warrior’s heart might be passed on to her foal. That a piece of her might remain on this earth even after she had gone, to live in the Bay and to honor the same gods that she had honored - and then, perhaps, to pass along a piece of itself in turn. Was this why the broddi of her tribe had always seemed so content with their role, even though they fled in fear whenever enemies fell upon the herd?

She had frowned upon them once as less than useless; as mouths who ate the sparse grasses of the tundra while offering little in return. But now Valka understood that though they were more important than any others. They didn’t fight for the future of the tribe; they were the future of the tribe.

Not that it made the fluffy creature eager to surrender her womb again - particularly when yet another sunrise saw her standing sleeplessly beside the large, dozing figure of Loire. Goose’s mate seemed far more suited for the state of pregnancy than the smaller mare who was her guardian, though a certain melancholy tainted what should have otherwise been a joyous time for the draft-like mare. Vowing that she would find a way to reunite the family after the birth of her own child, Valka stretched her own stout limbs and set off without preamble to make yet another round of their home’s boundaries. All might seem still and calm, but the skjaldmær knew that such apparent tranquility often concealed danger. Just a month ago, the frantic howling of wolves had filled the Bay’s days and nights - and though the pack had been far to the west, likely hunting the herd that lived in the Cove, it was too much to hope that the predators had chosen to remain there.

Sinking only knee-deep into the thick cover of snow - a blessing of her smaller, lighter figure - the red Yakut began to head west through the familiar rocky terrain, recalling briefly the children she’d once encountered here. An inexplicable fear filled her belly as she considered that one of them might have well fallen prey to the hungry carnivores - or that her own offspring might. Valka didn’t consider that she, too, might make a tempting target - if any eyes watched her as she followed the indefinite line that stood between her home and Solomon’s.