Meadow

Ingrid's golden gaze oriented back to the mare at her side thoughtfully as she exclaimed in delight over the progress they'd made. Reluctantly, an answering smile curled across her lips and she shook her head in good-natured amusement. True, Ingrid probably should have had a more concrete description ready before asking others to look out for him, but she hadn't expected to be called out for it immediately. Perhaps she would have to circle back to the strange omen-man on the beach of the Jötunn-trees and try her new and improved description on him.

Even more surprising than the enthusiasm of her golden companion was the sheer amount of useful advice that she was freely offering. Not only had she pointed out that Ingrid needed a better description, and that speaking about it freely may have alerted him, but she went on to suggest a trap. In truth, Ingrid had no idea what her quarry would seek out here in this strange land, and yet she knew there were a few things her kind preferred.

The cold for one.

Ingrid had fled from the sweltering jungles of Jötunn-treeland not only because it was exhaustingly foreign and empty of her quarry, but also because it was so hot. With a thick mane and tail on top of a coat meant to endure cold nights, even in the warmth of summer, it had been miserable to stand in that humidity. Even these crossing grounds were likely too warm for her, although it was hard to tell beneath the rain that still fell around them. Flicking the sodden strands of her tail, Ingrid only nods in response to that suggestion but resolves to mull it over later to see if there was anything that she could bait him with.

"I can't say that I've seen much of these islands," Ingrid says after a moment, her gaze flicking toward the far distant island of Atlantis. "I landed on a place they called the Harbor, on the island Atlantis that was…" She trailed off as she struggled to word just what she had experienced on the strange tropical island. Shaking her head ruefully, the monochrome mare chuckled before explaining. "Mmm, it was hot. And wet. And very, very green." With a small disgusted wrinkle of her muzzle, she emphasized. "So green."

In truth, Atlantis was probably pretty by most conventional standards. But to the small Icelandic mare who had been born and raised on a land of beautifully desolate open space and harsh ocean waves, it was excessive. As if Iðunn had been overly indulgent had created herself a garden and then let it run wild without oversight or care.

Shaking her head, she gestured back out to the land around them. "And this, I reckon, is the gathering land that the omen-man was talking about. Although we seem to be the only ones doing any gathering in this rain." Her mind cast suddenly back to what the golden mare had said earlier and she flared her nostrils until the faint scent of clay reached her nose and took a half step in that direction. "We could maybe try over there for water - if you're still thirsty."