Quietly, Bacardi grazed contently at Soraya’s side. Lately it seemed he had not spent nearly as much time there. Whereas the first few seasons he had never left her flank. Clingy as it had seemed, she had never chased him away. His heart had needed it, craved it, and she had healed it by being there for him. An ever-steady anchor to the world adrift around them. Responsibility and desire had taken him from her, but never permanently. He often wondered if she would hold it against him for wanting a bigger herd? For wanting more family? But the painted stallion had never grown brave enough to ask her. Even now, as his golden eyes watched her absentmindedly.


Only the sound of the call of the Skjaldmaer was able to penetrate the Hersir’s thoughts. Raising his head, he still chewed his mouthful as she greeted each member that stood around them. He had just finished and swallowed when she reached him, and he extended his nose towards her though it felt a bit too formal. The time spent together, the secrets shared, it all came crashing down in his mind. But he did not want to step out of line to her leadership among the herd. Not that they were really that in his mind anymore. They were all family, even if he hadn’t talked to them much. He still guarded them vigilantly.


“Is something wrong, Skjaldmaer?” Bacardi cannot help but ask. His brows tugging together to cause faint worry lines on his dark features. He could not recall her ever calling them together like this and he hoped nothing had happened that he didn’t know about. Briefly, his eyes turned from the chestnut yakut and glanced across the others. Only letting loose a breath of relief when he spotted the familiar coat of Kesja. Bringing his golden eyes back to Valka, he waited for whatever news she brought them.

five years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the bay.

"...speech"