Esther stirs when the warmth of Sigurdr’s broad form leaves her side. They’d been slumbering together, pressed close through the night, and she doesn’t know why he would move. She stands with a soft noise, stretching out her sore muscles. Oren is curled close by, still lost to slumber. She’s never known love like she feels for her son; the second he was born, all of her fears were silenced. But having Sigurdr has been invaluable, too - Esther had always thought she would go this alone, didn’t expect to have a loyal lover at her side, someone to raise up her child with. Someone...someone she would stay for. She’d never planned to stick to a single land, submit to the boring life of a herd mare. But Sigurdr, Oren, they make her want to be better.

Speaking of, Esther blinks the sleep from her blue eyes and looks up, watching as Sigurdr slips away through the dense greenery surrounding them, heading for the beach. She hesitates for a long moment, finally ghosting her muzzle along Oren’s side, smiling softly at his sleepy mumbles before he shifts and settles again. The Ridge has been safe, but Esther is still reluctant to leave her son behind. When she hears Sigurdr’s voice, though, she goes after him quickly. Who could he possibly be talking to? They haven’t seen many of the others here, so she’s immediately concerned.

She follows him through the vines, and finds her lover staring up at the sky. “Sigurdr?” she asks gently, stepping in close and brushing her muzzle over his broad, warm shoulder. “What’s wrong? Who are you talking to?” No one else is around, but that doesn’t stop her from casting her gaze around, trying to see if anyone else is around. Esther tries to keep the concern from her voice, but she can’t, suddenly worried their safe haven isn’t so safe anymore. “I left Oren,” she frets after a moment. “Do I need to wake him?”