Jǫrmungandr stood today beneath the shade of a lone acacia tree, one eye peering out across the rippling golden sea of grass. The Prairie had been blessedly peaceful lately, the fiasco of Claret's kidnapping left behind them. It felt like the family was once again looking to the future, rather than dwell upon the mistakes and tragedies of the past. All was well.

Yet still Jǫrmungandr could not help but wonder if the Prairie was at risk. They were not lacking in proper protection - Falkor, Jasper, and Raziel made fine guardians, but without any real power afforded to them by Zevulun, they seemed just as helpless against a threat as any regular herd member. And with tensions rising between the islands, one of whom they were allied to, they may very well need all the protection they could get should chaos erupt and war ensue. Jǫrmungandr had never concerned himself with inter-island politics before, but the potential dangers the herd - his family - faced had become too great for him to willingly ignore.

For weeks Jǫrmungandr pondered over whether or not to approach his father about it. He felt uncertain as to whether or not Zevulun would even accept his offer to step up as second. Since he was but a foal at his mother's side Jǫrmungandr had watched his father rule the Prairie alone, a solitude figurehead tasked with guiding and protecting. Would Zevulun be willing to share the burden of leadership with him? Would he dismiss Jǫrmungandr's request as nothing more than the ramblings of a too-ambitious child? Zevulun had never made him feel unwanted, insignificant, or dismissed, but many of Jǫrmungandr's siblings were far older and far more qualified for the spot.

Yet none seemed keen on filling the role themselves. Mother might have made a fine queen, given the tales she had spun for him about her time as the Inlet's matriarch, but the years had taken their toll on her and she was far too old to be considering such a thing now.

If no one else will do it, Jǫrmungandr thought solemnly to himself, then I will at least try.

Jǫrmungandr abandoned his post beneath the gnarled branches of the acacia and set off in search of his father. He zigzagged across the Prairie for an hour, his good eye fixed to the horizon, until he finally stumbled across his sire. His nephew was with him, but Lilija was nowhere to be seen.

"Dad," Jormungandr greeted, reaching out to offer an exchange of breath before he cast a sweeping glance towards the horizon, head turning slowly until he spotted his sister's distant figure. She was little more than a retreating dot on the horizon. For a long moment he watched her, then turned a questioning look to Zevulun. "Where's Lily going?" he asked plainly, head tilted slightly to the side, one dark eye fixed on his father's face. He'd always known his sister to be somewhat of a homebody, rarely leaving the Prairie in favor of spending time with family. Jormungandr wondered what might have happened to drive her from their home, and whether or not he should be concerned.

But he did not allow any hint of trepidation to show on his face as he turned his focus to Leukos, giving the colt a playful bump on his shoulder. "Leukos, you didn't give your mother too much trouble and send her running, did you?" he asked teasingly, an amused gleam in his dark eyes.

Perhaps the conversation he had in mind could wait just a little bit longer.