When Garmr had seen Isengrim leave, the draft stallion had not given it much thought. When the new lagoon boss followed, the sabino had grown curious. Tension was surely hanging heavy between the two stallions after the election, and he wondered where they might be going. Would there be any juicy drama once Nahawi caught up to Isengrim? Unable to curb his interest now, he had trailed after the two, staying out of sight but not truly trying to be secretive either.


When their scents took him to the beach, Garmr was a bit surprised to find himself staring out across the salty waves towards Atlantis. He hadn’t visited that island yet, and he couldn’t find a better reason than now. They were a good enough excuse if someone else found him; not that Garmr ever excused or tried to apologize for anything he did.


Easing off into the water, he made the swim between islands and then continued to follow their scents for awhile before wandering his way up through the trees, breaking from their trail. By now he could see both stallions, even as the palms whipped around him as the storm came in and the weather mirrored what he felt on the inside. It was nearly comforting to Garmr that something might be even angrier than him as it battered and beat his brothers below.


Making his way down the slope of land, he stopped when he could clearly stare down at the pair. His curtain of forelock plastered to his dark face, but his gleaming eyes still glittered with amusement between the lighter strands, unclear if it was their dangerous predicament or his words that made him wear such an expression. “Careful, Isengrim. He might try to drag you back on purpose.” Without waiting for a reply, the draft stallion turned and climbed his way back up to the higher ground he had descended from.



GARMR