Tyr stands alone, as he is found more times than not, since arriving at the Ridge. His blue-green eyes cast out across the sunny, green scenery, taking in its beauty on this clear, perfect weather day. He couldn’t remember the season he had claimed the Ridge; couldn’t remember how many had come and gone since then. It had been many, that he did know. But this place still felt foreign at times. Like he was nothing but a visitor. As if Faolain was still the reigning leader of this territory.


When the call rang out, Tyr was pulled free of his reminiscing. He recognized Asphara’s voice, which surprised him that she would be beckoning him. Last he had caught wind of her, it had been mingled with another stallion’s scent. He had been sure that she would leave the Ridge with her newfound companion; much like she had shown up here when she had been pregnant with Rosa. Taking in both mother and daughter, and then being pregnant with his child; shouldn’t that have gained him some loyalty in the very least? Shaking his head, Tyr picked his way through the territory until he came across the mother and child.


Looking upon the colt, although red, there was no denying that he was Tyr’s blood. The thickness of his legs, the width of his young chest, and the feathers already forming on his fetlocks. “You’ve done well, Asphara. Another strong, healthy foal.” the stallion complimented in greeting. “What is it you need from me today?” Tyr asked. Since she had never called to him before, he suspected there was something she needed.