In some ways, Garmr was kidding, even if he did deliver it as deadpan as if he weren’t. But in other ways, he wasn’t joking. As if always testing if one was as dark as him, though he would never expect that from Dior. Even if she wasn’t the bubbly type, she didn’t carry the same beast inside her that ruled him.


“Had you rather raise a filly here?” He asked to her question. As if that would be answer enough, though he wouldn’t elaborate further. There was plenty of fear she no doubt already carried as the birth loomed nearer. At least she wasn’t already in labor, given her current situation.


Walking passed the mare, Garmr ventured deeper into the water. The dried mud crusted on his painted body swirling into the water as it was washed away. It wasn’t often he was clean anymore, since he had not made a swim from the crossing island in quite some time. It still clung to his face, and knotted in his pale mane as he ventured back out, but the rest of him glistened with his healthy, wet coat.


“How to you hope to raise the child?” he asked out of curiosity. Would it be as he had been raised? Given the necessary things to survive then left. Or perhaps he could teach the foal brutality as he had taught Canine? He doubted anything soft would be able to survive here, survive him, for very long.


GARMR