The terrible storm had almost ended her life. She was hopeful that if she had made it through that the others had as well. Though she never usually went out of her hiding spot among the trees, there was a few times she would pop her head out just to see what was new about the place. First her daughter and now her son was running the Inlet just fine. Nicodemus in particular had grown a good sized herd with many children running around.
It swells her heart knowing her children with Solomon were thriving. Sometimes she hates herself for living long enough to see most of her children dead or gone from the islands. Sickness had taken Lorcan, Sigmund had found a terrible fate of loneliness, as had Haskuldr. Though, they had never found Has's body so she held onto hope that he was still alive somewhere out there in the world.
Askold had left the islands a very long time ago now chasing someone he loved. Isabel...that sweet girl was long buried in the Cove. She knew now that she had deserved Solomon much more than herself. A little too late for that. The old mare sighs deeply. Always trapped in the thoughts of the past with only the moments of seeing her grandchild getting her through the day. Even if it was by far she was watching over every one of them.
Pale ears twitch at the sound of approaching voices among the trees. "Who is there?" She questions. It was a rare occasion when someone other than her surviving children came to visit. By their scents it was not Nicodemus or Parvati.