One of Hildegunn’s priorities in the days that followed that first interaction with Vu, was to find the feather-flanked stallion who had more or less stormed from their company, in the deep, dark dead of night; she’d not caught the name after all, which had been whispered so carelessly into the thieving course of the wintry wind. Naturally however, he was not at the very forefront of her lazy mind, and concern for his welfare never once touched her thoughts. He (or something about him), apparently haunted the taller black she followed though - she had lead boldly out and away from the old redwood forest after him, and still tracked him many suns after with sound, solemn purpose. Her quiet determination was thoroughly fascinating in truth.

Shameless chocolate eyes roamed ahead to trace the leaner backside of Vu, intrigued as well, that one so svelte (who also appeared not to share her own keen fondness for regular meal breaks), found energy enough to pursue another so doggedly. Such was the belief of her primordial tribe back home in Skjoervø, that never should the groan of a gut be ignored. Truly nourishing browse upon their beloved island - that un-touched by ice and wind, was so scarce, that any shunned favour of food from the deities could lead swiftly to starvation and agonising death (it was vital to have stores of fat to draw from). Neither too did they want to insult the benevolence of their divine carers.

On and on they walked. 

Hildegunn lagged behind thoughtlessly and without any real sense of urgency to thrust her forward, for the most part enjoying the ambience; absorbing the curious phenomenon which had consumed the world around them in barely the length of time they’d been travelling. Skaði, it seemed, had at last relinquished her cruel, wintry hold on the world and the warmth thereafter, felt immediate - in fact, glistening, silvery sweat soon stained the heavy coat worn about the Fjord’s girth and thighs. Again she paused. After a brief glance to secure the path of her focused friend, lips sank eagerly to fish out infant tendrils of sugary grass concealed beneath the slushy mat of melting snow, and sour, flattened vegetation (preserved from a season some time before), by her hooves. The greedy girl’s tastebuds tingled with delight, not for one second disappointed by the decision.

As her young, mousy-hued face lifted once more, the billowy breeze offered taste of an unmistakably familiar scent; he was near, the stallion, and the round mare stirred her short, nimble legs into a brisk trot (nothing particularly energetic of course). “Vu!” she called brightly, excited, exotic tone shattering the tranquility of the open, airy atmosphere. Her gaze danced by tall rows of spindly green almost everywhere about them, but settled soon after on her friend ahead. “Han er nær, jeg kan lukte ham. Tror du han reiste ned på den måten?” Eyes hastened about the near vicinity, hunting half-heartedly for his dark mottled frame (the clash of dim colours which had been noted through the darkness prior), before wandering at last down a close, curious laneway - one hedged oddly on both sides by the same towering trees. Never had she seen a forest like it. Hildegunn waited unambitiously for the other to lead, seizing opportunity again to scout for new spring shoots.