Hoshor Plains the remembering

Were they mingling? Fjall found it hard to tell. Some of the bison were slightly smaller than others, but there was no clear division or sexual dimorphism that he could tell. He wondered if what he heard was even true at all. They are rare, he went on when prompted. Rarer than any other grazer. He stared at them in awe. I could not picture such a beast! It is hard to think something exists when it has only been described to you, Fjall explained, smiling now.

I know the story of Prima, the bison’s first queen. She was the mightiest of her people, gifted by Bos, god of all cattle, and she split the Great Roaming into two: one of women and one of men. The separation brought peace to all bison – erm, outside of the rut, of course. She would call the men back to the women when the time of green ended and leaf-fall begins. They dance to have their children, and then the men were always sent away again before the great snows, taking with them the boys who were now also men. And it is said the bison have kept this tradition in honor of their beloved leader…

He sighed, as if in fond remembrance of a far away time. There is more, of course. The dissenters to Prima, the reasons for the splitting, but it is only a story. They are described exactly as they appear to me now, though if they mingle, then I am sure the tale is not rooted in truth. He certainly didn’t feel beholden to it, but it would’ve been immeasurably grand to see such a tale appear in real life. Or perhaps this is an odd herd! Maybe they have forgotten their ways, or they mingle to spite Prima, he laughed.

Fjall didn’t even realize how comfortable he’d become under the guard of Arktos. He felt as if no harm would come to him, even in the presence of such titans.