Beneath the impassibly rugged face of the easternmost mountain range, two caves (or prison cells- she was yet to learn their true purpose) had been carved. Bathed in the deep shadow of a thundery morning, the one nearest to the cascading water kept safely hidden the missing Sultana, Africa the Starry-Eyed, and had done so since the very last blizzard of Frostfall when Midas the Gallant had stolen her boldly from harm’s grip.

Light-golden eyes peered out through dense rain quietly and found the lovely soft green cloak which had been stuffed for the most part of winter inside the leather-satchel set down by the back wall of her cool, damp sanctuary. It was draped delicately across two low shrubs, spread out with care so that it might be washed well by Birdsong’s first rain and then perhaps dried in turn when the bright sun grew again fierce enough to burn away all of the clouds. Already the old desert dust had been rinsed away, and the lovely moss green hue had returned.

The one-winged mare sighed deeply, pensively, right as thunder again rumbled heavily through the bleak atmosphere above.

She stepped from the rock shelter, the mild warmth it offered, and into the cold steadily plunging rain. Even before she had crossed soggy grass to reach the cloak, her coat was quite soaked through – it was thin and patchy, sagging terribly between starving hips and to either side of her spine’s steep pitch. Her long, unkempt mane grew heavy (as did her tail), and her neck bowed feebly as it struggled to keep thin lips clear of the ground. Vain troubles had ruined her appetite and she had barely scraped through Frostfall; mentally she was ailing, though since her arrival here and the gentle grace of her brother, Africa’s outlook was improving progressively. She reached the bushes in the same moment as her steadfast companion, and together they worked to turn over the fabric.

'Doesn’t it look so much cleaner?' she asked him, eyes brightening as the water dribbling from its tapered brim turned crystal clear- it was exactly the result she had hoped for, and Silas crooned fondly before fluttering clumsily back to the cave to preen waterlogged wings. Shivering, the dappled Pegasus turned to follow.