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Above the growl of the frothing sea, an incomprehensible voice stumbled ahead of the driving wind- "SHE IS DEAD, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SCUM! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" And although Africa’s ears did not easily translate the hideous message, it was laced with such ferocity that Africa’s eyes flung apart to reveal renewed, rolling fear. Her pinched face jerked wildly towards the source of the tirade. As shock stirred the dappled mare’s heart into a feeble frenzy, Silas startled, though without the mental scars was able to recover himself and lift against the rush of icy cold air to scout ahead.
The stallion, whose saturated pelt bore darker dapples than his bonded, was the only other body on the beach; his presence upon the stark white sand was unmistakable through sharp violet hawk eyes. They narrowed suspiciously as the irate stranger stumbled about, perhaps blinded by his rage.
Africa felt the young Zephyr’s mood shifts, and she backed up a little as her pale eyes wandered up the way to find what had sparked his mistrust. Indeed there was another horse, and the grey mare’s ears flickered as she hesitated; deciding whether it might have been a safer choice remaining deep within the ancient misty forest instead. Trouble seemed to haunt her; follow her; she felt as though danger’s cunning fingers had some dirty hold on her soul, and any effort to shed its effect was futile.
The waves crashed about the murky creature’s fallen corpse and Africa was bitterly torn between the small sliver of kindness; the slight glimmer her former self, and that of the new traumatized apprehension which squeezed all sensibility and goodwill from her heart. She was filled with reluctance, and it caused her legs to lock in place. So much had happened; so many psychological scars now etched into lines across her facade; a pained grimace lingered through her gentle eyes.
Africa’s only wing clenched tightly against the visible rib-barring along the right side of her barrel. The body seemed to move, to heave upwards in a dripping mass of foam and ocean water. Still the waves churned around the forlorn figure, though it did not move to safer ground. A memory flashed before her eyes, like the wispy trail of a shooting star- it could have been real, or it could have been imagined. It was of a stallion, with a cloak of murky grey puddles, wading through a swollen river despite the danger; despite the threat to his life. Africa had beckoned him out; rescued him from imminent death.
The stallion lugged himself from the water at last, and as he dithered for a moment, a sinister laugh filled the grim, grey atmosphere. Silas had seen enough. Swiftly the Zephyr swooped downwards to alight, for the first time, atop his bonded’s pointed withers. The skin beneath prickled and flinched at the alien touch, but he was not shooed away. An urgent energy swept through them both, provoked by the star-misted bird’s desire to return to Hellena and Smoke, and to the mare that had wrapped Africa beneath her shielding wing. It was time- now.
Africa turned in that instant, yielding to the potent emotion of her wise young friend; her guardian.
Even before she had time to ascend the first granite rung though, the same maniacal cackling peeled through the air around them; everlasting and amplified upon the howling, Frostfall wind. It was much closer though, now. The stallion’s swift gait, his cunning approach, had been well masked by the muffling slip of the sandy loam beneath their hooves, and both Silas and Africa turned suddenly to find his crazed green eyes devouring Africa’s tattered body.
Murderer...
The word resonated like the clattering of a rockslide through Africa’s balking skull.
Feeding off her terror, Silas screeched angrily at the stranger’s brazen transgression, throwing a warning down between them. The feather’s forming the sleek dark crest along his narrow neck flared, as too did those cloaking his body and his size doubled- if only by way of clever illusion.
A frightened bleat escaped the mare’s quivering maw as she reversed clumsily from him. Africa did not know him; the horrible insanity rolling through his hungry eyes; the half lost ear, none of it was familiar- aside from that word, murderer. She looked instinctually for the horn which she presumed should compliment such frenzy; that wild glaze across his crazed green pools, but there was not one and she was confused.
Another screech echoed around them, bouncing up through the rock passage towards which Africa backed. The Zephyr opened his wings, and immediately the wind lifted his light-weight frame from its perch. Angry that the stallion was not heeding his admonition, the bird angled a vicious, missile-fast swoop toward him. His intention was not to strike nor wound; it was just a more potent caution to ward predator, away from his prey.
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