The sound of gravity, of weight plunging into the densely littered forest floor, was unmistakable, though at distance the drifting dappled mare was mostly uncertain as to the source. Many a time she had been roving alone through the old, hirsute forest and the crash of a rotten or chewed through tree had caused her to startle, such was the chain of life here, and it was to be expected she soon realised. It was only when the murmur of far off voices rumbled through the thick, muggy atmosphere that Africa was alerted truly to the company of others.
It was true that many wandered the Threshold, all with various intentions- whether to find themselves a place to live, or win service for their beloved homeland. Wherever she travelled, the scent of others stained the earth, the fluttering leaves and even the rough bark by which they passed at one time or another. The curious grey sniffed carefully the signs left behind, deciphering between the familiar, the old and the potential- she had travelled north in search of any who were lost, weary or roaming; those who wanted to settle.

Buried safely beneath the flaccid drape of silken grey-green material, Africa’s disability was mostly concealed from the prying eyes of any lurking through the trees around her. The one-winged mare’s appearance was not balanced these days, though the need to survive which was entrenched through her being concealed the weakness well enough. Initially she could not see the horses who spoke; could not determine their identities if even they had previously met. She was uncertain if danger loomed in the striped shadows around her. The dappled Pegasus stepped closer to the low sound confident that Silas, her stalwart guardian, would warn her if the need to flee arose. Africa was mostly defenceless- her nature was quite the opposite of the sort necessary for a warrior and without the ability to fly, she had become a somewhat less assertive creature, now both measured and unobtrusive.

Silas flew ahead, wheeling artfully through the forest in the direction of the meeting. She wondered as she watched his glittering form disappear if his raptor eyes had already even located them. Quietly and carefully she trailed him, reaching through her heart into his own to find out whether it was safe for her to continue. Never did the pace of his pulse begin to flurry, and for the most part, Africa searched without concern. Soon enough the broken silhouettes of a pair materialised through the winding labyrinth and Africa hesitated, face lifted high so that flared nostrils could test the lingering scent. The first was immediately recognised- Gaucho, the throat’s Sultan, though she could not find a name or face for the second. She was a mare, obvious enough, and where her sense of smell failed, keen eyes pursued her instead; long heavy ears falling forward as they too searched the pair curiously.

Africa caught the trailing words of the stranger easily, and an amused smile pulled softly at the wrinkled corners of her mouth. She could easily imagine the stout, outlandish stallion guarding an area three times as large as the Threshold- he was tough; perhaps the greatest in the Throat’s army, but so entertaining was the idea of him warding of the masses which were strewn around them, that a light-hearted giggle broke her cover.
Politely then, she strode forwards into the narrow space through which they were stopped. She greeted the stallion respectfully, stiffening her expression for a moment as though the stoic spread of his features was contagious like a wretched Frostfall flu. “Sir.” She said simply and humbly, and turned towards the other Pegasus- cheer returning across her bright, pale face. “Gaucho defends our home, Dragon’s Throat. He is our Sultan- the head of our family.” Africa paused to draw a breath, to consider her next words- to simplify them purely as a courtesy for him.

Silas swept down from the high bough of an oak which he had hidden himself upon. The raven-feathered zephyr whose glossy cloak sparkled like the stars in the shade of the woods clucked gently as he came to rest in the dip of her cloak shroud back- the silk slipping beneath his weight, causing him to flutter in place until he was quite balanced there.
She continued easily; comforted by the presence of the masterful warrior and his unusual, black-scaled companion. “I’m Africa. I hope it’s alright if I join you?”

(ooc- Aud, you are welcome to kick me out and I will delete this ;)