Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
She saw the world through an all new, somewhat primitive perspective these days. No longer did she have the option to surrender to the ecstasy which was to defy the laws of gravity and soar beyond the troubles and despairs of an ever shifting population. She could not remember the bliss of wind ruffled feathers; nor the cool breath of heaven when summer peaked, so far above the baking earth’s surface. It had been too long, and such memories had long been quashed and replaced by those of a subterranean lifestyle; of moss and moisture; darkness and isolation. So long had she crawled about the caves beneath eastern Helovia with Silas, that it had become comfortable and safe; her sanctuary far from the fear which had driven her there.

Naturally she found the vague relief of night time more relaxing, and it was during the darkest hour that she had set off, away from the Throat, to find company in the pine forests of the Threshold. She could remember so long ago, venturing north to dabble in the magical flora that thrived there; the pungent smell of rotting needles and also the maze-like clutter of trees which often trapped the ignorant traveller, forcing them into new beginnings- here in Helovia. Many of those wanderers Africa had come across and rescued in a sense. More often than not, they had been disorientated, sick or exhausted, and always the young dappled mare had reached out to them, guided them home to the safety of her clan.

Africa was not at all an antisocial creature despite the lack of company she had endured since some time during the recent Orangemoon. Silas had tolerated their unnatural hiding for the love of his mate, and although true understanding was still only a glint on the horizon, they had spoken often together. Now he soared guiltlessly beyond the network of forest below, where slowly his bonded followed a trail ever north through the breaking light of dawn. A cool breeze softened the stirrings of life as darkness began to slip away, and no matter how unusual its presence was during the driest, most brutal of seasons, both horse and Zephyr were grateful.

The Threshold seemed quiet. Not as she remembered really, but she continued merrily regardless without pausing to consider why, until ahead a flicker of movement caused her to slow. Africa could see the small figure traipsing alone down the same trail she had been following, and curiously fluttering her nostrils she lifted her face into the mild breeze. The filly she thought was undoubtedly without a travel partner. Perhaps the scuff of her shifting hoof, caught the others attention suddenly, she could not tell but the stranger called out softly, "I-Is anyo-one here?" and should not the breeze have guided the voice downwind, the watching dappled mare might very well have missed its fearful plea altogether.

"I am." She returned quickly, with a voice that was naturally gentle and sweet. "Wait there, I will come to you." Africa knew this would allow the younger time to survey the manner of her approach; determine her composure and assess any threat. Although Africa presented little of that, she would not have been offended should the girl have spooked and fled through the tangle of scrub and pine.
It did not take her long to traverse the remaining path, and soon enough the one winged mare was smiling before the white filly. "Hey there, I’m Africa, can I help?"