Dragon’s Throat was first and foremost a haven, formed by the beating hearts of many who needed a cause, comfort or rest; it was forged, in her humble opinion, by the hooves who called it their home and the many souls who devoted their time and love to instil the values so relied upon to maintain the steadfast reputation surrounding it, both everlasting and generous. The herd did not bed those of wicked intent; the cruel and repulsive cults, who threatened the tranquillity of their humble existence, neither did they ordinarily spare consideration for any whom might wish a chance to build for themselves a status worth saluting. Africa had extended to the stallion, marbled with blood-red and brandishing the pitiless weapon of ill repute, something so generous and merciful as her grace and care. He was a fool though, undeniably, and his expression shifted into a sinister sneer at the suggestion that he should rope in his sour nature.

Silas began to rumble angrily, sensing at once the hostility leaking from the porous hide of their ashen company. The horn swung dangerously with each careless shift of his unpleasant face, and both he and his beloved stood well clear of its passage. Some heinous glint passed through his single glowing yellow eye- the other still remained concealed beneath the cunning curtain of forelock. Africa wondered with an impatient, worn smile if there was truly any softness in the crude male at all. He spoke and she blinked unenthusiastically in return, his spiel inciting only a fresh flood of raw disappointment through her veins. It was a fair pint, she realised, but she felt that the life he wanted would be laced with more hardship and risk than even one as stagnantly defiant as himself could realise- she thought in silence in retrospect as his voice filled the tranquil air between them once more, that some indeed seemed to have this villainous edge carved into their rough hearts. Needless to say, she could not relate.

He calmed, perhaps more so than in their whole conversation and pale gold eyes returned the calculating gaze shed. “Indeed.” She said plainly, licking dry rough lips when he turned himself from her in order to leave. He paused and she wondered if she ought to offer him something of herself, something kindly and pragmatic to remind him that her home was one to be remembered for the better. Africa smiled warmly, effortlessly and offered before he said goodbye to her, “I hope we meet again, be safe assassin.” As he bumbled off into the woods once more, wandering ears traced the stallion’s obnoxious path. She chuckled and shrugged at the hopelessness of that endeavour- the futility of all that she had pretended possible to achieve. “Unbelievable...” Her mind whispered light-heartedly to the Zephyr which still gazed after the brute. And Africa and Silas turned south.