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With a chirp and fluttering of wings that was a little too eager given the early morning hour, Silas roused the slumbering mare from the grip of strange, contorted nightmares.
Furrows where legs had been thrashing; galloping perhaps, scored the smooth, soft sand of the nest and wilting flowers, unusually shaped rocks… a seashell here and there; Africa's treasured possessions were strewn untidily across the floor- certainly not how she had arranged them. Sand dusted over the rise and fall of her tight barrel; restless breathing. It had been quite a spectacular night.
All the while, Silas had been roosting, tucked upon a shelf in the top corner of their safe little den, watching helplessly as his beloved fell in and out of those night terrors; unwilling to fight her flailing strength to try to rescue her. As she stilled though once more, lulled into some form of crude serenity, he swooped from his bed to wake her.
It was no easy task. At first the young grey fought his advance, lashing wildly where she lay, trapped tightly in a world that was no longer real; but as the time passed by, with Silas's dogged persistence, the mare awoke and scrambled instantly to her feet.
Sweat lathered the shoulder and flank that had been exposed to the warm night air and the other side was caked with sodden, glue-like sand, pressed snugly into her dappled hide. With a brisk snort and heavy shake there beneath the overhang of rock, Africa calmed her spinning mind and turned to the Zephy, who was speckled by flung sand, huddled in the furthest corner for the sake of his own safety.
"I'm sorry." She said with a soft, amused chuckle. "Was it the dreams again?" The question, she knew, would achieve no response- they could not understand one another in that respect, but the little avian did direct her way a sharp resentful scowl (of sorts) and skipped quickly past her crowding body into the open air of the desert outside. Bouncing twice through the substrate, his wings spread and he lifted between powerful beats into the expanse above- star-shine glittering across his raven-black body as he went.
Africa followed through the gaping split in the rock and stretched each of her long, sturdy limbs. It was still dark and she predicted dawn would not seep through their home for another solid two hours or so. Far away, silver-white stars twinkled and she smiled at them quietly, enamoured since the bond had been set between herself and the nocturnal, star-specked Silas.
Swiftly she turned north, aware that it was the morning she was required to meet Midas and Gaucho by the border. Africa was conscious of the fact that her grounding would hold their expedition up, and so had chosen this hour to journey there alone; to meet them on time.
At a brisk walk; a canter where the loam was packed tightly, it took her round about an hour to find the long looming shadow of wall marking the northernmost border. Carefully she slowed, eyes not so keen without the shed of milky-moonlight, at the cue of her sparkling guide above- Silas paused and dipped lower in the sky as they arrived. The one-winged mare hugged close against the cold, hard wall uncomfortably outside the protection of the Throat, in the weight of darkness.
Soon enough the familiar voice of Midas spilt down upon her and Africa emerged from the walls shadow, her lit-up bonded swooping to land upon her back so that she might appear more easily from the sky above. She was not keen to sing out a response, gravely mindful that she was vulnerable; both by inexperience and because of her grizzly handicap. But she was there, waiting for the two stallions with everlasting patience.
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[O] Lets get our hooves dirty (guacho, africa, open)
