They tell me I'm too young to understand
They say I'm caught up in a dream
It felt more appropriate to be doing this with the cursed heat of possibly the hottest of any of Tallsun’s days on record, bearing down miserably across the desert- Silas did not agree. Surely it would earn her brownie-points from the God of the Sun.

With streams of free flowing sweat dribbling from her boiling body (little waterfalls piddling across the searing red-gold sand beneath and evaporating on contact); Africa collected the last of her treasured possessions which were compiled carefully in the furthest corner of their little den. She had crossed her home twice already that day, unfortunately, having collected throughout her time in Helovia quite an elaborate array of noteworthy bits and pieces- shells, unusually shaped or particularly beautiful (while they were still living) leaves, seed pods and withered flowers; pretty much anything and everything that had caught the lore-loving mare’s wonder filled gaze, and captivated the bright imagination behind it. All had been kept as ornaments; embellishments for an otherwise bland nest, to refresh fading memories that she wished never to lose.

The little failsafe shelter had served her well and more recently, had weathered comfortably enough her avian companion also. Wistfully; as though fantastical memoirs lines every rough, shadow-lined wall, she lifted the last of her belongings all snuggly wrapped within a fresh, green fern leaf that she had searched for the night prior. Slowly she cast a long sweeping final glance around the place and bid it a final farewell. The impression where she bedded still sank into the centre, though now her shuffling about had disfigured it some, and with the bundle swinging precariously between tightly clenched teeth, Africa delicately remade it- an appreciative, respectful gesture, even though the den held neither the ability to feel her tenderness nor see the effort. Then quickly, she turned tightly and slipped out through the gap-door and set out east with a blanket of smothering sunlight heavy across her back.

Midday was upon them, heat constantly rippling and blurring the lines of the horizon. Despite the temperature, Silas was nestled rather comfortably into the crudely thorned frond of a large, shabby palm, enveloped by the tropical tree’s minor shade. He watched with a turned face as the lathered, heaving mare trudged towards the oasis where he had been waiting and observing for a good part of the day. A light squawk greeted her, though he did not move from his roost; never fluffed a feather in sympathy. The shrewd zephyr was a creature of instinct, and while he could not fulfil his great nocturnal will, Silas was not about to expose himself- like his brave beloved, to the full brutality of the sun above. He clucked soundly as she passed beneath, sparing him only the slightest of glances while trying to quell inner resentment so he did not notice.

As she neared the Throat; the vast blue lake whose motionless waters were perpetually sweet and cool, Africa paused in a cloud of thick shade to place her bundle and saunter down for a quick dip- her body ached with heat-stress and the silly creature’s stomach was lurching too, overwhelmed and exhausted. She did not plough right down like a boulder down a cliff- the one-winged Oracle lowered her lips first, to graze and then dabble across the shining surface. Pale yellow eyes roved the embankment surrounding for sight or sound of any nearby, but it seemed that her kin were elsewhere, undoubtedly tending to herd duties. Slowly she descended forward, easing first her already soaked legs into the biting cold; and then her shoulders, barrel and hind-quarters each with the same graceful gradualness. Eventually she was submerged; all but the pinched upturned flap of her charcoal nostrils, and instantly she felt better.