As the burning, scorching face of summer sank below the western cliff line, Africa held her breath, the anticipation of the moment almost too great to fathom. It was the passage of time; the inescapable journey of all living things; the loss of one era making way to a new. Already the cool breath of Orangemoon had been sweeping in refreshing bursts through the desert; whispering ocean tides and crisp, salty hints, washing away the dry miserable heat of the day- and the many like it, past. And so too did the light fade away, vibrant purple red sunset, fading into the demure blue-grey hues of twilight. It was a beautiful transition, fierce and frightening, and Africa’s lungs pushed the withheld air from their midst.

Only when the night’s smothering blanket had well and truly dimmed the light did the young Oracle turn from the sky. The fire was aglow as her tired eyes fell upon it, dancing, lively flames soothing and comforting to a soul that had worked tirelessly since being appointed their caretaker. Charcoal lips were dipped towards the sand, and they wrapped snuggly around the hardened arm of an old naked branch- the tree who once held it, dead also, though standing still steadfastly nearby. Africa lifted it carefully, aiming the tapering point towards the fire pit and thrust it artfully through the golden-orange flames; forcing further the offering of late Tallsun daisy’s into its centre. She had pottered all day, seeking only the finest flowers from the meadow beyond Helovia’s heart, and the fresh gift was devoured rapidly by the gluttonous blaze.

Silas watched in relative silence, purring occasionally as contentment seeped through their united hearts, roosting comfortably in the skeleton tree. The stars speckling his raven black feathers reflected the emerging milky-way above, glistening and shining through the looming night. He was a nocturnal creature, and would watch over the mare tirelessly throughout.
Africa would not sleep that night either, her head was spinning with the recent whirlwind of events and happenings, and while it churned she could find no rest. Instead she would tend the fire as usual with stewing love and tenderness; mumbling all the while to herself and her Bonded a ballad about a crude warrior, the finest of them all. It was welcome distraction from her thoughts.

“Oh, Kri the Resolute
You were the bravest of them all
Try and try and try they did
But none could make you fall

The Throat you served so staunchly
Your people loved you so
They think so often ‘bout you
They ask, ‘where did you go?’

The answers may never be revealed
Though your legend will not fade
I sing this song for you right now
Your story has been made

Our hearts forever ache with sadness
Our secret tears sill flow
For what it meant to lose you
Only your kin will ever know.”