The night was cool and comfortable, always a contrast to the dull, energy sapping heat of the desert day- no matter the season surrounding. Africa gazed towards the stallion, catching only fleeting glimpses of the crimson orbs which lurked beneath their curtain of shimmery silvery, moon washed gold. The fragility between Silk and her bonded seemed to quiver and fray as foul glances were swapped disapprovingly, from one and then the other and the quiet mare wanted to chuckle at the comedy which seemed destined to play out. She had met no other like this creature whose coat shone as black as a moonless midnight hour, and he warmed her heart; forced the ricocheting apprehension stewing in her mind to steady and fade.

“I suppose we could agree to a truce.” He said and Africa couldn’t help but wonder with watching, sparkling eyes how begrudgingly it had been intended. She could feel the impatience of her Zephyr friend’s heart, the intolerance which seem spared for only the select few who really bothered him. Silk however was their kin, the Pegasus stallion was to stay whether the avian cared for the fact or not. The pragmatic mare offered him the thoughts prudently and matter-of-factly through blunt flashes of her mind, and added too, the offer of Silk’s “Truce?” though it sounded more sincere and definitive through their unyielding bond.

The reply was an aggrieved acceptance- and much the same way Africa had done for Silk, she readily interpreted into something more genuine. “Silas agrees.”

With the diplomacies and bitterness of unspoken presumptions cleared from their midst, the dappled Oracle drew a long breath, smiled and rocked the bulk of her weight left beneath the avian to rest her hind hoof at a lazy tilt in the sand. Tender, unassuming eyes drifted out from beneath the waves of her own long, thick forelock and she tilted her face gently to help its tumble aside. She thought idly as she waited through the lingering silence that he seemed hesitant, restrained- like he wanted to say something but the words were barred behind closed teeth. When at last he did, she answered effortlessly and gracefully.

“I’ve been here for five seasons. Midas collected me from the Threshold when I first stumbled into Helovia, and the Throat has been my comfortable bed since.” Dozens of faces had passed through their core since, though few offered commitment and honour- the vast majority had vanished both from the desert territory, and Helovia itself. She figured those who had been lost to the sand-blown winds of time were a small loss, and that those who rooted themselves into the herd were of far greater value. Before he spoke again she offered a query of her own, and pastel eyes focused hard and carefully; hoping that the answer would be yes. “Will you stay?”

The topic withered with the melting waves breaking around their hooves- the tide was rising to meet the full face of the moon, and already Africa was standing inches deeper. Silk spoke again and she appreciated the fluidity; the way he seemed so easily to socialise. For her, the skill ha only come relatively recently- for the most part it had begun as a cunning disguise of courage and confidence, but down through the channels of her soul she was still the meek insecure creature which shied from confrontation and… Unicorns… “A crafter cannot always bend the metals of this world.” She answered cryptically, shoving towards him an overly playful nudge. “I celebrate the spirit of the flame because it is my role in this herd- it is as new to me as this cool change of Orangemoon is to our home.” Africa felt a strange ease in the company of the stallion who had previously unsettled her with brash mannerisms and an ego that far overwhelmed her own. She relaxed with him there, forgetting almost entirely the pressures still draped about her rolling shoulders. “Actually, I quite like the peace and obscurity offered by night’s blanket. With daylight comes the hurry of life and no time to breath.”