Few clouds wandered the sky that night, only the flimsy wisps of white moisture which hindered little, the extravagance of the vibrant face watching over the desert. Many journeys to and from the Threshold forest in recent days, had wearied limbs unintended for the lumber of ground travel, and the gentle rush of icy salt water soothed the ache within each brave fetlock. It felt wonderful, indescribable, and Africa’s mood began to lift with the pleasant company offered and the tides which cleansed the fatigue of her dutiful body. Glowing, yellow eyes absorbed the manner of the stallion thoughtfully, and she appreciated the thoroughness of their conversation; because frills and graces seemed like such an endless front to show. Few stopped to truly talk with the dappled Oracle over the months passed, and she had grown used to the lone company of Silas and the fire she tended, resting in her swamp of thoughts, and reflective solitude.

“I was determined when I arrived, that healing was my niche. My goal was to study hard beneath our Sun Physicians Onni and Cirrus.” She scoffed then, light heartedly enough, but Africa knew that her ambitions had been quite contrary to almighty plan of her Lord. “Only recently the Sun God appointed me his Oracle. I wouldn’t say I chose my role, no- but with divine intervention I have come to realise that my skills and attributes were well matched to this title. My faith lies squarely with our Sun God; he is far wiser than the mortals strolling his land like fleas upon a canine, he guided my blind hope and for that I am eternally grateful.” Africa fell silent- the delicate sweetness of her soft voice began to crumble into the lapping ocean. She had offered more tonight to Silk than she had to any other for a long while. Unsure whether she had crowded him, the one winged mare smiled gently and asked in reference to the last statement he had delivered, “Are you a follower of the Moon Goddess?” Without letting foolish presumptions conquer her innocent curiosity, Africa imagined her devotees to be much like him- it was the second time they had met by her hour.

Then he stepped closer, and Africa watched carefully, his breath now billowing around her though the bursting wind only let it linger for mere seconds. He seemed unfazed; like perhaps he too sought the bitter bite of the cleansing waters by their back door. Genially she remained in place and allowed him to share her posse there. She listened quietly, ears leaning against the grim honesty of his admission. “There are no rules.” She informed him quickly, hoping to quell the rebellion before it began to leak throughout his captivating frame. “We have two leaders these days, Midas is one, and Gaucho is the other.” She let her gaze swim through the solemness of his otherwise obscure expression. “All that is required if you stay, would be to cherish those we love- those in our herd, our friends and our allies; respect firstly any who present upon our doorstep and avoid contact if possible with our foes.” For the moment following she thought hard, trying to remember anything else that had been mentioned in the recent meeting. In actual fact, Africa had been so entranced by the manner of her appointment that little else had been retained.