A welcome shift in season brought a steady cool to the midlands of Helovia. Weaving a gently moaning passage through the corridor of old trees, a rush of wind swept and upon its moist breath was the longed-for taste of unsteady weather- perhaps not an autumn squall given that the plumes of mild white and grey above seemed to bare no animosity to the world mulling below. The same draught encased the young dappled mare where she stood waiting with almost baited breath; long luxurious tendrils of oily grey shades quivering at the placid stroke, flapping against the warmth of her thick dark neck whenever it drew fuller. Likewise too was the idle length of her full tail fingered, and she flicked it gently from one knobbly hock to the opposite.

Soft honey yellow eyes roved from one point of the breathing mass where he lay still, noting patiently (with little else to achieve for the moment), various points of interest about him- the gentle ringlets of a lavish black mane, and tail to match, the sleek muscular ridges and slopes of a well-appointed, potentially limber frame, and even more curiously still, the stark white blotch of snow-white feathers breaking the weight of ebony on his large left wing. Over all, and without the gift of a face to face meeting thus far, Africa thought him to be rather lovely to look at- a fine specimen of their grand culture. He moved though, naturally unwilling to invite danger to feast upon his fallen body, tucking snuggly his wingspan after lifting his refine skull to greet her without the transparentness she offered to him through unpretentious eye contact.

The young Oracle shifted quietly in place, readying herself; haunches clenched and upper forelimbs gritting with intent. She did note though that his demeanour had softened when he had acknowledged her, and that offered small comfort to her weary form; softening its ridged lines just enough. She was not fearful, nor passive or ill-mannered. Much heartache had spoilt the modest creatures trust, and these days she was none too careful to avoid those wishing conflict. Africa could not have known that his body; his gift and his birth right had been stolen like her own.

At last he spoke, and the surprise note of his harsh voice drew the attention of the little black Zephyr who still perched just above them. A croak slipped from between cold hard shells of beak and Africa smiled mildly at the overly cautious outlook of her friend. Before she replied to the unfamiliar Pegasus she glanced towards the avian and spoke into the sharp fissures of his mind- “Don’t be so fast to judge.” she returned her easy gaze to the stallion, and the stewing return of her confidence- the conviction she felt to aid the apparently troubled soul before her, compelled a kindly smile to pull the corners of her mouth upwards.

Fluttering nostrils drew deeply the scent of him when he apologised, and as she expelled the breath- the sweet hint of a light-hearted chuckle, Africa began to reply reassuringly, “No hard feelings brethren, I…” She was interrupted though, clever ears finding the trek of another nearby, even before they had merged into view and widening eyes were sent upon the pale lifted face to scavenge through the cluttered forest. Not far from the duo, the shadowy slink of a darker grey mare slipped into the open and Africa found her effortlessly, turning instinctively with pricked ears and complete focus to regard the newcomer. She seemed vaguely familiar, unsettlingly so, though the hesitant Oracle could find no trace of a name to hold her by.

She came close, brazenly and without the curse of suspicion and her mood was upbeat as she addressed Africa by name. Her stomach pitched awkwardly and for the briefest of moments the one-winged mare felt the pang of guilt. Too much had happened in recent times and she chose not to dwell on the vagueness of her flailing memory. There would have been little time so return the verbal salutation regardless, the new mare’s eyes swimming quickly forward to grasp the unfortunate male who was still lurking behind the veil of his thick forelock. Africa followed suit naturally and politely, ignoring the suddenness of the barefaced interruption while turning simply towards him as he became the centre of the other mare’s attention.