For how many days had this nightmare, this cruel reality and the macabre scars laid upon her sweet-natured soul, haunted her very existence. The memory of all which had happened; the ghost white mare, the long foreboding journey north, that precarious ice-slick mountain pass through which Hell’s frozen basin gaped- for so long she had presumed such to burn not blow with bitter winds. How wrong she had been. The demonic population who thrived in that pit, held no honour, no humility, nor heart. They had proven their unkindness; ruined the belief and trust which had straddled her short life’s path. Those Unicorns had marred a heart with guilt and blinding paranoia. They had filled her mind with self loathing and her body with pain. It was to be a slow decay of the brightest spirit, the slide from innocence into quicksand shame.

They were here now, in this cave... this Sanctuary.

Africa had fought and fought- even now, as Midas’ strange eyes struggled, she battled the crumble of her own resolve to bear still a little longer, that which he needed to purge.

A hurt which she could never have imagined possible; emotion which she had never believed to exist, the wrench of her own heart- still worse than any anguish lain upon its tender thud before. He did not hide it from her like always he had previously, and the reality of his mortality struck her conscience like the blade of a knife. For the entire time their paths had intertwined through the unpredictable course of life, Africa had gazed upon him with wondering, starry-eyes; captivated by his strength both physically, and the tender resolve of his impeccable mind. The population seemed to sway as he passed, whispering of truth and valour into the soft arms of the breeze so that it might carry his legend for all of eternity. The Gallant...

Perhaps her impression had been a little fanatical. It had been an important inspiration nonetheless.

The pained furrows etching the remains of a valiant facade turned as she withdrew in a trembling mass- Africa could hear in the ruined void of her mind, the rattle of bones upset as the earthquake of her own emotion began to rumble angrily through her core. She didn’t want to leave him like that; her morality writhed between the desolation of her friend and the grim revelation that perhaps she had actually already undermined him; pulled the last soil from the grave his downtrodden form balanced above. She could not have known how old that warning of Kri’s now was; the sound of its menacing message echoed still constantly (her voice, her stare; the wicked mischief that had threaded Sinuhe’s plan prickled the fine hair along her spine. Africa felt so bitterly cold and alone; lost again, beneath drifts of relentless northern snow- wishing her bones to bleach there, where no Pegasus would dream to look. Where she had deserved to gasp the last of life’s breath alongside the sister she had failed.

She would have preferred the weight of Midas’ conviction ten times over; she could have shouldered the brunt of his crumbling for an eternity, should not have the burden of her own lies fallen so heavily between. His voice stumbled, trailing the suddenness of her heartless retreat, though she could do naught but shatter internally, desperation binding her own tongue into grim silence. She had abandoned him in the weakest of his moments.

For the first time in a long time, her eyes began to burn as tears swelled across their stony exterior. The Gallant’s appeal drew trembling lips forward with hesitant, hot breath spewing from their middle; the fine long whiskers bristled as trepidation warred so viciously with her quest for solitude and privacy. It was a battle she could not win, and although dogged shoulders clenched to keep her mass from returning to him, the brittle remnants of her voice broke free. “I did something terrible- to you, to our herd.” Fear seeped into the downward flinch of her weak expression. This was so much worse than bringing a grulla Unicorn into their midst. She drew a long breath. “Two Orangemoons ago, I went missing. I broke the rules and ventured into our enemy’s hand.” Africa knew she could not stay to ease the loneliness of a man who was among those she had forsaken (even if it meant the last of the dagger should sink); not without giving him the opportunity to turn her foolish heart, or what had been so unwise in the past, from his sight first.

“The sorrow and regret; this guilt has taxed me for so long, but I can’t carry it any longer. I want to tell you what I have done...”

She reached then, impulsively, and lips fumbled to find an individual feather; to pull it from her lone wing and let it fall away to wreck among the moss and mushroom carpet beneath.

Africa