The defiant expression riddled through the familiar black stallion’s once demure back features, held steady despite the taunting rebuke which unsettled easily Africa’s still squirming stomach. She had not expected Windwalker to brave the cheek of the other mare’s tongue so stoically, and even while her own heart lurched to rest in the base of her gulping throat, he seemed to stand there unaffected entirely. That throbbing organ sank back almost as suddenly, and her ears too drove backwards as her once friend’s focus returned to the thick shroud of shadowing she hid beneath. The gaze gleaming with aversion beneath the spangled canopy was like a knife through her conscience.

He spoke- callous words driving forward to shatter Africa’s brittle reasoning; any resolve fraying beneath the puddled shell of her hide. Her heart had not so much been broken; it had been wounded by a cruel tongue and a mind which had lulled her insecurity and fragile spirit into some perverted manner of trust. She had never given her heart away, no other’s grip had ever been snug around it’s hot pulse- and now, no desire to do so swelled any longer through her core.

Windwalker’s teeth snapped together viciously as his voice fell short; unwilling perhaps to feed them anymore of that hate searing his mind. The other mare who stood now beside the silent Unicorn, gnashed blunt ivories Before he whirled away from the group, Africa’s bewildered gaze was snagged by the sweep of his hollow eyes. A sadness filled her own; grief fuelled by the brutal loss of a friend which had seemed so sincere- though had not Aurelia seemed so darling also. Perhaps the dappled fool was just numb to the signs undoubtedly shed by those ill-meaning fiends throughout Helovia; certainly it seemed she was a sucker for their punishing behaviour. The wingless black removed himself then, passing bitterly out through the corridor that his wrath had previously descended upon them through. Africa’s held breath released slowly, not for the sake of relief by any means... Her heart’s thrash did not ease.

The soft pull of the other mare’s nicker drew creamy eyes from the black entrance to the room, and soon the other’s nose sought her location through the veil of Africa’s clever concealment. It bumped with the tender grace of another female; a touch that was quite dissimilar to even the daintiest of affectionate male caresses. The dappled mare was drawn to its warmth and compassion- she had few friends of her own gender, and perhaps that was part the reason emptiness now hollowed out her soul so terribly. She had never been overly particular about who she thrust her care upon; foal, man or woman; always, Africa had given herself freely and that had been her ultimate unravelling.

She would not be so forthcoming anymore…

The Zephyr glowing above grumbled protectively as the two noses touched; he cared not for the unkind ways of her kind, and found more and more frequently that those they crossed paths with were unpredictable and wild. Even before himself, his beloved was the primary focus of his care and concern.

Africa’s own name peeled through the silence which had fallen rapidly upon them in the absence of the thuggish stallion. Long ears rushed forwards to meet the astonished tone of the feminine voice, and quickly the name to follow rang a chord of familiarity through her mind. Indeed they had met by the flank of the Foothills- and so too had she seen Ciceron down here recently. A stark, rare wave of happiness flashed through the gaze of her eyes. It seemed many of those who had once warmed her heart had found their safety in The Sanctuary. She was glad, but still too bruised to bear the brunt of that openly.

The brown and white mare extended her nose again; the same innocent generosity therein which had been the forefront of Africa’s character for all the years she now looked back scornfully upon- she had been nothing but a starry-eyed fool. The gesture was withdrawn quickly though, and an apology offered for which the dappled Pegasus was unsure. Abisha turned after requesting tenderly that she follow, and Africa followed silently towards the eerily hued stallion- not altogether sold on his placidness. With mild reluctance (purely for the sake of his gender), she offered a modest nod and retired jadedly to stand against the comforting warmth of the younger mare’s coffee-brown thigh.

Slaiter was a name she had not before come across. Regardless, Abisha’s cool confidence offered her sudden solace, and bathing in the protective glower of her bonded, Africa felt the writhing tension begin to dissipate slowly from her fraught frame.

Africa