There was no cycle of time below the earth. Only the shimmer of lava lanterns and glowing mushrooms seeped light through the tunnels and correlating rooms; no sunlight danced with the white wash of the moon; night and day had become one. The stone trail which led upwards towards The Sanctuary from the depths had become a major thoroughfare; the damp smoothness of the passageway had been soiled by the relentless traipse of those coming and going; wandering with hopeless direction, around and around- never wanting to risk their lives to those undead monsters who hungered above. The herd’s mighty structure had been lost, and so too had the division of purpose between those neighbouring the Throat. All bodies now lived together, huddled like cowering lambs as darkness filled their territories, sweeping ferociously to devour all that once was familiar. The caves were crammed with an engorged population who had been required to set all differences aside for the sake of their survival.

A light breeze wafted down through The Sanctuary’s gaping mouth. It was sour; acidic, though the crispness of snowfall was ripe upon its delicate breath. Africa inhaled deeply, curiously, filling her lungs with the strangeness of that air. With no resolution to the Darkness in sight, she was saddened to think it would be the second Frostfall spent away from the desert; so far from the luxuries of home and the comfort of family. She couldn’t help but wonder too, if that was some subliminal pain stirring in her midst; amassing with the blanket of burden which rested so wearingly upon her frail shoulders. Sighing pensively, she continued forward, soft footfalls making little sound to betray her climb. The one-winged mare had not visited The Wall of History for what she could only presume to be months (really, only two or so weeks had passed since her encounter with the white shouldered stallion), and she felt increasingly the nag of guilt pulling her to pay respects to her Lord.

Although the warmth which had flickered so fondly in her heart had mostly dissolved into a cool blackened void (ranks once held had also been lost when each herd fled to this underground world), Africa felt obliged all the same to worship he who had had been so merciful and generous to those bedding in his land. She could not forget the parting warning he had given- that which had forced this wretched change; though for the better it had been of course, and while still the dissatisfaction which had leaked through his expression still soiled the damaged creature’s confidence, Africa knew easily where her loyalties did lie. She entered the first room of their refuge with baited breath and a clenched jaw, hoping desperately that few would lurk there. More than anything, she prayed that Windwalker was not nearby; toying with his new found arrogance and flaunting himself crudely upon some unsuspecting woman- far, far away.

Discreetly, and with the hood of her flimsy silk cloak’s hood draped secretively about her slim pale face, the dappled creature slipped her body snugly against the cool hardness of the wall and around towards where the entrance to her Wall waited. As she passed warily by, pale beige-tinted eyes noted few others around- a change, given that normally countless corpses gathered in vain hope just short of their former lives; where the Heart of Helovia beckoned them from the pit of safety. The soft murmur of relief rattled flaccid nostrils, and she hastened (though not beyond a calculated walk), into the chamber whose walls seemed instantly roused to life; their glowing etchings and crude portrayals of a time long ago, welcoming their regular visitor warmly. The faint trace of a smile curled the corners of her wrinkled, whiskered mouth, and Africa reached to touch one picture- a stallion with two horns, and wings which seemed engulfed by radiant fire.

"Father; forgive me for not coming again sooner."

Africa