Although no trace of the Helovian New Year had been felt where both herds and wild hearts mingled as one beneath the Heart of the country, a few unexpected happenings had spurred a change of heart in the mare who had thought so conclusively, that she could not be happy again. Certainly her expression still lacked the optimism which had radiated all through her youth- that was truly gone; the innocence of a pure hearted fool had been lost to the churn of untrained emotion and the callous touch of unruly suitors. The admission of her trespassing had been trusted to Midas; for now that pressure had been lifted well clear of her shoulders, and she could breathe without the wheeze of a guilt riddled conscience. Not yet had the pain of that experienced numbed away- perhaps it never would while the scar stood raw across the empty, wingless socket.

Now she faced mainly the struggles born to an adolescent stepping into the confusingly hostile code of an adult world- sentiments and longings hardly comparable to those silly crushes and fantastic infatuations that swept through a young being at the breath of any other. She could not understand why so many in recent times had been lulled closer by the compassionate touch she so freely offered; it had never been so drastic before. Many had taken advantage of her mild nature and willing heart; she had been hurt and betrayed, and though the lance of each wound still marked her mind, she had ultimately risen above the dejection to claim her right among the mature creatures of the world.

The gentle click of careful hooves resonated only slightly as she passed through one of the narrowest parts of the cave; she was ascending towards The Sanctuary, the last room before stepping into the diseased world outside. So many months she thought had passed, and the unnaturalness of her new home; the confined space and uncomfortably close proximity to so many strangers (any of which could have been refugees from the Basin), had become something unspectacular. This all had become another phase of an inconsistent life; an existence with little direction and less purpose. Warm firelight flickered across the cold dark plane of wall as it curved loosely about her dappled, muddy grey body. The gift given to her kin, the Dragon’s Throat herd had not dwindled like it had the others. Her mane blazed fiercely, harmlessly; and so too did the glorious length of her crimson and black tail smoulder- that was all that remained of the God of the Sun’s rich element upon her.

Other aspects of her character were warping also; though the magic properties therein were still developing- growing in her mind.

Africa had an entirely different focus to that which had consumed her many weeks ago. The grey had not seen or heard from the wingless stallion whose twisted personality had brought her crashing to her knees with despair and guilt, for a long time and now the bitterness left like bruises upon her soul were fading. Though perhaps she would care for him eternally (he had stood strangely close to her heart- a friend that could not control his feelings; but an dear one all the same), she had learned to push his memory far to the back of her mind. New company had been found, many who sought from her that which she needed from them, and Naveen was indeed the best of them. So too had Midas recently warmed her heart; an sentiment that had not been expected- but the history they shared formed sound foundations that seemed, even the worst of treasons (Africa had thought of them to be such) could not fracture their understanding; their friendship.

A cold breeze greeted her as she paused by the gaping doorway into the chamber. To the left, the smaller fissure which lead through to her only connection to the Sun God lay; the soft waltz of lamp-light beyond beckoning her closer. That was not the reason she had come however. Not this time. Africa’s fine coat prickled as Frostfall’s unkind breath filtered down upon her, moaning wickedly as it crept through the corridor to the Heart; wailing the misery of a decaying world to all who the magical cave-system harboured. She drew a long breath and lungs purged angrily the burning chill from their midst, forcing her to cough and turn from the harassment of the air. It was humid beneath the earth- a magical ecosystem which reflected life more fragile and beautiful than anything any mortal had laid their eyes upon above. There was no reason for coats to thicken, or stomachs to ache;

The Sanctuary was a stone prison; a heavenly one.

Few lingered in in these higher quarters; apparently the sensible cared little for the extremities they had once been so exposed too. Only sentinels- Spears, and others affiliated (like herself) to the resistance mulled quietly, and as she moved to pass them, shuffled with eloquent steps closer to the entrance, Africa offered the couple who she recognized to be her own kin, humble smiles. It was time though, with the renewed ability to fly, she and Silas had risen to the task of greeting the Threshold wanderers and bringing them home to safety. She paused though firstly, and stretched the fatigue from each limb there beneath the low-lit protection of the ceiling.