It was agreed that they would travel north together- and though she was quick to conceal the tide of relief which flooded through her core, the vulnerable young creature was glad for the prospect of company nonetheless. The darkness above was unsettling; danger loomed without the need for cover, and tireless wraiths guided its hungry relentless fog towards the very scent of life itself. Regardless of her new found ability to fly, Windwalker’s presence would offer a certain level of protection while she searched for those unsuspecting wanderers, new perhaps, to Helovia and the madness encompassing it- and should his word be worth believing, his company would be welcome. Silas croaked objectionably, not nearly as impressed with the outspoken stallion’s apology; nor that he had been invited so freely to join their next mission.

She giggled coolly when he laughed, appreciating both the need for a lighter atmosphere and the fact that he felt comfortable enough to entertain; deliberate or not. "Yes, I suppose you’re right." If nothing else, the humour felled that prickly forest which seemed to strangle the ease which had once been shared between them. Her posture changed; the lines of distress smoothed mildly, and the ridged readiness (should she need to whisk from his company), softened quite dramatically. Africa smiled gently, bright eyes peering quietly across at him and shrugged. She didn’t want him to feel obliged to join if other responsibilities called for his time; but it was not up to her to manage that aspect of his life. The dappled mare could see too that the trouble had dissolved a little from his shadowy gaze as well.

Ignoring the urge to reach and brush her tapered storm-grey maw against the familiar warmth of him, Africa shook lightly the feathered wing which had relaxed to her right side, and afterwards flexed the remaining tension from each of her long, slender legs in turn without lifting them from the damp rock floor. "I hope you aren’t too weary." She crooned thoughtfully, noting the slick sweat darkening a coat as sinister as the moonless nights of the cold season. Because he had already slipped to the side of her path, she moved forward; careful always to mind the places beneath which were slick with mud, slush or that tiny, deceptive trickle of melting snow from above. The frigid wind as she crept watchfully by the guards and out into the Heart’s barren landscape, hit her like a wall of unforgiving ice. Her lungs reeled as the chill was sucked into their midst, and she coughed involuntarily before turning to find her friend through a bothered squint. "My…" The soft note of her voice wrestled feebly with the moaning weather, "Was it snowing through your return? I’m not too fond of Frostfall." Actually, Africa was not too fond of anything similar to Aurora Basin; horns, winter, aggression…

[Note: …to be continued, here.]