Mauja wasn't the only one woken by the sudden ruckus. When the shrill sound of a shouting voice erupted in the cavern that normally only listened to the murmur of water and hushed voices drifting back and forth between the fungi-clad walls Kari too was startled out of his sleep. Disoriented and still half stuck in a restless nightmare the foal bounced up on his feet and staggered out from under the vine-covered tree where he had been resting, wild-eyed and with the pale, fuzzy tail-hair on edge. Seeing only adults littering the floor of the verdant room, one of which he recognized after their previous rendezvous in the labyrinth of caves and pathways, the young hybrid wobbled over to them on cloven feet and looked up, anxiously peering between them as they towered over hi. Sensing tension in the air like children often do, he wasn't sure that it would be a good idea to speak at all - but like most boys Kari possessed a daredevil streak that made his quest to sate curiosity far over-weigh the possibility of a telling off.

"Did something happen?" he asked and squinted the eyes in worry as he looked at the owner of the loud voice, a tall, fierce looking mare. She was a pegasus like his mom, he noticed, and almost as black - though rather than being stocky and tough as dry roots this lady looked thinner and more intense, like a storm cloud just before lightning struck. In the florescent light that emanated from the leaves of the underground plants the blue markings on her face and wings seemed to glow - an eerie sight that made the colt inch slightly closer to the more familiar frame of the white stallion.

"War... Is there a war coming?" he repeated, tasting the word without picking up the nuance of the word that suggested it being an abbreviation for something else entirely.

Normally the boy might have been able to pick out more from the spoken words. He was smart for his age with a mind that was over-developed, too used to pick out details and piece together concepts from the visions and conversations that flooded his mind from the surroundings. But he was tired, the mind beneath that curling forelock fogged with haunting images of rotting creatures chasing him through dark caves... so for once he sounded just as young as he was, a tiny foal speaking out of turn in a gathering where he probably didn't even belong. Perhaps, if he had spotted Africa things would have turned out differently - but as it was his attention was too locked on the exchange of words to pay much attention to other horses.


I see your true colors