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The crown, unlike the weight of its metaphor upon her soul, had by then become just another wiry strand of that mottled grey mane which sprouted down the entire length of her arced crest- though catching fleeting glimpses of its resonating, golden beauty whenever she paused to drink; Africa barely remembered it was there. As the other ceased her search (that certainly was what she seemed to be doing after the rather clumsy, inelegant descent of flesh and feather from the tree top), the young dappled mare caught glimpse of the surprise- that which seemed to stir still deeper from the suddenness of her appearance there, in a horse’s coat and tongue.

The stranger staggered a few strides in reverse, and Africa wanted immediately to reach forward, to grasp the rope of disquiet that seemed to have noosed around her throat and reel her back safely. She did not such thing though, having already caused enough mischief to set her quite off side already. Grimacing soft disappointment- her expression never one to hold back the truth of her spiralling thoughts and emotions, the one winged mare held both her jaw clenched against the barrage of words begging for escape, to reason and explain, and her position their where she had come to rest in the churned snow beneath the tree.

Quite inappropriately, no doubt, she began to giggle when the footing of her company was lost during retreat, and the harmless sound grew to echo though the chilly atmosphere around them. The other mare’s face had lowered also, but Africa never associated the gesture with the rank she had only recently come to bare- she was no different in spirit after all; a starry-eyed girl still struggling to breach the wall of maturity. Common sense had been ballooning through recent times, filling her mind with warnings and insight that she might once never have heeded, but as she found her place in the terrible world of Helovia, she was less and less able to just brush off lessons given- certainly those instilled by the deity of both her homeland and her heart.

Africa genuinely saw herself no more spectacularly than she always had- simple, and not nearly so wondrous and respected as those who had been in many ways her mentor.

"Now you’re wet too..." the sound of her amusement began to wane against the prowling breeze, and she missed entirely the purpose of the mare’s grovelling statement. Already she was slipping forward to straighten a feather (twisted perhaps in flight), that had appeared when the wings were lifted to shield the strange pale, unfamiliar face. The action was a natural impulse staining her Pegasus heart, and quickly she resolved the problem. "Are you alright? Honestly, I didn’t mean to startle you with the bark. I suppose I got a little carried away... a parrot can get away with naughtiness a horse could not, you know." She shrugged, her softly spoken and gentle words still tinged with remorse, but there was really little more she could offer to rekindle any favour in their meeting than that already given.

Africa