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A long charcoal ear slipped conscientiously towards the side the horned mare followed upon, and there it listened, soaking up the weary tone of the other with dutiful, unwearying interest. Africa held not a heavy hand over those she came across; her method was quiet and thoughtful, perhaps unlike any of those who had taken their place before the God of the Sun before her. She had been born neither to drive forward courage and conviction into the perils of war; nor did she possess the strength at all to hold her own against those who had. The dapple-grey brought an air of grace and humility into a land famed for all of the qualities she failed to wield. And so she listened intently to Sikeax, both patience and sympathy spilling with the shining flecks of sweat across her warm hide. There was no creature who lived between the dunes of the desert, who she did not sport enormous care for- whether they shared that consideration or not.

The softly coloured girl revealed quickly that the trauma of their underground stay (for many it had been so awful), lay not among those recollections still available. Africa’s sandy eyes wandered across their path, lashes narrowing across their concentrated stare as she thought back to what she had been doing before the descent and eventual disintegration of that herd they had known. Her own memories came swiftly, fortunately- they had lifted the patron of Dragon’s Throat at last to sit upon the pedestal he was owed; Midas and Gaucho had brought them all to meet beneath the limestone waves of red and white. Those formations were now lost with the great beginnings of their wall- now buried beneath the churn of wild ocean currents.

The one-winged mare imagined then that Sikeax’s restless legs had been the reason for her absence from that meeting- many had not attended.

Still she waited, holding comfortably the confident silence which had assumed the place of once reckless, outspoken youthfulness. Many things were explained that meshed together with the rumours echoed between cave walls. This sorry soul was not the only one to witness such horrors first hand, and the Marsh had not been the last to craft them. Africa remembered too the revolting ghoul, the half decayed wraith which had swept upon a conversation between Windwalker and herself so long ago now- it had happened not far from where she was guiding Sikeax in fact. Both had been spared their lives thankfully, but the event had haunted her slumber for many weeks following.

That had been only the beginning of the darkness...

As her company’s words faded, the story lingered between them; mystery and confusion filling the void of silence. Africa glanced ahead and was glad to see the streamer like tips of bright green palms flitting playfully against the stroke of the warm wind. Suspicion was not a sentiment that came quickly or easily to overwhelm the romantic mind of the grey- she had been called a fool before by many for the measure of her trust, and for now she could find only grief for the sake of the girl’s lost mind.

They paused, even before Africa’s thoughts on all spoken had begun to form sentences across her parched tongue, and Sikeax asked a rather strange thing; a favour, she thought, though perhaps the most unusual she had known. Certainly she thought it to be neither rude nor bothersome; crude faces fitting both descriptions flashed briefly before her eyes, but the champagne filly still was not among them. Rattling nostrils returned to brush the tattered coat of the other that could be reached. "If you wish Sikeax," she answered softly, kindly- naturally. "Will you be staying with us? I must ask... Dragon’s Throat has been your home, and will continue to be so, if that is your hope." The question was fair, curious. Strange times surrounded them, and the behaviour of some Helovians had become queer enough to stir plaguing doubt through the herd- and afar. Neither Africa nor Ampere were fool enough to presume their humble house safe from such wickedness and all minds had been forced open for the sake of their preservation.

She waited just beyond the welcoming aroma of the oasis; just clear of its dancing embrace. They would delve further to seek out Sikeax’s missing memories, and bathe together, only when the younger’s loyalty had been established.