Lost beneath a haze of thoughts and swarming worries, she who was still the unlikely ruler of this once powerful region, did not notice the slip of familiar hooves descending the warm banks to grace the edge of the Throat’s cool, lapping waters. Africa held not the concentration of a warrior, nor nerves of steel or strapping strength to face against the flooding concerns as they pooled within her tender mind. An intelligent creature- one whose life path was paved and secure and not swayed by the changing winds, might have been out rebuilding the empire which still seemed so helplessly to lay at her lax feet. But the young heart was lonely and burdened, aching for the loss of friends who had on so many occasions been both like a rock foundation for her to grow upon, and a guiding light for her to follow. Now, she was alone and quite vulnerable as the insecurities within nipped hungrily at her confidence.

Always she reminded herself that understanding well above and beyond her own mortal reasoning had seen some presence in her that was worthy of the responsibility she now shouldered. It had not been a decision made personally, but by the patron of this sunburnt country who was both all knowing and all seeing. Nostrils rattled a dismal sigh as the taught dappled skin canvassing her lean, but well built body flinched beneath the bite of teeming flies. They fussed relentlessly about the crusts which had formed by the corners of glazed eyes and bothered aggravatingly the fine, sparse whiskers dressing her muzzle. Again she shooed them, tossing briskly her pale face to dislodge their ravenous feeding. Like a sweeping curtain before her eyes, the thick grey forelock snagged behind an ear fell to shield her refocusing creamy gaze.

Africa slowly cast her eyes around the great lake which was truly their lifeblood. Many had gathered through the course of the afternoon, seeking respite she presumed lazily, beneath the dappled shade proffered by ribbon-like palm leaves and the few lush trees who had been daring enough to set their roots so far south of the mainland. Despite the humidity, thick and choking while the air held so still, the oasis was indeed a harbor of luxury and cool relaxation. As she ventured left, legs unmoving all the while, to view that side of her, the one-winged mare noticed quickly the contrasting figure of an old acquaintance- a friend she still boldly believed. It had been many weeks since the meeting she had chaired with Ampere (a whole season in fact), and she felt the weight of guilt set within her weary chest for she had failed to find Voodoo afterwards.

He seemed to be making his way towards the Throat, companion at foot panting against the wrath of the impending Tallsun. Africa felt for the creature as she watched them near; her coat appeared thicker than any native desert dweller and from what she understood of her kind, of foxes in general, they were better suited to forests and the like. Turning quietly upon grinding knees, she offered the well-grown, attractive stallion a kind of sheepish smile. “Voodoo, how are you?” Gingerly her softly gaze roamed across the smaller animal whose name she still did not know. The mare wished not to interrupt their journey should thirst have parched their tongues already, and moved not to block their path.