Threat.

...perhaps that might have seemed a little harsh. Africa felt weight akin to concrete sink through her stomach, and she shifted uncomfortably across twitching legs. It seemed all at once that the transparency of her bitter distrust had been quite a spectacle- poor Aurelia, no matter how foolish or immature her behaviour, was overcome with a glaze of bewilderment and said quickly, "I would never disrespect your home." The one-winged wanted to extend her quivering nose, I want believe you; but withheld the gesture and stood firm against the sternness of her caution. Quickly the other began again, and the confusion laced her words like night-frost over grass. "I have never been a threat to this herd, and I never will be a threat. I am will not do anything to threaten you, this land, this herd, nor anyone allied with these lands."

She thought suddenly of her own treachery, that which she had paid dearly for- the one which Midas had both forgiven and comforted her for. Africa remembered the day atop the beach-side cliff, when the God of the Earth roused the waves into chorus and the tree line to waltz. Aurelia had been there, wounded, but the pang of the younger’s crude rejection had been as raw, as toxic, as a wolf-bite. She was a kindly heart it was true, but she was no more susceptible to hurt and infidelity than any other around them. The golden-flaked mare had left a scar upon the Starry-Eyed’s frail, impressionable mind. With some grimness remaining, Africa nodded- fully appreciating the apparent sincerity of the pledge. She had set the timeframe, and given the chance, the proof, she would happily take it away.

Rasta stood all the while in relative silence. The petite palomino was pressed close against the flinching flank of the one-winged, and Africa was more than grateful for the show of steadfast support; a reason to not crumble back into her own miserable pool of obligation and insecurity.

Aurelia asked suddenly, brashly, "...what position are you?" and the grey bristled agitatedly. Pale eyes stiffened as they sought the other’s tear-stained, golden eyes; be calm. She drew a long breath and held it, pulling her narrowing gaze towards the clear blue heavens above. The girl continued, "I do not know if this is of any use to you, but I wanted to tell you Gaucho was back, but he doesn't remember anything." Lungs purged the breath at last. “That is useful information...” she answered without delay, avoiding the first question asked. “Thank you.” Naturally Africa wondered where he had been between the final days in the Sancturay, and now. She was curious about his return to Helovia, but more so about the reason he’d not come home. Like with the absence of Midas, Dragon’s Throat had a great void in its midst- especially the army.

Again Rasta rescued the situation, dissolving the tension which seemed always to linger about the estranged friends, sisters like Africa had called them a long time ago, asking gracefully, "Where would you wish for this burial to happen?" and also, if she would join them, for some memorial perhaps- the Starry-Eyed was none familiar with death and the respects owed consequently. “I will, Rasta.” She answered with recovering tenderness, offering Aurelia condolence through a dipped skull and sombre half- smile.