The leafy, pretty grove was alive with the chatter of birdlife, simple, cheerful creatures celebrating the last hours of light, and their mood was a stark contrast to the sober feeling plaguing the lone mare who trekked backwards and forwards below. She listened of course, pausing occasionally to gaze upwards, to see if she could find them – to prove their authenticity, and perhaps find her own thoughts hushed for a small while. It was during one such pause that she realised how serious her world had become; how she had been so infected by the woes around her, and had forgotten to appreciate the simpler gifts there right beneath her nose.

Many nights she had spent during the first year of her Helovian life buried beneath vast forest canopies, tasting mushrooms and collecting the velvet roots of elusive ferns to dine on – delicacies that she had really, all but forgotten about. She remembered the Twix she and Silas had startled in the Threshold; it was the first time she had seen one, and the Basilisk and the pigeons, and the invigorating late summer ocean.

Africa sighed deeply, stepping forward along the same trail, but with a little less tension driving each hoof forward. Where had her youth gone? That quiet spirit that saw only a rose-coloured world, and deflected the strain of events beyond her control. When had the furrow etched so gravely through her expression? The suddenness of the thought compelled a smile to pull free grey lips of their frown, and she felt a little better again. Long charcoal ears lifted from their bed of licking flames, and shoulders rolled as she smoothed along; the warble of the birds intensifying the more she concentrated.

The flutter of wings however, and the prick of raptor talons against the skin swathing her rump drew her attention quickly though, and as she turned, she found the tattooed stallion approaching. The Starry-Eyed smiled softly, coyly, like always she did in his company, and she extended a quivering nose towards him as he spoke tenderly. Even despite her many reservations, he seemed so easily to lull her, to fill her with inexplicable giddiness. “Do you remember Gaucho the Wildfire?” She asked quietly, her voice glum and flat, “...He led Dragon’s Throat before the Darkness, with the Gallant. Well he’s home, and I don’t really know where that leaves me.” Africa knew not that her sister and fellow Sultana, Sohalia was courting the stallion – she presumed that either of their futures could have been on the brink...

She stood apart from him, front on, and rocked her weight left to rest a back hoof jadedly. The one-winged mare was spent, both emotionally and physically.

salsolastock | uplifting-stock | two-ladies-stocks
foxyfirewings & larfsalot @deviantart