She fled to the island again. It was a sanctuary, a harbour where stressed and torn souls could retire; where the weight of the world seemed to lift from their shoulders, if only for the duration of their stay.

Perhaps it was her personality, so easily swayed by the turmoil in her life, a cushion crushed so quickly by the careless tread of those around her. The Wildfire had returned to the Throat, and with his return came an insatiable guilt – because she knew deep within – that either she or Sohalia would soon be relieved of her crown. It was only right, he was a marvellous creature, proud, spiritual and strong, and though she knew not the most recent of his afflictions, the Starry-Eyed was convinced that one purpose drove him home. She loved her place in the herd, though timid and without the confidence of her predecessors, the one-winged had immersed herself tirelessly in the duty bestowed by the God of the Sun, all for the sake of her family.

That responsibility though, could be just as quickly reversed. She knew that such a fate was beyond her control.

For many days she had avoided prayer – she was terrified to learn His preference in leaders, Africa knew she her existence was meagre in comparison to Gaucho’s. She had avoided her friends and she stayed hidden from her family. Perhaps she was subconsciously trying to delay the inevitable. Why are you so concerned? Silas asked often, purring as he preened thistles from her naked coat in a show of affectionate support, and really, she couldn’t find an answer. Was it that she feared failing those she cared so much for? Or was it because she felt like at last they were growing, a labour of her love? Maybe it was that and more. The time was coming quickly nevertheless, when she would need to confront the Wildfire – when the destiny of the Throat’s leadership would be revealed.

She walked quickly, buried beneath plaguing thoughts, but wearing all the same a careful smile so that her mood could be concealed. The bright hum of activity lifted through the atmosphere above the village, and she gazed down at it with lips fastened tightly around a despairing breath. Let us forget everything today, she suggested, lifting her skull high as though to break past the blanket of stress upon her. Silas clucked quietly as he rested upon the slope of her back, agreeing, but aware all the same that it was only she who could achieve that.

But as the one-winged mare stepped forward, there was a flicker of movement nearby, a shadow trudging up the valley– away from the celebration. “Wind?” she whispered, barely loud enough for even her own ears to hear. For the moment she waited frozen, paralysed by a confusion of fear and relief, pale creamy eyes fixed to the downtrodden creature as he continued towards her.