Ever the braver of the two, Silas battled the rush of wind and flurries of snow with unfaltering resolve. His claws gripped delicately yet fiercely around the folded feather wings of the parrot, and in that moment it looked rather like a predator had captured his bounty to stash. The tart, purple-blue berries brought back for the mare, lay scattered through the snow, discarded and already part frozen; at least his stomach had been filled – pray, he needed every strength to clash with her most stubborn character. For now though her thoughts lay dormant.

There was movement along the back of the stallion though even the keenest violet eye could barely determine its source - another avian perhaps yet to fledge, whose ashen quills melted brilliantly into the storm and the white bed across which she shuffled. Silas was not so obscure. Bright black he shone, with glitter cascading the length of curling, ornate tail-feathers; from wing tip to wing tip, as brazen as his endeavour. Then the voice of the stallion sang out above the gale in tongue the zephyr could not understand... But moments before, as the Roc had returned again with the small helping of fruit, the plan had slipped fortunately from Africa’s weary mind to his.

The muffled chirp of the smaller zephyr pricked hidden ears, and he followed it cunningly nearer before delivering his fallen bonded onto the Gallant’s back. Like a broody hen he nestled down over her and fanned the downy feathers along his breast and belly so that warmth could be transferred and protection might be given. Quickly he made sense of the unfamiliar rhythm of the stallion’s trudging gait, though nesting amid feather and fur, there seemed little chance of a fall.

The silhouette of the cliffs only once before viewed grew ahead, and Fina swept down like a warm, firelight beacon. He clucked fondly, gratefully to her before watchful eyes switched to the icy bird beyond. Her unfamiliar song filled the space along Midas’ spine which they shared, and he cast a curious glance back to the phoenix. All thought of the unlikely sisters – fire and ice – was cast aside though as their ride began up the stairway which would lead into the well masked region. His talons tightened their hold, surprised, but released almost as quickly so as not to wound the warm pelt beneath.

And then they were gliding; slipping finally beneath stone not unlike the winding corridors which had kept them safe from the darkness months earlier. It was a blessing to be rid of the snow, and though Silas might have preferred to stay nestled against the warmth and security of the stallion, he lifted across skinny, scaly grey legs and took with him the body of the sleeping parrot, to the floor – he would not have burdened her saviour or his fair company any longer. It was a gracious gesture that she had given up her bed for their journey, and he returned it at last with a soft murmur and risen crest.

He placed Africa carefully against the cold soil before settling again to roost across her. Beneath his chest, she stirred as tender heat was lost but did not yet wake.