For a long while Africa lay listlessly beneath her steadfast companion’s tender embrace.

She knew not that he was truly there though and lonely delusions of a future without his grace were the first to pass through her numbing mind; shame fuelled them and her heart thundered frightened remorse. The tarnished silver path to ruin looked bleak and the snow still fell heavily all around, but it seemed to fit her flawlessly. Prints of those who had failed along before her slipped snugly around each sinking step she took, and sorrowful eyes, red-stained behind glass, gazed longingly to the smouldering face of the sun for forgiveness. She tried to turn, to retreat the way she had come, except mirrored maze walls had been raised all around her. There was no escape for the wicked and when she cried out imploringly to any that might be near - Help me! Help me, Silas! ...all that answered was the shallow echo of her own despair.

I should just give in? She begged wretchedly, is this the end?

But the metal across which she dithered hardened suddenly so that her hooves no longer fitted into its surface. The mirror came alive; figures of those who had passed through her life materialised one by one as the walls below inched nearer. Her mother, father, bones perhaps bleached now on the rocky tors of distant Nyorm, and Emelda was ever smiling down upon her with whispering lips, a message lost to the pound of Africa’s fragile heart. Mother, are you not mad? ...but those wise old eyes were fading too quickly as another strengthened in their stead. It was a Basilisk, the raving creature from the woods, and whiskers trembled as she remembered the egg which had been abandoned – the result of cruel manipulation, the very first treason maybe, of a pure hearted girl.

I’m sorry... She was sobbing, stricken with grief as she watched what could only be a portrayal of how very quickly her soul had spoiled. Tears streamed from burning eyes, yet as her skull sank she found only pools of crimson blood in the pristine snow. She gasped and jumped back, thighs colliding with the frigid surface of isolation. No! Shrill and panicked, the one-winged’s voice resonated deafeningly around her prison, and the cunning grin of a girl she had once followed to death’s doorstep now beamed vindictively down upon her. It was a memory purged already, laid out like filthy laundry; forgiven, forgotten, and the moon-white Unicorn vanished forever more.

The air in that tiny mirrored room began to warm unexpectedly and mist no longer plumed from her flared nostrils; Africa pulled in a deep breath and her lungs did not burn! What is... she began to question, but before there was not any time to consider as the room began to turn around her. First feathers still blacker than night began whirl and she felt dizzy, nauseous, where she stood in the centre, teetering across trembling knees; then pale ones joined and with them gold, all together dancing to the tune of a wind she could not hear nor feel. She felt weightlessness, and her memory of all that had played out seemed so distant. Africa realised that she could no longer feel the hard floor beneath her hooves - there were no longer any walls locked around her!

Cream-toned eyes burst open and shining black pupils pinned cautiously.

The world had changed (she thought initially). The snow had melted and Tallsun’s warmth embraced her – everything nearby seemed touched by the burning globe... It had all been a dream! A heavy blanket lay across her body and she struggled for a moment beneath its weight before sliding free and stretching her wings upwards and outwards. It had not been the soundest rest, nor as long as probably needed, but she felt all the better. It was when Silas’ hooked beak found her feathers to preen that she suddenly realised her error – where was she? A surge of adrenaline and Africa felt the need to shape-shift, though it took less of her this time, and in only seconds she had morphed back into the body of a one-winged mare. She still looked gaunt and unwell, but a flickering flame of hope had ignited within.

The faintest of smiles curled tenderly her lips when she recognized her company - Midas, Silas, Fina and perhaps their cousin who she regarded curiously but silently. She thought the stallion to still be sleeping and so settled for a small time across lean, quivering legs by the wall of the humid cavern (she could not have known the true reason for its existence), and began to hum softly, maybe even wishing to lull them all back to life.