Beneath a mist-grey mask, Africa’s skin flushed red with burning embarrassment. “Goodness I’m sorry. Yes come in out of the rain.” Ears flickered uncertainly beneath their concealment of curling flame, and the one-winged was both impressed and put off by the other mare, December’s, fresh air of apparently collected, confidence. Dark knees clicked beneath her writing weight, and fire whirled above sudden jerking movement as she shuffled promptly aside to make space enough for the larger, sodden horse in her humble abode. Who was she to deny shelter in a herd she barely knew? With wings ajar to balance, Silas rode skilfully his manoeuvring bonded, but never did his cynical, violet eyes part from the brash (in his subjective opinion), pallid mare.

December shook in turn the excess rain from her pelt, and though the Starry-Eyed was not altogether spared the shower, she smiled thoughtfully and said nothing about it. As steel-grey eyes slipped from his beloved’s sickly form and rose to find him perched between her pointed hips, the star-glittered zephyr narrowed his gaze warily in response, keen to learn what threat she posed – even despite all lack of the same apprehension in the dapple grey’s mind. Silence hung about the two mares and it did naught to ease his soured mood. There were beings in Helovia who the mythical avian trusted; and less still apart from Africa, that he cared for. He thought little of her race, of the horned ones and those like this rain-soaked one; they were a vindictive, selfish, power-hungry kind of creature who he disliked immensely. Silas felt it was his born duty to defend her from them; his beloved was a vulnerable, kind-hearted soul in contrast, and seldom forgave transgression.

Caution rumbled deep within his sleek, black-feathered chest.

At last the other mare spoke, and Africa’s shy outlook brightened as her long, slim skull bounced to life; almost startled as the silence was shattered. A soft chortle slithered past lips rising to smile, and the one-winged craned her flaming crest to view the zephyr. “Forgive me, this is Silas.” Although he could not understand the tongue being used, his bonded’s warm affection surrounding his mention was unmistakable- still clacked his beak aloofly and hunched beneath his coat of gleaming obsidian plumage. “He is a Roc, a night zephyr. His kin are an elusive, mythical type of bird, seen rarely and spoken about mainly as legend. Yes, we are bonded, companions, like you say...” The Starry-Eyed grinned tenderly before she turned her focus away from Silas and back to December.

“Are you new to Helovia?” she asked then curiously, presuming that her naivety was a result of that. Ordinarily she met such folk in the Threshold, but it had been many, many months since her last visit to the old pine forest- and that had been a journey from the deep south, not Hidden Falls.