She listened as he spoke, perhaps more closely than she might to any other. Long, eager ears were turned to the sound of his rich voice, the accent born by his tongue one she never tired from hearing, and glistening eyes were lain with part-masked affection upon his enigmatic ebony features. The Gallant smiled delicately, and it warmed the dappled mare through.

So many times in recent years one or the other had been crippled by grief, and it was heartening to learn that his soul was perhaps mending – she knew that the spirit was easily shaken, broken, but not so repaired. Her thin grey lips mirrored the smile thoughtfully, and beneath the haze of pale-grey, skin bloomed blush pink and chin dipped demurely nearer to her chest. It was not so much the suggestion of compliments, of fair company’s effect, but that she too had found some solace, and also imagined it to be a reflection of the stallion (and his herd’s) benevolence.

Midas spoke on and Africa listened quietly, contentedly, heart’s pace quickening at the mention of his Lord and the patron of their home. Perhaps it was nervous tension – a residue guilt that just could not be shaken for all glory bestowed that she had seemingly turned her back on. There would come a time when the feeble fire-follower would seek refuge in the bosom of her Father, but for now she needed to rest and heal both mentally and physically, so that she might never again waver in her faith.

Pearly eyes fell open, shock, delight a mounting combination of both pooling through their midst. There had been a time once, long ago, when the art of healing had been one she aspired to pursue. As the time dragged on however, her path had been distracted and her eyes blinded – sense sullied. The Starry-Eyed had trailed off hopelessly in a direction that was no better suited to her than a life spent swimming without fins, and naturally, she had drowned. The Gallant’s words, the rise of a teasing smirk, perhaps didn’t sink in quite as quickly as was needed.

She stood for a moment longer as though suspended in paused time, just gazing, glazing. "It would be an honour." She coughed at last, kind smile rising through disbelief. She was humbled that enough trust was felt towards her by the God of the Earth, by Midas, that she might be given such a chance.

Perhaps her life had turned around at last.

Africa