Beneath the tangle of thick grey mane and the wild, rolling dance of golden-red fire, wavering ears stilled to listen and leaned nearer to the pallid, fallen mare as she began to speak in fractured sentences. Naturally concern swept through Africa’s compassionate soul and her sensitive expression quickly reflected that feeling. Pale sandy eyes narrowed critically, although only for her own blundering blindness and not that of her friend. Why had vigilance and care not entered her head? Why had she not heeded more closely the very obvious need of her friend? The past was behind her however, and she had learned bitterly to not dwell on matters beyond her influence – turning thoughts over and over was a corrosive habit.

Rasta’s tale stirred memory of wraiths, rotted and revolting, from the recesses of her mind, and beneath a wince, the one-winged mare pressed lovingly her lips closer. "Oh, awful..." she winced once through a brief pause. It was a terrible account, sickening, and Africa could barely accept her friend’s feeble attempts to reassure. Even if the Earth could restore the dove’s health, sew back her broken skin and ease the sting of bruised flesh, the Starr-Eyed worried about the other mare’s mind – nightmares surely to follow. She wanted to delve into the memory of all which had happened, but the concentration was not there; there was not yet enough control to descend. Soon to the light golden girl was asking questions that seemed so irrelevant given her situation.

The healing vines vanished almost as suddenly as they had emerged and no trace of their growth lingered in the soil beneath or around Rasta’s body. Africa rocked to her knees, velvet nose lingering by the other longer, and each breath short and shallow as she tested the air between feverishly for any sign of remaining blood. "Gaucho has returned to Dragon’s Throat..." she soothed tenderly, hiding meticulously the streak of pain as it lanced her heart and roused a suffocating wave of guilt through her mind. "He is their rightful Sultan." Their... "I’ve made a bed here in the Falls now." There was so much more to the story, so many regrets and failings – but the Starry-Eyed could not bear to face them so soon.

"Can I bring you anything dear one? Birdsong has brought to ripen more fruit here than my eyes have ever seen before." Light laughter, brave distractions. Silas spread open his wingspan and the updraft of a warm breeze gathered quickly beneath his feathers. He lifted into the air above the canopy, but waited for his beloved’s cue before leaving.

Africa