Time seemed to slow suddenly, to stall, as if to provoke and prolong an uncomfortable situation from which the Starry-Eyed could never hope to run or hide. This was inevitable; it was apparently just as inescapable as death, perhaps too just as grim...

Pastel eyes glinted apprehensively in the stroke of golden sunlight as they turned swiftly to glare at Silas’ wheeling frame above – was this an ill-timed game that he found some perverse pleasure in? No. Her loyal bonded was equally agitated by the sudden appearance of the bad-boy. It was a first impression that could not be shaken from his memory – no matter how tender a tone he touched Africa’s ears with, or the fond caress of his ravenous, relentless eyes.

Fina’s competitive scream and inflated, flaming form drew swiftly all eyes, but her commanding performance seemed all for nothing, grandstanding perhaps, and interest soon waned as she angled away. Neve on the other hand lifted before him like an incessant summer insect, and it took all of the remarkably tolerant ebony zephyr’s willpower to remember her immaturity and respect that timeliness had not yet found any significance in her life. For that moment the little frost-feathered avian managed to distract him from duty...

Beneath them, the painted stallion, the Gallant, was already turning; had bid them parting words, and Africa watched him with a sinking heart, vanish into the forest from which he and Silk had come minutes before. Perhaps there was not thus far strength of adoration or infatuation between them (she couldn’t know his feelings), but Midas had in a sense become her safety net; the constant when everything around her seemed to be spinning out of control. He never looked back, and quietly she turned nervous eyes back to her desert kin, her partner who remained; the waver of his voice like a knife through her conscience.

It occurred to her then, as rueful eyes watching his crimson gaze bat away strange glassy confusion; that she had done him an enormous injustice by abandoning the life they had, the love they had shared, and perhaps dealt him a wound that was simply unforgivable. "Silk," she answered softly, vaguely, casting her eyes to the grass as she fought a battle of her own against the burning wrath of tears. "I don’t know what to say to you." This moment had come too quickly; Africa was hardly prepared to confront the truth.

Africa