He laughed – a startlingly empty sound which grated viciously on her already frayed nerves. There was a scathing glint in his blood-red eyes and it glowed ferociously as the sun showered down upon him, illuminating the chaos of emotion that riddled his expression; a guardian for this perilous adventure? Nay, the Sun sought retribution too, surely... Africa felt herself shrink backwards helplessly across trembling, itchy legs, but where was she to go now? He knew this woodland wilderness far better than she. It was the home that he had abandoned to follow her; lulled by the song of the siren, enchanted by false promises, crocodile smiles...

None of this had been deliberate. She danced through the ever rolling tides of her own frivolous emotion; lust, infatuation, excitement. She had no control over her own heart – had not she told Wildwalker the same thing? You just can’t force love. It grows, or it withers. He seemed not to accept the absence of her reasoning, the way she cowered behind a veil of guilty indecision; dishonesty and spinelessness. And she knew this was fair.

Should she lie this time too?

Eyes glazed fearfully, consumed by the rebellion of the clandestine thoughts beneath; they turned again towards the tree line as Silk’s stiff stare broke away; stealing a glance that would surely add salt to raw wounds if it were discovered. The pain, the agony swelling behind his gaze as it returned was stunning, the tension through his sleek black shoulders, the dejection; the throb of her pulse was deafening!

His next words came like a knife through her windpipe – the truth ricocheted all around her, a haunting echo that was perhaps only the whisper of a guilt riddled conscience. Feeble eyes swept back to the cell beneath the mountain which had been her refuge; a hole inside which she had hidden from an avalanche of problems, from this wretched soul who had done naught but hunger for her commitment and affection. His voice broke as it trailed, and Africa’s heart almost broke in two, grieving for his loss; adoration that she had once mirrored, or had it been hopeless infatuation? Africa the Heartbreaker... she thought bitterly, thinking vaguely of the urchin who had torn off his own wings. The air that surrounded that grim moment now seemed to cloud she and Silk now, a thick, bleak fog that she could never hope to escape.

Another pause, a silence filled to the brim with confused energy; anger, despair, hope... shattered.

Africa was a sitting duck; or was he? Who was the victim here? He the master of manipulation, begging for her love, grovelling as though his very life depended on it;, and she, she had changed her mind as though they were nothing more important than the flavour of food – a child’s inconsistency.

So much had changed; as the Starry-Eyed stood there before the broken stallion, with tears of lament burning her eyes, there was an older grace about her. Where once she might have reeled beneath torrents of resentment, descended into her pitiful habit of self loathing, a ritual when everything else flailed out of her control, she stood with a frighteningly solid resoluteness; confidence. There was no denying the new attraction forged through her mind, and it was not simply the flutter of volatile teenage lust – which she had felt, too, years before. As she stood like a soldier facing the grim aftermath of battle (because that is what this had escalated to), it became all the clearer; beautiful affection nurtured, now as strong as the hills grouped around her. Perhaps that was why she had been so blind to it... The feelings were an intricate artwork, coloured by the truth, the law of time. Such a long time.

Her heart belonged to Midas, it always had...

How could she cry? For her, there was nothing but sunlight ahead, the promise of warmth and purpose rewritten. Africa felt shame, embarrassed that she could not will forth floods for Silk now; could not equal the pain that so very obviously crippled his crumbling soul. His face was damp, saturated by the blood of their shattered relationship, and while the empathetic part of her sought to comfort him, to touch and caress, the only face she saw was the Gallant’s – so many memories woven together, a blanket far stronger than the very fine string from which Silk had been dangling. Was he just a stepping-stone along the natural path of discovery? What was life without lessons? She was sorry that his, on this occasion, had been so excruciating – love at first sight, true love, really did exist...

The Starry-Eyed sighed deeply, sadly, and her sympathetic gaze sought his at last – tender, rational. "I... I can’t love you Silk, not the way you ask me to." Africa loved Rei... she loved Sikeax, Nasreen and Sohalia too. Her tone was remorsefully quiet, as delicate as an ocean mist. "You have touched my life, warmed my heart and been a friend like no other." She quelled the playful giggle rising like bubbles in her throat, as she thought of the adolescent nature of their experiences – her experience; but her face grew solemn, and her brow creased beneath the weight of decision. After this, there would be a fond embrace to comfort her, but for Silk, only the empty arms of loneliness would welcome him home. It was a terrible fate that she would have wished upon no one – but she had no choice anymore. "I’m sorry Silk, I have nothing left for us."

Africa