The stallion was less than done with the encounter. Even as it seemed like he was about to set off away, he paused to argue his sanity, and Africa’s breath choked disappointedly in her throat. Despite his objection, and a snappishly offered lesson, the dappled mare held her ground carefully with her tongue wedged firmly between her teeth – there just seemed no point in quarrelling with a mad man. She offered a small smile riddled with resignation instead, and began to turn back to her female companion again; though the small shift of his weight attracted the notice of one ear alone and it turned cautiously to heed further the rambling Legatus.

Mottled skin flinched suddenly, struck by assailing debris, and light-golden eyes glowered heavily at Oxy as he snorted, and at last turned to leave. Silas watched on with thinning tolerance from above, all too ready to descend upon his beloved’s aggressor at even the tiniest of signals. There was no need to harry him though, and both thought it best to let him wander off in peace (awkwardly though he went) – Praise the Sun...

Disbanding all ridged stance, Africa turned fully towards the other mare and sighed profoundly. There was no denying her relief; her entire posture seemed to soften all at once. For a moment she was taken aback by the intensity of the bay’s focus – the unnerving features part hidden beneath thick ebony forelock. The scarring was extensive and the longer she stared (trying of course, to examine inconspicuously), the more squeamish she felt. It appeared to reach well down the right portion of her heavy skull and the thick padding of hair barely concealed its existence.

Awkwardly she glanced away and found beyond the other’s burly shoulder a swaying branch to focus on. Stern voice swept back her attention quickly and she offered something of a humble smile. “Another of many scars.” The gentle-hearted Pegasus spoke softly, reassuringly, and snaked her elegant neck through the air to demonstrate the harmlessness of the flames. “There’s no heat, no reason to be afraid. Those who touch me suffer no effect at all.” If it were any other, she might then have craned forward to allow touch and exploration; but she withheld properly on this occasion.

As the other’s head shook, the extent of the scarring became all too apparent and though Africa held similar upon her own body (sleek pink, raw, wingless shoulder), she felt both dismayed and humbled for the sake of familiar suffering.

“What's your name?” the Starry-Eyed asked softly, turning towards the path that Oxy had more or less followed. “Have you any wounds to be healed?” She paused to let her eyes sweep contentiously one final time around the thick draft body, and then long, lean legs began the short trip that would see them home safely (and not too rapidly should they fall again upon the radical stallion ahead).