It was almost the same fear which rose to glaze thickly across retiring golden eyes, as that which had surfaced when the aspiring spy of Dragon’s Throat, Satanic Silk, had paid her a visit. The confrontation had been wrought with turbulent emotion, words thrown too freely, and the memory of that fateful afternoon barely months before returned readily to sting her mind and conscience. Casting her meek gaze to the stony earth was all Africa could manage to conceal the staining guilt as it pinched ashen features; she could not stomach the bay’s reaction when recognition set it – Africa’s blazing, crippled presence was hardly forgettable.

And there it was...

Megaera answered with similarly dense murmuring and should the one-winged mare’s frame of mind have been free of its burden, it might have laughed heartily at the silliness. There was nothing remarkably entertaining about the situation however, and beneath tensing sinew, her empty, aching stomach twisted apprehensively. What does she know? she wondered fretfully, silently, wholly expecting the next of Megaera’s words to spew ridicule and revulsion – for that was precisely the perspective she, herself, had taken. A fleeting, one-eyed glance upwards revealed only the other mare’s shock, confusion perhaps lurking somewhere throughout, but the dappled medic felt inclined to assume instead disdain.

“I’m... “ she began in unison with her once desert sister’s reply – her own cloak of dapples had been long free of trademark dust and brackish hue. Ears reclined sorrowfully, slipping still deeper beneath playful flames, and she stiffened her tongue between marbled yellow teeth to listen instead.

The nature of the soldier’s arrival – ‘not here for pleasant business...’ – hardly came as a revelation and Africa nodded grim and understanding; but Megaera went on to speak of Sohalia the Transcended, not herself, and lifting throat choked very visibly on the news. The Dragon mare’s low tenor shouldered the grief of her entire family, no doubt – that and the pessimistic shadow through her expression seemed awfully out of place on one so resilient.

Though cruel in a sense, the dove-like Sultana’s disappearance was the perfect distraction from her own mean desertion – and small smile stirred upon fraught lips. “You needn’t search further...” soft lyrics explained, and the tone warmed quickly beneath. “I healed her wounds only weeks ago. She is here... (nose drifted as though to gesture around at the lush wilderness beyond their stony perch) ...somewhere.” She shook the worry from her face, long heavy mane bouncing beneath the wild twist of goaded fire. How ironic that both Sultana's had retired to the Gallant's fair paradise - she said nothing of it.

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