Silas, thoughts startled harshly, suddenly, pulled from slumber by a sting that put even the memory of her limb’s gruesome detachment to shame. SILA... She moaned heavily, voice choked by agony, lean legs stiffening impulsively as arcing nerves seized all control of her body through the length of the contraction.

I’ve... a knife through my... spi... - she grimaced crudely, skull rolling backwards, and flaming crest writhing like that of a stricken serpent.

It had become terribly difficult to heave up off the spongy nest of grass and leaves in recent days, and she more often stood to sleep consequentially, than lay. The evening before however, energy stores had been too low and before she had even become aware of the height of her weariness, weak knees had bent and her mass had crumbled down upon the bed. Now, her abdomen twisted repulsively, violently, as the knife’s stinging blade recoiled from her skin.

There is no blade, the zephyr answered his beloved’s distress worriedly, skipping into danger across agile legs to glance by the back of her rocking body for the slightest moment.

The air was sticky - humid and still - and sweat already stained her dappled canvas a murky black hue. It saturated heavily the wicker beneath, pooling slowly across the stone floor. Outside, the pale wash of moonlight allowed a comfortable ambience during the midnight hour, it was peaceful, quiet – save for the strained cries and frightened tears that spilled with more and more frequency from the mountain’s foot.

“Mid...!” trembling lips called anxiously, but the sound of her voice was smothered by another burst of excruciating pain – she wondered if the vertebrae in her spine were exploding, one and then another, and another, and cried out again desperately with clenched eyes and grinding teeth. Make it stop! she begged Silas, neck curling up involuntarily and forelegs straight (stiffer than pine). She heaved as hard as she could - pushing and groaning until cool-creamy irises were blotted red by bursting capillaries.

As the pain dulled briefly, Africa’s tortured body fell limp again across the bed. Find him... she panted breathlessly, too weary – too terrified - to move at all.

As the horrified zephyr scuttled to obey in a growing state of confusion, the next wave began to rise through the struggling mare’s core and she sobbed uncontrollably, biting down across the straw mix hard enough to spur new pain through her jaw line (it paled in comparison).