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“We met toward the end of our last Frostfall; the flowers hadn’t dared lift their heads out of fear that a rouge frost might come. But, the air was warmer and sky glorious to behold.” Africa sighed quietly and closed her pale eyes unthinkingly. It was something that always helped her to delve deeper into the fantasy worlds painted by her mother’s enchanting tongue as a young child. Immediately the blackness locked in behind clenched eyelids began to fade, and the young horse was immersed in a world, familiar and comfortable; but of a different era, many seasons before her arrival in Helovia.
Like always, Africa was only a ghost, dancing and cavorting carelessly like children do. She was weightless, with wings that new neither burden nor strength, and she appeared as an apparition only, blessed to share the experiences of the one who weaved the story around her. Immersed entirely, the gentle note of Midas’s baritone voice was a melody, a narrative whispered by the lazy sea-spray wind as it playfully tousled the mane of a black and white stallion, perched across the cliff top plateau. There were others with him, but they did not matter, and their identities remained secret; their faces mere blurs of wishy-washy colour against a vast emerald sky.
Silently she enjoyed his story or explanation as it were, to answer her nagging curiosities. A vague smile quirked frequently, the otherwise still purse of rough black lips and her ears listened with keen interest, pressed forward against the hum of his masculine voice. He spoke well, in spite of the modest admission he had made to begin with, that his story telling skills were perhaps not the greatest. Actually, Africa glided through each part that he told her effortlessly, guided only by the smooth grace of his words. And even as she was stirred from her dream by the indignant chirp of the brightly feathered bird, a state of relaxation lingered through her mind.
And so his story was recreated by the humble grey creature’s overactive, vivid imagination- much to her delight.
A light giggle slipped through a more permanent smile and though Midas looked towards Africa, her opening eyes were again rising to admire Fina, undaunted by her apparent resentment of the role she filled in the pages of their history. “We hadn’t bonded before while she was still an egg; but after we looked at each other, it was…” He continued, though her attention was drawn back quickly as his voice began to soften and trail- she was enthralled entirely, and her being willed the words he seemed to be grasping for to spill fluidly onto his tongue.
“It was as if…our minds opened…we could feel each other; not so much in a physical way; but spiritually, with our souls.”
Excited by such a phenomenon, Africa’s eyes sparkled. She could not tell then if a piece of her heart was even missing, though she hoped so earnestly- so close seemed the bond between Midas and Fina, that the dappled mare ached for something so special in her own, dull lonely life.
“Wow...” She exclaimed at last, drawing a deep breath after and pausing to process all that had been offered. “Your story was more wonderful than I imagined. I can only hope my destiny holds such a bond as yours Midas- but what will be, will be I suppose.” There was a subtle, retiring sadness gripping the note of her voice just then, but she coughed quietly and when she spoke next there was no trace of it. “Who knows what the future holds!” Africa beamed quickly to mask her twitching emotion- perhaps that was her heart longing; she couldn’t have known.
Around them the rain seemed to lighten a little. The drizzle became a mist, and Africa lifted her face to find the thick rug of bleak grey clouds beyond the tree’s branches, lifting ever higher. She peered back thoughtfully towards Midas and reached to maybe nudge him gently, a friendly gesture, and one of gratitude. “Perhaps the cloud’s have no more tears.” She half whispered, looking to assess their saturated home in one sweeping motion.
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
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[P] I'm Not Affraid to Sleep Now [Midas]
