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She hummed idly, a tune which bore no lyrics- the mood had been somewhat broken by the untimely death of her game. Africa trudged a bothered step forward, glancing in the moment downward to see the horseshoe print left behind; the scar inflicted by the warrior whose hooves were sharp and decorated with the shining blades of thirty knives- no wait, thirty five! Africa arched her neck and pressed as much weight as she could muster into the next step, sinking and cutting even more deeply than with the last. “Fear me!” She demanded aloud, pointing her toe brazenly into the flailing mass of tyrant grasses as they waves in helpless surrender to her might and power. She thought about Midas, and clothed herself in his magical coat of silvery steel so that she too would be invincible.
The young mare lifted her foreleg as high as it could stretch before lashing it down again with a playful mock sneer- because realistically, sadism had never found residence in her heart, nor wickedness through her untarnished mind. “You!” She directed the accusatory cry towards a lone daisy who had curled its petals, guilty and shamed by the valiant presence of Africa. “You are a spy, and for that treason you are now my prisoner!” Her regally arched neck snaked out to whip the betraying bloom from its nest between rich emerald clover. Tenderly, she clutched the captive between her teeth- naturally the value of such a prize would be lost if she bruised it or returned it to the Throat unfit and suffering. Kri would undoubtedly chew her head off for ruining the brilliant opportunity to squeeze secret plots and motives from its very core. The rain washed away the flowers culpable tears, and the dapple grey horse was glad because, she hated to see others weep.
The flooded watercourse roared, its churning body drowning out all other sound aside from the constant drum of steady, heavy rain. Africa certainly never heard the stranger wade through her obstacle, nor was she aware that he had slipped, wraithlike, from its overbearing current onto the sodden loam at her rear. The dim murmur of a throaty chuckle drew her black-tipped ears around to find him first; her milk-white face following, glazed with a wide-eyed most surprised expression. “And who are you?” She questioned suspiciously, narrowing her pale golden eyes to examine the stranger’s being. “You are also a spy!” Lost to the illusion written by her overly vivid imagination, Africa spun quickly in a tight circle- very warrior-like, to face her foe head on.
“Wait!” She sighed, relaxing her entire body for a second and placing her prisoner at her feet before sliding a rock across its stem to prevent cunning escape. She danced forward towards him, her sleek wet armour clinking with the bounce of her lovely movement. Just before she reached him, Africa fussed with searching lips through the supple grass, rising again with a soggy mat of old crushed leaves; all fallen a long while ago from the now naked ash tree under which they both stood- well almost. Pretending the flimsy litter was copper chain-mail (not as effective as Midas’s of course); she shuffled to drape it across his back. If he was to stand any chance against her prowess, he would need armor too.
“There!” She said brightly, with a smile that defied the morose day surrounding them. Hurriedly, she manoeuvred backwards and lifted her face high into the air to peer down her nose at him from beneath her plate mask. “What say you, villain!” Naturally Africa lowered her voice into a ‘terribly fierce’ bellow at that point- obviously, she would have struck fear into the heart of any present to witness the confrontation.
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
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[O] It's Raining, It's Pouring [Shajake]
