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The clatter of ivory against ivory, horn against horn resonated around the impromptu battle-field, bouncing menacingly between the desolate mountain range’s stone walls, trapped. It was a sound which prior to this night would have roused little reaction from the dapple grey Pegasus. Though now, as the gash across her crimson-soaked croup twinged and pulsed uncontrollably, Africa’s blood began to curdle and her stomach to twist, with reminiscent nausea. She could spare no sidewards glance at that moment, to find her teammate- from her perspective the very reason for this ungracious undoing. Yet the echoing madness filled her ears and reassured her mushrooming resentment that Sinuhe was still fighting.
The unexpected rage which had inundated her mind, filled her heart with new (slim) courage, and numbed her debilitated frame at least briefly, allowed a clear chain of thoughts to form and a new plan of action to bubble to the surface. Africa began to think again with mild coherency- most emotion aside. Her gritted teeth missed their first target, and slid dismally down the slope of his cheek as he swung his horrid bulk of head away from her attack. Her pale eyes were swamped with disappointment as her pathetic grip slipped from the pinch of his facial skin, though she was allowed little time to wallow as she endeavoured heartily to pursue his track.
The revolting steamy haze choked with testosterone and hot, nauseating sweat was thicker the nearer her sullied soul danced to him. The air was ripe and pungent, and it was an odour that would probably linger in her memory, as long as this night’s scars disfigured her sleek dappled hide. Africa so desperately wanted Midas to appear again, cloaked in his gleaming steel armour, splendid and mighty; she longed (perhaps enamoured still) to see his black and white coat rippling across the powerful flex of his muscular form as he balanced profoundly between those gold-dipped, feathered wings. She willed in pathetic desperation for the same earthquake which had brought that wretched ‘stick-head’ stallion to his knees months before, to rumble beneath her hooves now- to shake the entire scene into oblivion.
She wanted to wake up; to lift her unadulterated self from the nest she had created at the doorway to Ahi’s hospital chamber; to be home- safe...
As the tight grasp of her straining jaw collected the flesh of his left haunch briefly before slipping once again, the stallion seemed to refocus his energy- the lash of his commanding stride seemed distracted- or preoccupied; the hurt from her snapping attack seemed to only affect him vaguely, seemingly blurred by the transfer of his secret, malicious intent. The shift unsurprisingly caught Africa off guard. Her nervously apprehensive gaze flailed after him as he continued post-buck, around to the right, and as it found the murky blue pool of his left eye she balked, stunned and horrified by the malevolence swirling; building within it.
In an instant, the panic-stricken mare leaned hard left away from his cruel form, unfurling the flimsy feathered mass of her untouched wings with failing care for their proximity reaching towards him. He was a living nightmare, far worse than the gypsy stallion who had coveted her feathers in the misty field in the mountains; more terrifying than the smouldering flames she had found that exploded as though from Helovia’s very heart. He was more petrifying even than the burning agony which racked through her floundering corpse through these horrendous seconds.
The icy swirl of an updraft gathered beneath her wing’s cupped expanse, rippling and teasing each interlocking feather with the promise of imminent flight. Africa felt the rush of wind; the bursting, frantic euphoria; and lurching clumsily upwards across strained and injured haunches, was momentarily airborne- thrilled and relieved by the prospect of her chance to escape.
It was not to be though...
Even as her hind hooves left the loathsome surface of the Basin and lifted into the blissful embrace of liberty, her strength was unsuspectingly sapped by some formidable, invisible force. It had slithered already up through her hooves to twist up the length of her hind legs like a hungry disease; an immortal power which leached the strength from her bones and drained the vigour right out of her soul. Her wings found no energy to maintain her mass, and choked of breath she plummeted for the second, awful time that night. The gravelly, frost-laced terrain was unyielding as she fell hard with a thud, again across the already grazed swell of her limp left shoulder. Whatever air remained in her gasping lungs was expelled as the collision forced it from her chest. She was helpless, stricken by the very essence of death perhaps- Africa could not have known.
She closed her eyes, defeated and without hope...
Post: 4/4
Word Count: 799
Summary: No attacks- no defence. Heather- I hope I responded to Deimos’ magic suitably. Please let me know for future reference if Africa should have been affected differently- learning, learning :)
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
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![[Image: 515b833f251f3]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/515b833f251f3)
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Come not within the measure of my wrath. [Sinuhe & Africa Challenge]
