"You can't be nervous."

Africa’s ears, straining in place of her failing sight, craned towards the familiar (enough) sound of his youthful, though curt voice. It warmed the nervous cold leaking through her core, and influenced a smile to draw through the looming frown which had been so far concealed by the thick, choking darkness. "There's no time to waste on being nervous when you're on an adventure." Voodoo continued after the briefest of pauses, and the young mare fed of the playfulness tinging the words- to her surprise, the alien heat of his breath upon her shivering shoulder stirred her heart to pound, frenzied by a charge of peculiar emotion that was as startling as it were thrilling. She wanted his muzzle to stay there, to press closer as the cold loneliness of their cave crowded her common-sense and rationale.

With a coy, confused giggle Africa defied her longing for his touch, and slipped from his side into the dank embrace of still, mildewy air. Her stomached lurched with nausea, befuddled and contorting as hormones pulsed below her prickling skin. “Y..yes... You're right!” She stammered, not turning to face his direction while her face was so flushed and burning. The hysterical excitement fuelling their journey into this pit below the earth was lost though, and her fantasy had been distracted beyond recovery. It did not mean that they could not start anew though, and she stepped forward tentatively away from him, feeling the cold rigid slate beneath her testing tread before continuing. Passing a quiet glance to their rear, Africa noted curiously that blue sky peeked through the fissure-doorway, the same sky which had witnessed her mad dash towards the flaming heart of Helovia; that the storm which had appeared and felt so intensely existent, had apparently evaporated. She scoffed with amusement, and moved forward through the shadows.

“What do you suppose is down here?” Her voice relaxed steadily as time increased the distance between the heated moment, and the present. The memory faded, though an awkward resistance bothered the shoulder he had touched, a pressure- the pressure of his momentary, uncharacteristic tenderness. As the time passed, she delved deeper and deeper through the cavern, listening always for the careful chip of his steps behind her, pausing whenever he did and turning with baited breath to find trace of his presence.
Then, by some chance her hoof grazed an object that was not rock, nor moss. It was sharp, and as her movement fell into a hesitant motionlessness, a mouse-quite voice seeped into the heavy silence over their heads- “Voodoo...” She waited for him, same hoof pressing and rocking backwards and forwards, against its unfamiliar bulge from the rubble-strewn cave floor. The whisper lingered, repeating again and again and a chill crawled up the length of Africa’s spine. “I think I found something...”