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It had been a long day, packed to the brim with adventure and discovery. By late afternoon, the bright blue sky was already awash with vivid sunset hues- the days were shortening, the solitary oaks that she found to played around were skeletal, having shed their foliage before first frosts of a bitter winter. Already the air was laced with a frigid chill, and the wind as it billowed and rustled through the long golden grasses of the meadow, drew a shiver up the length of the young mare’s spine.
Her stride was irregular, carefree and playful as she crossed through the grassland, pausing every so often to nibble at the prickly violet thistle flowers who defied the cooling season, blooming late and long. Africa appreciated the effort naturally, and tenderly lipped the rough bark-like encasing away so that the flowers might grow ever larger and bolder. Mostly, the few oaks scattered throughout the area were balding; the thick sea of grass dry and brown as the dry wind choked the soil of moisture; so any display of life and vigour was nurtured by the upcoming ‘botanist-at-heart’.
With a final parting sniff of the un-aromatic bloom, Africa danced away again, her shoulders unburdened with the weight of responsibility and rank. So far, and despite her most enthusiastic efforts, she remained without work and that allowed much time to frolic and play.
She cut through the meadow in the direction of the stream just as she had on many occasions before. The territory was familiar by now, and as such her manner was calm and relaxed. That was until voices sifted through the breeze, bathing the forward tilt of her ears and rousing her easily distracted curiosity. There were three distinct owners, she believed, and their tones rang clear through the evening tranquillity, yet not by any means raised or upset. "We need to get his wound washed first, all that blood on the nasty thing will only make it worse, and if I am correct, that looks like a bite mark, something bit him." Continued one, a stallion and his question was answered swiftly by a mare... “Before we clean the blood we must stanch the bleeding...” Bleeding?
Intrigued, Africa pranced forward again, veering left to follow the trailing conversation. Currently she was pursuing her desires to study beneath the Throat’s Shaman Cirrus- though it was a slow and tedious process for one who was so young, bright and overly eager to achieve. She broke into a light-footed canter, spotting the near-naked arms of an old, woody oak. Beneath its reach were three horses, all unfamiliar she noticed as she slowed to close the final gap at a more cautious pace. A soft murmuring noise was emitted ahead of her arrival so as not to spook the group. They were fussing busily, and Africa’s eyes widened, both interested and confused. She only realised the object of their attention when she halted by the mare, whose head had been lowered towards the gnarled surface roots anchoring the tree.
“Oh! She exclaimed with surprise at the injured creature, as the mare’s lingering question seemed to hover through the atmosphere- that which suddenly burst to life with strange, dancing lights. “I cannot answer your question, though I will help if I can. I am Africa...” Africa was a primitive soul, not particularly clever or talented, but she was thoughtful and selfless. Pale eyes scoured the earth around them, and the small helpless animal, locating a sharp rock. Immediately she shuffled towards it and knelt down so that its jagged tip pierced the knobbly bulge of her knee. Tingling pain shot through her leg and through a grimace, she slowly lifted herself to stand again. Tears swelled her eyes.
While the pain surged, she hobbled towards the bushes in question and nibbled three berries off the first- as the seconds passed, Africa called out to the mare who was assessing the larger, second shrub. “The pain remains... I feel no different.” The fruits were tart and left a metallic residue across her squirming tongue- perhaps they were unripe. Though calm, she moved with urgency towards the large wheel-like flower- marvelling of course, at the sheer loveliness. It was a shame to ruin such delicate beauty and instead of reaching for the petals, the young horse lipped at the dainty teardrop leaves, ingesting them quickly. Instantly, and much to her astonishment, the watery film across her eyes cleared and the tears which had started to spill across her cheek were dried.
“Goodness!” Africa blurted, turning at once to look at each of the tree strangers. “The leaves! My eyes are not weeping.” The pain remained, throbbing beneath the slow trickling emergence of blood. Even above that pang though, her thoughts seemed clearer- less consumed by the ache. She peered at the large round flowers again narrowing her eyes curiously. “Perhaps...” She muttered beneath her breath, and reached forward to pull it from its nest amongst the leaves.
Chewing heartily, she was delighted by the sweet, aromatic flavour that seemed to unleash a fizz through her entire mouth. The repulsive taste still present from the berries was drowned by the flood of her stimulated saliva, and a blissful smile pulled the corners of her mouth back into a loose, clumsy grin. All of a sudden, her jaw fell slack and her eyes began to cloud with some sensation alike to ecstasy. The pain had vanished from her body entirely, all of the sensitive nerves throughout were dulled completely, and the interlocking network of her muscles numbed. Perhaps she appeared drunk, listless or just stupid- but before she collapsed into a smiling, oblivious heap, Africa managed to stammer, “J... j... just use a t...t...taste...” As her eyes began to roll, the young horse noticed another had come, a child maybe- and she giggled hopelessly as she noticed two tails on the fox-creature flanking her.
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
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