Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
It had been well less than a season, perhaps insignificant compared to others who had been taken before her. To the everlasting child though, who had left the sanctuary of her beloved homeland all those moons ago so oblivious to the malice gripping Helovia; ever trustful and innocent, a lifetime had been lost; devastated, ripped from her sweet soul. The cruel incarceration had been burned into her mottled hide, wounds, abrasions and a gory hole would become thick scars, to remind her forever of her imprudence; her reckless transgression into the enemy’s territory. Her suffering was great and the point of her mistake had well been proven by the morbid hand of death, and with the brutal spilling of her own blood; torture and humiliation. Broken physically, with dying spirit and a sour heart, Africa drifted resignedly between delusion and truth.

Silas was overwhelmed by the sorrow and hurt his splintered heart leached from Africa’s. His world was awash with grim desperation; their misery had escalated far beyond his understanding; his culpability. The young ebon Zephyr with stars speckling his back, could only keep the fallen mare company as she mourned away her life, though distraught, perched atop the subtle rise and fall of her barrel; open wings ineffectually shielding her from the fluttering, relentless snow.

-

Something unusual happened around the fortieth moon, the sun had not warmed the Basin for many days. The blizzards had settled at last, though they had smothered the lush Basin with deep, soft snow, and beneath the drift lay the dapple grey Pegasus with only one wing.

Two horses came through the choking blackness of one freezing night. One was cloaked in midnight itself- hardly noticeable if not for strange crimson flames burnt into his hind legs and a glowing blaze spanning his chiselled skull. He came upon the little rock overhang where Africa lay. Startled, barely weeks old and half starved, Silas could do naught but flee into the skeleton of a nearby tree and watch bewildered as he the mare was stirred from the brink of death. The shadowy stranger was not like the bloodthirsty demons here; his face, visible to such a creature of the night, did not wield a spear; his stark orange eyes glowed with something that was not merciless or ravenous.

Africa’s head lifted tiredly as though it were made of solid marble. She gestured without opening her eyes, shooing the stallion incoherently as though he were merely an inconvenient fly.

The stranger persisted however, reaching with bristled lips to rouse her again. The other stallion moved forward too; he also blended perfectly into the thick night, apart from crimson flames which wrapped inanimately about his forelegs, and he too wore a bright blaze over his smooth face. Together they worked, tenderly obliging Africa to her feet, and Silas watched motionless and confused as they turned her between their hulking bodies and began to move her forward- they guided her out of hell’s pit.

-

"You are safe here, child."

Africa’s eyes opened weakly, only just, and what she saw through dense black lashes was the blurred figure of a Unicorn ghost looming before her. The voice, she felt dimly as she swayed between her enduring guards did not match the wickedly sharp bone which drew her fading, fuzzy focus, and bathed in exhausted confusion Africa closed her blood-shot eyes again, believing easily that she were dead.

"Rest now."

She did not notice the two strangers slip away, or that the bitter cold which licked through Aurora Basin did not claw at her grazed shoulder; the gaping, bloodied socket above it where once a glorious, feathered wing unfurled. She did not notice her knees buckle; she did not feel the welcoming pillow of long, supple and frostless grass welcome her sleeping mass upon its bed. Africa surrendered, beneath the watchful gaze of Silas, who had followed the strange turn of events from some distance, nervously curious for the sake of his bonded.

[ooc: Africa has grazing across her left shoulder from falling on rubble, an infected spear wound on her croup from Deimos's horn, and her left wing has been severed and stolen entirely from its socket by Crash Course. Also bruising and strains from all that took place.

Whit: I can change any of this if you don't like it.]