Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
Whatever the level of understanding and sympathy shared between reptile and bird, the lonely little star-spangled Zephyr frequently sought the dragon’s reassurance through that first night; free from whiteout-winds and hyper vigilance. Often a soft mismatched trade of clicks, croons and chirps rattled through the billowy mists of that mysterious forest, and while Silas could never understand the messages relayed by the exotic dragon’s tongue, he found some solace when he finally dared hop through the limber grass, to settle in the empathetic company offered.

The dapple grey mare stirred often, provoked by memories both violent and raw, ricocheting through her collapsed body. The little shadowy bird’s heart would lurch fearfully in response each and every time; his troubled lavender gaze leaping helplessly from Africa’s jerking limbs, to the sleepless watchful embrace of the white mare’s violet eyes. Silas rested little, only when exhaustion briefly gripped his bonded’s frail mind, allowing her to slip away into feeble bouts of oblivion- that was when her heart steadied, and he was soothed.

When morning broke, diluted sunlight saturated the ancient forest and mild warmth slowly began to melt away the night’s bitter chill. The mist lingered though, and when bleary honey eyes opened at last, they did not immediately recognize the change of environment. While they adjusted, very gradually, Africa remained slumped where he had fallen the night before. She thought, as a searing headache pulsed angrily against her sunken temples, that it was odd that she could not feel anything else. For so long, she had been tortured with the aftermath agony dealt by the spiteful and heartless, that it had become somewhat normal- debilitating, but familiar.

Her burning mind was a mere, bearable flicker of the lasting pain which had now seemingly vanished. Thick mottled neck curled upwards suddenly, the realisation that something was not right, sweeping through her as a sickening surge of renewed adrenaline. Obliviously overcompensating for the weakened state of her legs, Africa heaved herself off the earth so that she might rest her spinning head in a slightly more upright position. To her astonishment though, the action occurred quite effortlessly and she toppled right over to the other side, powerless with reduced means to balance. Shocked and confused, the young horse scrambled promptly and shakily to her feet and poised in static bewilderment there, wide suspicious eyes absorbing the drastic shift of tundra to woodland, and wet, cold snow to lush grass.

Already Silas was fluttering about the mare’s face, filled with the same apprehension now portrayed through every flinching line of his bonded’s wasted frame. Desperately he reached out for her erratic, frightened gaze with his own gentle eyes, to settle her and comfort her; so that she would not balk and flee, because her confidence had been broken down to unrefined instinct, he knew.

Africa saw her friend then, the little glossy angel who had appeared one day, to touch her heart, and fill the lonely void. It had been a miracle, she had presumed ignorantly at the time, when there still had been some sliver of arrogant hope in her. She had been warmed by his company, blessed, but alas the seed of depression; of guilt and sorrow, had already been sprouting through her soul.

"Silas" She cried aloud, with a wild and shrill voice that was not her own. She was noticing for the first time that unfamiliar company loomed nearby; but the Zephyr’s eyes had shed the panic still rampant in her own. There was mellowness about them, a contagious calm that melted away the uncertainty and distress; and Africa held her breath, though swinging defensively from reach of the two strange mares, to stare at them with inconceivably renewed vigour, head on.