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Antagonised by the rogue stallion’s growing insolence, Silas grew frustrated, and that thinning tolerance grated through the frayed threads holding together the dappled mare’s frail nervous system. As though the Zephyr was merely a mosquito, or a fly buzzing about his face, the dark grey stallion swung his thick skull towards the warning fly-by, causing the bird to wheel right abruptly. Silas was not irrational; not foolish or arrogant, he knew that any threat his slight existence offered was slight. He was ultimately brave though, fuelled by a burning desire to protect and defend his soul mate.
His small body lifted high into the violent wind-current, and though tossed like a helpless leaf for the most part, he was able to arc a path back downwards by tucking his wings to his sides. His duty was not to perish at the hand of some crazed fool, but to guide and keep safe Africa, so his clawed fingers grasped hold of her sharp withers once more. Filled with distrust and contempt, his pale purple eyes glowered towards the stallion.
She figured as she shrank backwards into the cold, wet rock face, that if he had wished to spill her blood- like the stallion whose breath held the very essence of death, he would not still be swaying before her, still a length away. It offered small relief though, because his expression was demented, out of control and still the strange sickening laughter dribbled from his saliva slick grin. The tight clutch of the Zephyr’s talons atop her back filled her with warmth, when the drear of the day and the bleakness of her new predicament turned her blood cold. He was there; Silas was always her light at the end of the long dark tunnel.
The stallion stepped forward, and Africa lifted her head away from his extending mug inelegantly; a guttural growl slipped from the pointed beak of her companion. His lips passed barely by her trembling shoulder, his steaming breath pluming across the healed scars which stippled the mottled grey; and he paused where the fused skin sagged across the wingless socket just above. All the while, the mare’s eyes were clamped, her breath caught in a choking bubble at the base of her gulping throat.
His large skull navigated upwards, pulling back only slightly so that the whiskers speckling his chin brushed the curve of her delicate jaw line; the flat circle of sullied cheek when he whispered into her ear, "Have you missed me, old friend?"
Africa shied away from his hot, stale words in a flash motion, staggering sideways as she tried in vain to find the narrow path reaching up into the cliff-side. Silas unbalanced and startled from his post, screamed as her distress amplified through his pounding heart; and his beak clacked angrily as he lunged past the creature again, provoking it, and taunting it to follow and turn away from Africa. Her voice was paralysed with fear and renewed trauma, and she could only shake her head fiercely, to rid his demonic image from her ringing mind. Perhaps there was a flicker of recollection- but this animal was just another terror; a disease eating her soul.
[ooc: sorry I only very roughly proofed this one :-S]
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