Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
I’ve wandered too far... was the first thing that flashed through her uneasy mind when after a long trudge south through the slippery white sands of the beach, her hooves struck a more solid, soil loam. She was unused to such an awkward and primitive means of travel, her knees were stiff and aching, and her pace had slowed rather dramatically, hindered by the difficult nature of the terrain. Not so long ago, Africa would have soared far beyond the land where those unadorned, unblessed ground dwellers hobbled about. But now, she was one of them- ungifted and forced to abide by the unflattering laws of gravity herself.

No answer came from the bird that did sail far above her bobbing head through the hold of night’s enduring, smothering shadow. There was still only weak and often misconstrued coherence between them, with no real ability communicate while their bond was still gripped with immaturity. Theirs was a silent barter of passions; pure, organic emotion that spilled from one heart, through into the other. Understanding was growing slowly and steadily already though, and as such, Africa found an easy friend in Silas. Perhaps one closer than any of her own kind, that she had ever encountered. So too did his unrelenting loyalty and dependability strengthen her appreciation. Rarely, were Zephyr and Pegasus not in one another’s company.

The mare found it difficult to sit, stagnant within the pit of her desert homeland these days. While the Throat’s borders did offer mild peace while the darkness lasted, persistent and nagging guilt forced her into relative isolation for long stints at a time. It was difficult to bathe in the gullible association of those who offered her unwavering clemency- despite, all her wrongs which now rusted the chain-link bonds between them. Her mind, her heart and her still reeling emotion were a conflicted cacophony, and always the young Pegasus was restless and torn.
So beneath the concealment of shadow; though she didn't for one second presume that the increased patrols would have missed her, Africa had slipped between the half-made wall to the west of the oasis, and journeyed quietly in that direction.

Silas was a creature of the night, quite unlike the one-winged horse who trailed half-blinded beneath. Though he could not speak to her of all that he saw; of the shifting landscape, when the shoreline gave way to the foggy choke-hold of quagmire, he knew that while his heart was calm, Africa too would keep steady. It was a heavy responsibility he shouldered so tirelessly. Her reliance was exclusive, and it was absolute. He was the balance of her skewed mental health, and the young bird bore that duty with fearless devotion.

Africa could smell the change of scene. Only the stupid or the dying could have missed such a sudden difference in air quality. All at once the stench of fetid mud; of mould and decay filled her fluttering nostrils, and she paused mid-stride, turning an ear to survey that which she did not easily see. Some time ago, the trees whose trunks were aglow with warmth and magic had been left behind, and Africa figured as she stepped forward again through utter blackness that she was a long way from home; from all that was familiar, and perhaps in some perverse sense, from all that meant safety.
All the comforts and security of home had been lost that night when her ghost white herd-sister had betrayed her confidence, leading her into the pit of hungry, angry lions for nothing more than a foolish joke. So much had changed that night long ago. Perhaps she would never be the same again.