Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
Reckless and rash, the dapple grey mare slid silently atop the firm ridge of narrow pathway, her fractured heart pulsing with hopelessness that was echoed by the sloppy drag of her stride. To either side of her, sparse wiry tufts of sour grass and cattails wilted without the nurse of nourishing sunlight, clinging tightly as their purchase fell steeply into the murky glint of the surrounding stagnant cesspools. Africa was lost in oblivion, her sensibility unable to claw through the mess of thoughts and painful memories which fouled her soul so entirely.

Again she paused as the twitch of her wary ear caught hint of flickering movement nearby; the swish of a tail perhaps, or grass swaying in a breeze. For a second, her consciousness was roused from the gloomy pit of her misery, and pale eyes searched the darkness for the presence of another. It did not occur to her though, that the wind had dulled quite significantly when the air had become so sullied, nor that the only sound littering the unfamiliar area was the rush of her breath, and the muffled lonely trudge of her hooves. An eerie chill tingled through her motionless body, and she glanced upwards to find the shadowy blur of Silas fluttering downwards.

He too had seen the movement, though only as a sudden flash through the corner of his violet gaze. Without the will to part from Africa for even the briefest of moments, the Zephyr could not affirm what creature was lurking in the darkness; whether even if it was as insignificant as a slimy toad or hunting owl. Their company was perhaps in its element, and as such, its whereabouts remained well concealed; obscured from the unwitting tourists who were dusted red with desert sands. Cautiously, he scanned the gnarled, crusty branches of the marsh-trees nearest to his fragile bonded. Beyond them lay a muddle of noose-like vines, tangled together to form something similar to a spider’s sticky web, waiting to snare the unsuspecting victim who fumbled to close. They were draped all throughout the thick canopy of tough, browning leaves, long sharp thorns breaking their lazy lines.

Silas drew a long breath as the mare began to walk again; she was ignorant of the intertwining network of swamp channels flanking their passage he thought, and he had no means to warn her. The apprehension did spill through her to some degree, but to avoid provoking her vulnerable condition into frenzied flight, the bird held his composure diligently. The air was repulsive down here where the winds did not churn, pungent and uninviting. It took the remainder of his willpower to remain perched upon her withers within it all.

There was an unambiguous splash behind them; a fish, a frog? No something far larger, perhaps whirling just below the surface.

The young Zephyr’s balance skewed as Africa startled and spun on the spot; but the path was too narrow to accommodate such manoeuvring, and her knees buckled as her hooves lost their traction, sliding down into the dark icy water with a crash. With undulating forelegs, the frightened mare jerked her weight repeatedly upwards, her only wing opened in a vain attempt to stabilize, but she kept slipping back down, and the bridge crumbled away as she thrashed. Silas’s guttural cry echoed through the thin air as he hovered just above her, shaken from his roost, and his bonded’s struggle was interrupted when the ominous profile of a monster far larger than herself extended its form to her right- just behind where she had been travelling.

The Zephyr’s angry screech peeled around them again, and while Africa’s eyes failed to identify the stallion, as that, Silas’s keen night-vision did. Still there was no way he could sooth the mare, their eyes were not yet bound; they were not quite one.

Africa bounced away from it in an instant of shock horror, and away from the safety of the trail. The bog sucked hungrily at the press of her awkward, uncomfortable gait as she struggled forward, leaping and lunging through the difficult terrain. Waiting vines welcomed her into their midst, snagging around her pumping neck viciously in tight embrace, so that she could not pass through. Silas scowled furiously at the half-lifted stallion, but the gesture was futile as he lingered through the darkness beyond the horse’s reach. Swiftly he wheeled around to pursue the blind, short-lived dash of the mare, and slipping between her bindings with cutting talons and a snapping hooked beak, he began to free her sinking frame.