Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
Straying further and further from truth and lament, Africa found herself drifting through subliminal numbness; lost in the wilderness, between those familiar worlds which caused so much conflict in her decaying mind. The dark misery straining her soft face was masked well, if only by the drowning night, which fell down as a swarthy cloak of protection across her mottled shoulders. More than half blinded while there was no light shed by the sun, she felt wraithlike, invisible; presuming that because she did not stray too close to the glowing trees which marked the well-etched passages throughout Helovia, she could not be seen, touched. Simplicity ever tanned her grief-stricken soul.

Silas wheeled through the bitterly cold, biting wind as it swirled in bleak updrafts through the cloud-drenched darkness. He knew, that even if moonlight had been present to wash the eerie arc of sky with its milky hue, little relief would be offered to the wilting earth beneath. Storm clouds gathered en masse, secretly uniting elemental forces that would undoubtedly shed further terror across the confused, stray souls beneath. The young midnight Zephyr tucked his wings to dip lower through the sky, well below the slow, soft rumblings which vibrated above. His sharp eyes tracked their path vigilantly, ever mindful that his bonded cared little for her direction or her safety. He was her guardian in a sense, longing for her broken heart to find some solace, to leak contentment and quiet through into his own.

Frostfall’s callous fingers seemed to loosen their hold suddenly, and instinctively Africa’s black-rimmed ears danced forward to listen, to examine the unfamiliar terrain ahead of them. She knew with dim interest that they were nearing the coast; the air was tinged subtly with a salty taste, and there was cool moisture suspended around them. Humidity perhaps, without the warmth though; a contrast to the thin, dry and frosty air, which had encompassed much of the inland stretch of their aimless journey.

A voice echoed through the grave silence stirring Africa’s churning thoughts into a wild scramble, "Hello?" Silas swooped down instantly to hover by the nervously twitching shoulder of the dappled mare, and while her nose did not turn to greet his arrival- it rarely did, the warmth and relief that spread through her heart as a result, filled him too. Across muffled wing-beats he alighted across the point of her withers, a sharp, piercing chirp peeling through the dark to indicate to the owner of that young voice, that he was not alone.

With reckless indifference, and little concern for her wellbeing or the presence of the stranger, Africa slipped forward again through the crisp, ice-sheathed grass along her invisible trail to self-obliteration.