Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
Bittersweet was the sensation that rushed through her nervously quaking body as she found herself once more upon the familiar border of her homeland. The journey had been long and arduous; cruel given that her birthright was to soar beyond the primitive souls whose feet were bound down by gravity. Why had she come home, when it was family who had betrayed her trust, her good-will? She could not find reason through the fog of apprehension which confused her thoughts. Perhaps it was her unwavering loyalty, that foolishly hopeful obedience that pulled her sorry corpse from the ever shifting mists of the Edge, heart-sister to this desert realm; so far south from the blizzards and snow-strewn mountains which had caged her to begin with so, so long ago. Certainly her perspective had been distorted- perversely, so and as she lingered beneath shadowed limestone cliffs just beyond the desert’s rim, Africa’s eyes narrowed wistfully, sorrowfully.

Her spirit shattered, and healed bones aching with wasted ambition, the dappled Pegasus watched beneath an eerie fire-glow, a few of her kin, fuss about the shadowy monstrosity which would someday provide some level of diversion, protection for the Throat. Once, she looked with wonder-filled eyes upon this half made magical structure; but now the only image which her demented gaze absorbed was that of prison walls, easily comparable to the sheer impassable, iced fence which surrounded the pit of hell itself. A shiver broke Africa’s attention, and she shrank away further beneath her shady refuge, all the more keen to avoid snaring their attention. No longer was she imprudent enough to believe that she could slip wraithlike, unnoticed like that ghost-white mare had led her to believe. Demons and devils lurked through every corridor; they watched always with eyes lusting over the unwitting, with hearts that hungered for blood; for death.

Warily, she glanced upwards. She remembered then that the soldiers of the Throat- her brethren, tirelessly patrolled these borders, both with eagle-like eyes from above and by foot. It did not matter that the endless night shed grim blackness throughout the world- they would be there, watching; waiting. Not all who shared this territory were alike- not like the pit of wolves from whence she had come, each of whose faces were adorned with all manner of vicious spears and pointless trees; her kin was diverse. Africa’s gentle heart was still burned with grief; marred so easily by the impurity to which she had been forcibly witness. The sight, sound and scent of death still haunted her, and her pale cheeks wore dried salt channels, waiting to flow again when she couldn’t stay awake any longer, and succumbed to nightmares and restless, disturbed slumber.

The dark outline of her fluttering, watchful Zephyr friend filled her with some sense of calm. Silas had remained in her company for much of her incarceration, and if not for his comforting presence and relentless badgering, her existence might have withered away entirely. Before he’d found her, that was all Africa had wished for- death.
The place was vaguely familiar, as his sharp eyes roved curiously ahead of them. He shared the worry which plagued her heart; knew the guilt which eroded her confidence and the suspicion which broke her hope, and so Silas guarded their movement with dogged determination. Though young and small, the Zephyr was crafted with unsurpassed courage, and his tiny heart beat with anguish and conviction for his crippled bonded.

As Africa stepped through the alien, cold sand, her only wing, naked and ugly, was clutched tightly to her waist. Some time had been spent by the warm, tender hospitality of the Edge Seer, and gratitude panged through her wilted corpse, a longing to return and hide still longer beneath the safety of her company. But she felt like a parasite, clingy and bothersome, and had slipped away on her own accord- perhaps not unnoticed, but free from challenge. One day the young grey would return to thank Hellena; although the gift of freedom was a debt she felt she might never repay; and also Smoke, who had fused the fractures and soothed the strains that had rendered her body useless. For now though, she waded through the sea of murky red, with downcast eyes; guilty, and with a secret gnawing at the frayed nerves in her brain. One face remained steady through the cloud of her confusion though, the girl who had come from home with tender concern; and that was whom she prayed would stumble upon her worthless attendance first. Though she knew she deserved not, the clemency now.