Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
All the while the dapple grey mare had wandered towards the stranger, her gentle honey eyes searched thoughtfully for an obliging figure ahead of her, curious and confident. The path along which she meandered was thatched to cushion her tread; tawny-brown pine-needles which were not easily carried by late autumn winds, intertwined together so intricately around the curious peeking of shameless fresh grass. Africa did not stop to sample the cheeky rogue tufts of wiry bluegrass as powdery heads stroked the swing of her passing knees; nor was her concentration skewed as the muggy hue of the deeper, north-western edge of the Threshold, spilt through the clutter of old long-leaf pines towards her- alluring and pungent. She ruffled the lacework of mottled feathers encompassing her one wing, holding it slightly ajar from her slim barrel so that the breeze generated by her travel might slip between and cool the sweat which was lathered there.

The further north she and Silas had ventured from Dragon’s Throat, the less parched Helovia seemed to be. It was a welcome break for Africa, though unavoidable film of desert dust still tinged her damp coat an inconspicuous terracotta red. Few crickets still croaked their softening song to bid their night farewell, and the mare’s vigilant ears switched feverishly between them and the sudden rustling of those disturbed by the delicate glow of impending dawn light. In the short space of time before she was able to locate the well-formed winged filly, the trees began to tighten around the path and struggling saplings which could not compete against their thirsty, greedy old bed-mates, began to appear here and there. Africa knew the forest here by Helovia’s borderline well and noted that it had not drastically changed since her last, long ago visit. It was such a complex landmark, and she was all too aware that it would not be nearly so easy for a ground-dweller, like she was, to find a swift escape. Quietly she sighed, but the regret and disappointment had long since been forgotten- left by the murky wells in the deepest tunnels of her secret cave.

A very soft murmur rumbled in the base of Africa’s throat as she watched perceptively the hesitation flinch through the younger horse’s taught hide. She continued an easy, uncompromised smile none the less. A nose was stretched forward suddenly, as though something unseen had compelled the jerking motion to meet; to touch, but Africa did not balk at all. The gesture was well accepted and she furthered the reception by blowing gently, a friendly breath to exchange. The dappled mare’s eyes sparkled with delight.
Soon enough too, the young hushed voice slipped forward like merely the tranquil hum of a flowing river. Africa’s keen ears were leaned forward in earnest and she absorbed the information readily. “Nice to meet you.” She cooed, blinking respectfully as she rehearsed the name’s unusual sound in her mind, once; twice. She noticed quickly as the darkness faded disintegrated gradually around them, that the girl was not in fact white- which had been her very first assumption. Her coat was a subtle blend of what appeared in the half-light to be beige tinged with the slightest hint of gold, not exactly painted though. Her question had been missed, or avoided, Africa wasn’t sure exactly but nodded inwardly and offered a different direction for their first meeting.

“Have you been through this forest before?” She asked patiently.