Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
Another split.
It was the adventure, both exhilarating and terrifying, that she had never (consciously), chosen to embark on. Africa’s thoughts were as torn as this next fork in the road presenting yet another two daunting destination opportunities; and she scrutinized each with her pale grey face cocked suspiciously to the side, amber eyes narrowing fixedly down one and then the other. Silas clucked in contempt of this supernatural game which the labyrinth corn field seemed to be taunting them through, time and time again. Their apprehensive hearts were together thrashing, despite the outcome of their previous choices appearing rather tame- given the sinister nature of bitter cackling and morbid wolf calls which all too often flooded their straining ears.

Africa shivered, though beneath the shroud of her costume, her skin rippled with luxurious warmth. She and Silas were bathed in a revolting green haze, and it did nothing to ease the simmering level of tension between them. Africa hesitated, unable to choose between each new path- the first pointing north, where the plants posed motionless and at peace (strikingly normal compared to the toxic, swishing corn to each side of their path; the second jutting around to the east circling through the corn until she could see no further. Straining her eyes through the sickly light, Africa took along, weary breath.

"Alright…" She began, feeling the tug of emotional fatigue in her stretched mind. "Have you even the slightest clue where we are?" Silas could not understand he plea, but felt the rise of her anxiety like a plaguing dark cloud through the very depths of his core. His shining eyes scanned the landscape around them- the vast, never ending sea of noxious looking corn heads and their flimsy, flapping arms. He did not feel confident lifting from his perch upon her withers for fear of losing contact in this unusual, eerie weather; the young zephyr was not even certain he would be able of scouting the route home. Wistfully he clucked and nestled tightly against the reeds woven about her quite vertical crest.

"Hmm…." the one-winged mare procrastinated, dithering on the spot and shuffling her sharp, curved hooves through the beaten old track below. "I think we should head NORTH." She announced after quite a considerable amount of time had passed them by. "NORTH because I don’t think I can bear the sight of this gruesome, menacing looking corn field any more. " Defiantly- as though it would be a potent insult to this crude place, Africa strutted forward and they made their way with mock confidence in the direction that looked so much safer.


This is so awesome and different! NORTH