Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
By law of nature, Zephyrs were intended to be habitually carnivorous. With finely sharpened beaks, hawk-like eyes capable of tracking great distance, and talons to rival the most finely-tuned bird of prey, the species was a predator to be reckoned with. Silas the Roc Zephyr bucked that trend though. The young creature had never been taught to develop those skills required to hunt, instead learning to scavenge through native bushes for the most part, in quest of edible fruits, nuts and seeds. The unusual diet, aside from grasses and other native foliage consumed by grazers, had been required to nourish and support the wilting life force of the mare who was so deeply ingrained in his brave young soul. Silas had tended to her during the frailest of her hours, fed her and balanced her as best he could manage upon that cusp of death itself. Naturally, such had sustained the young Zephyr as well.

The last ripe berries slipped easily down Africa's gulping throat and she lifted her face to find her companion polishing off those that were growing on the furthest side. Such succulent fruits as these were native only here, in the deepest most eastern brim of the Threshold. Often Africa had come to indulge herself in these parts where the pines shared their bed with shimmery birches and ashes. The sunlight fell through the leafy green canopy in dappling shafts and far below, Africa and Silas found mild respite from the burning intensity of Tallsun. Still the humidity was an ever present reminder of the season, and indeed sweat did darken the murky grey puddles of her coat.

"Are you full yet?" Africa asked tenderly, batting her eyelashes as she watched him slip between two prickled branches and up into the low-hanging bough of an old tree. It was an answer in itself, and satisfied, the young horse stepped away also- not quite full, but satisfied for the time being. The ebony Zephyr shook out his feathers contentedly and between soft purrs, began to preen feathers misplaced by the tangles of bush back into line.

For some time they meandered in a loose south-westerly direction, scurrying beneath the forest's sheltering arms whenever they were able. Few horses were braving the mid-day ferocity. When Africa spotted a strange Pegasus ahead of them, she stiffened, though not fearfully. The stallion's tail flicked with unmasked aggravation and for a second Africa thought twice about whether or not she should approach. She was no longer the foolish bubble of blissful energy and innocence she once was, and thought carefully about the scenario which might follow. A moment or so passed, and a gentle smile gripped the corners of her twitching mouth. "Hello." She called softly through the thick, muggy air, quite loud enough to spill across the stranger's location. She didn't doubt for a second that he had not spotted her already- there were so few around as it was.