They tell me I'm too young to understand
They say I'm caught up in a dream
The rush of blood, flooded with intoxicating adrenaline that blurred her ability to defy impulsiveness, began to dull almost immediately after her unusually brazen burst of attack fell short. Really, the failure came as little surprise given the placidness of her nature and inability to fight- at all. Pathetically inexpert legs stumbled as the weight of Dalibor collided with a grunt into the blue mare first, skilfully, and in a less than elegant fashion Africa’s sweating body toppled to the side and clear of the stew of steaming bodies. The green lipped stallion’s spindly horn was swishing forward through the air also, not hard to miss, but like Africa- probably not for lack of skill, but something more senseless, he missed his target also.

Gathering herself quietly off to the side she had fallen to, the one-winged mare paused to recover her breath, wearily watching the unusual, unpredictably passionate group through one pale eye, peeking from beneath the soggy mass of forelock. She fluffed the feathers dressing her wing, unable to realign those which now jutted from the mass uncomfortably, but more than unwilling to lower her guard after the other Pegasus’s unwarranted attack. Silas fluttered downwards, open talons gripping delicately across the murky expanse of her back and stretched carefully to alleviate her awkwardness, and preen the wing for her.

Almost immediately Africa felt horribly, overwhelmingly guilty about her ambush. It was not something she would ordinarily have sought to achieve; even thought to endorse. Her regretfully throbbing heart wanted to comfort and tend to the other out-numbered mare, who by then had hauled herself out of the vegetation to spread an ominous glower (of sorts), across the trio. The young grey concealed the thought though, as if it were a laughable weakness, a disability that would degrade her in the face of these others. She knew shrewdly that she was the weakest link among them- although the drugged clown was not particularly intimidating in that condition.
Resenting only herself, Africa’s eyes buried themselves spinelessly behind a veil of convenient obscurity; the thick, weight of swinging forelock, the expression numb and void.

Still she was oblivious to the blue’s reasoning; still she drew a blank when she tried to understand.

Dalibor’s voice rose again, the element of demand unmistakable as it spilt like liquid hot lava into the air, and down across the churned up soil below them all. Africa was the first to speak- against her better judgement. Her voice was smooth and calm, though now it lacked the cheerful confidence which had begun the meeting between them. “We are not herd mates." She revealed. “Actually, she and I have not met before now." The blue magical mare had turned to leave, spitting across the ground revoltingly to push the point she had made to conclude her argument. Quickly, Africa called to her hopefully (ignorantly)- “I think you have me mixed up with someone else." She prayed gravely that the other mare was not a part of the Asylum or the Edge (not even the Foothills)- the dapple grey could not imagine her attempted assault on one of her families allies being received terribly well.