Far past the forests, and out beyond the fields,
Nestled in her glory, just down by the sea.

Africa had been rehearsing the very same lyrics over and over in her mind, but her effort was so far wasted, as her creative little ballad had been furthered no more. She flopped heavily left with a ((thud)) into the cooler sand which lay in deep shade by the great lake’s lapping edge, sighing dramatically as she did. Silas yawned lethargically at her from where he roosted contentedly in the low fork of a thorny palm frond. All day they had been trying to assemble some form of song or story, just a gift for their home- as little prior to this day, had they been solicitous enough to offer.
It was nice he thought though, to simply lounge by the rippling Throat itself, well sheltered from the burning desert sun by all the luscious sub-tropical foliage which thrived here. More often than not, the pair were meandering about doing one thing or another, with little regard for the heat and the havoc it played on their mortal bodies.

“Ok! Wait… I think I have more.” The reclined dappled mare announced aloud, one more time, throwing herself upright to again rest across her folded legs. Africa cleared her throat officially, and began…

“Far past the forests, and down beyond the fields,
Nestled in her glory, just there by the sea.
The desert sun burns fiercest, formidable and true,
And deep within its bronzed heart, life thrives beyond belief.

A deep spring lake does nourish; it is the lifeblood there,
They call it Dragon’s Throat, though few have dared to seek.
The folk who call it home, are hardy you will see,
Wealthy and respected, beneath their shadow, foes are weak.”

Africa snorted with unreserved delight, tossing her pale, feminine face into the air triumphantly. It was still only a slither of the ballad she hoped to make really, but for the time being she relished the pride and sense of utter achievement which swelled through her core.
“What did you think?” She asked the little Zephyr, turning her sparkling eyes hopefully towards his lofty direction. Silas looked down at her as warmly as an avian could possibly, and clucked a sort of approval- though his soul; his empathetic heart told her quite effortlessly that he enjoyed it. Africa lay herself back down again, gently this time, and closed her placid amber eyes as she began to imagine the scenes in the verses she had chosen to describe her beloved home with.

The Throat was a bustling hive of activity that day; it seemed that the lake was quite the place to be- and rightly so, given the brutality of their unforgiving homeland. Africa found even the indirect company of her family comforting as she relaxed, in peace, though never would she shun any who wandered over to chat.