Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
The sharp whoop of an owl echoed through the eerie stillness of the forest, and thudding wing beats followed immediately after. Africa did not often wander through the dark cloak of early night- she preferred morning, the hours before dawn, because the promise of light did not seem so far away. It was not that she disliked the darkness, or the creatures that thrived below its conservative veil; she held contempt for no one actually- Africa was not afraid. She was more than fond of the stir of daytime life- of the chorus of jovial birds and the banter of playful parrots; the company of lizards who baked themselves across the deserts brutal scape. In fact she thrived on the hum of activity and the warm caress of sunlight.

Quite opposite was the inclination of her raven-hued Zephyr whose nature was to be nocturnal; to hunt prey, and to rarely skim the face of the earth (none of which he had actually accomplished, or even adopted). Silas’s distant cousins were the great elusive and mythical creatures who travelled an endless path around the globe- far higher than the naked eye could see. He too was a being born of magic and mystery, and nestled across the point of her mane-shrouded withers, a trail of fine, glittery stars descended from his swarthy-back form, down to either side of Africa’s slim, shadowy girth.

Africa watched the dimly-lit girl carefully; holding the small puddle of her collapsed form tenderly within her patient gaze. Silas by then had noticed the presence of another beating heart- a deer, small and speckled with translucent white; huddled across long, lean curled legs. The creature was unmoving as the two horse species conversed- but its wide, shining eyes were burrowing into his own.

Cypress began to speak; to answer the one-winged Pegasus’ concerned question, and Africa’s eyes narrowed, relief failing to flood her heart and satisfy her that all was, and would continue to be, well. The young Unicorn spoke of the loss of her family- something which the mare could not exactly relate too, but she had experienced loss before; had watched first-hand the life slip away with her herd-sister’s final breath. A shudder crept up her flinching spine and Silas turned from the deer, to peer warily at Cypress- he would not risk the wellbeing of his Bonded’s mental health after such an arduous battle had been previously won, and any who threatened that health were met with a guarded glower. Her heart skipped as she recalled briefly the trauma which had been late Orangemoon, but swiftly she doused the surge of emotion.

"Alright…" She said simply after the tone of Cypress’s final words had crumbled away into the cooling night air. She did not agree that someone who appeared to be so young; seemed so sweet and so innocent, was safe, exploring the vast, often punishing regions of Helovia alone- brave and thrilling yes, possibly. But Africa was all too aware of the dangers which hungered for the downfall of such rash purity that was youth. She sighed quietly, and then smiled. "Cypress, I am from Dragon’s Throat, almost directly south from here. It falls to the southern side of Helovia’s burning heart, and we are a haven of sorts- secure and welcoming of any who mean us no harm. You are welcome to visit me there whenever you like. Ask for me by the border and you will be granted entry." Africa studied the girl’s face in earnest, but she knew well the determination which compelled her; that which lurked behind the shimmery green of her eyes. "Should loneliness ever tarnish your travels, or exhaustion weary your body, come to me and I will care for you."
The young dappled mare rocked her weight then and settled it squarely across each of her fine, long legs. The time had come for Silas and herself to continue home. "It is late dear, I must continue on my way. Remember what I have said." Africa stepped closer to Cypress, lowering her long, pale face once again to rest her lips affectionately between the girl’s dark, brown ears. There she planted a kiss; a symbol to seal a heartfelt promise. "Sleep well…" She whispered and turned, leaving through the gnarled, creepy forest which the child had chosen as home.