After a disappointingly unsuccessful trip through the Threshold, Africa began the long, arduous journey south, shouldering the burden of heavy humidity; a rich blanket of late-afternoon sunlight drawing beady, glistening sweat out across her curved back. It was not often that she admitted defeat, returning home to the lush sanctuary of her oasis home, without fresh company and as the daylight began to distort and darken into the opulent hues of sunset, she passed through the final scattering of the old shaggy redwoods that marked the forest's southern-most rim. Silas who had been travelling between the lofty branches of those trees, well above the path of his beloved, fluttered downwards to alight atop the dappled mare's withers- his most favoured position, when he felt little compelled to fly.

Quietly she peered outwards, still concealed somewhat by the rough wood growing to either side of her position, and scouted the region ahead- the vast expanse of meadowland, noting with a satisfied puff that the few horses who grazed through the long, sun-dried grasses were apparently inert. Oftentimes, as she crossed this area nowadays quite unable to fly, she found the locals to be temperamental, needy or sick; and while her heart remained open, and her empathy strong, on this occasion she didn't feel so much like pandering to the ego of another grim soul who could not help themself.

Initially her steps were tentative as she emerged into the open space, but as she walked with a reserved hunch to her posture, her mood and manner began to lighten. All around Silas and herself, the dim cloak of evening began to wash away the vibrant, final light and without the sun's face smiling down upon them, her body temperature began to lower gradually. The day had been typically long and hot- true to the season, and the respite was a welcomed treat to the hot and bothered mare.
Loosely her path continued on southward, though she was inclined to visit the creek to freshen herself for the vexing section which slithered close by the blazing heart of the country- and so detoured, arriving well into the evening. In silence she dipped her dark, grey lips to taste to cool, sweet water. Eagerly, Silas swept from his mount and comfortably beside the mare's lowered face, fluttered in- deep enough only to saturate the fluffy black bloomers about his scaly black thighs. He did not bathe for long, shaking the water from his raven feathers in a light spray, before lifting into the air to hover by her- a guardian.

"Excuse me…"

The suddenness of the voice caused Africa to leap away from the water's shimmering edge. So engrossed had she been in savouring the loveliness of her drink, that she had not heeded the gentle stirring of her Zephyr friend's voice- calling to her softly through the darkening, warm air. Swiftly she turned to face the stallion, though it was a smile which greeted him- pleasant and hospitable. He continued then, asking about an arch, to which her face tilted thoughtfully. Her eyes were readily guided by his gesturing north, though even while she paused to consider her travels and all that she had seen, nothing remotely similar to an arch came to mind. Silas dipped lower off to one side of them- still above their heads, neutral to the presence of the stranger because his beloved was not worried.

"An arch you say…?" She repeated, smiling apologetically through clenched teeth. Africa had no idea where the dim fudge coloured stallion was talking about, but she gathered from the general direction he proffered, that it was somewhere close by to the Basin- the pit where Pegasus blood stained the snow. About as north as possible "I'm afraid I have not seen such a landmark during my travels." She answered, shaking her head gently as she spoke. A misty trail of glittering, tiny stars was beginning to spill from the back of the hovering avian nearby (the mystical veil was constantly there of course, just not so visible to the naked eye while the brightness of day outshone it), and Africa glance that way as it caught her eye. "I am Africa," the young, gentle mare introduced herself warmly, "and this is Silas." Taking a moment to wipe her bristly storm-grey lips upwards along an outstretched foreleg, she took an opportunity to shuffle a little closer towards her company- respectfully so; not in an overbearing, overly confident fashion.