From the silk sheathed back of his beloved, the startled Zephyr who was her constant company fluttered, unsettled from the comfortable dip in her back by the fire’s sudden white flare. Small round eyes reflected the burning spectacle with both dislike and discomfort- fire was not a bird’s ally, nor had any length of time passed yet that could mellow his aversion to the sacred flame of his friend. There was a naked tree reaching with gnarled, hopelessly dead limbs into the blackened, star-strewn arc above and that would inevitably become Silas’s roost beyond the playful lick of flames, night after night, as the mare he loved learned to worship, and tend her temple.

Africa too was taken aback, though after the heatless glow which had enveloped her that afternoon during the herd’s most recent meeting, she was not startled. Pale, insecure eyes watched with amazement as the roused fire seemed to transform, to shed its frightening heat and again dissipate. Her long, weighted ears swayed uncertainly through the swollen tangle of grey mane, listening in vain (she couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous) for the burning feature to speak to her- certainly she did not expect that which began to grow from within it.

Quite astonishingly, both Silas whose wary gaze only narrowed further, and Africa witnessed the Diviner’s fire birth a horse; a stallion- a God. The one wing dressing the slim right flank of her barrel fidgeted, the feather’s adorning it ruffling and prickling, as she felt the awe of the situation compel her backwards a step. The strange glare of his white pupil-less eyes provoked her skin to tremble uncontrollably; it was far more disturbing than that of her most trusted Sultan. With dutiful determination smothering the timidness in her heart, she sought their midst, and then the Sun God stepped from his fort of flames; eyes moulting the sheer white so that a far more comfortable liquid gold rimmed pupil was found.

She smiled immediately, awkwardly, because she could think of nothing else to greet him with given the sudden limp nature of her tongue; but that smile faded into something more intimidated the moment he began to speak. The Oracle nodded helplessly, like perhaps a tiny lamb might in the face of an enormous regal lion, completely overwhelmed by the presence before her. “Yes sir...” she blurted swiftly, more officially than anything her casual mind had ever set loose before. Captivated eyes watched unwaveringly his beautiful twice horned face as it turned a dazzling gaze across her; she did not realise right away that which had caused him to lower his great skull reproachfully- by now she was quite used to her own lack of appendage, and spared it no second’s grace.

Her heart did sink though; she felt its terrified murmur in the frog of her hoof.

Without delay she answered, realising how dissatisfactory a one-winged Pegasus probably seemed to a deity so grand and deliciously perfect in every single way- how could he not have noticed before her appointment though?

“Sir, I lost my wing as punishment when I trespassed against the direction of my herd and my leaders. It was a fair price to pay for the prudence now in my mind.” It was maybe only the second time she had spoken of the unfaithfulness (no matter how involuntary it had been), to anyone other than Silas- of course nobody else knew so much about that fateful moment in her history. “May it be a reminder to those with foolish intentions, that treason is a crime.” Although the souvenir taken by those ghoulish Unicorns in the Basin brought terrible disability and revolting disfigurement to the kind-hearted dappled mare, their memory kept her heart and mind all the wiser. One day, Africa would fly again- though not in the form of her ancestors; her kin.

Africa