The lonely silhouette of a black bird circled far above the jagged range of Threshold canopy, his path measured like the stalk of an aerial predator; an eagle with cunning, all-seeing eyes; a hawk with frighteningly sharp reflexes, a decoration in the otherwise vast, white-laced arc of blue which was his haven. Indeed the Zephyr shared these raptor qualities; his mind was clever too, calculating and shrewd- though throbbing behind a bone-plate breast, his heart was warm and complex and without the want to spill blood for a meal. He trailed the route of a horse far below, careful, beady-black eyes monitoring even the slightest shift in her direction so that she would not be alone; could not be vulnerable.

It was a one winged mare with a murky grey puddled canvas stretched tight across the swing and switch of unpadded bones- she was fit, in the prime of her life; a walking contradiction. Spread loosely across the short stretch of her back was a mat of feathers; varicoloured with countless shades of cloud-grey and intertwined white; fine tapered tips of the darkest midnight hue. The wing rocked lazily as she walked, dancing the unheard rhythm of her stride. There was no second limb, no left wing to balance her otherwise elegant physique- it had been stolen many seasons past, and the loss no longer haunted the quietly astute glimmer in her eye. It had been a painstakingly long and treacherous road, but the worst had been overcome.

Though not for a second did Silas lower his guard- she was as frail as the skeleton leaves scattered around the step of her hooves.

His swift gaze reached through the forest ahead of his gravity-stricken beloved. In her path there was another, and stern eyes grazed her form with meticulous carefulness- his presence unknown as his shadow flickered across the old flimsy tree tops. He had seen her before, a speck on the horizon; illuminated by the blazing sun’s light, soaring and through the heavens where his beloved belonged also; waltzing weightlessly with the delicate flossy columns. A horse of her kind, the avian had offered the flighted creature little consideration.

Now though, the stranger was standing as stagnant as the ancient forest around her, locked in limbo like they all were when they fell prey to the Threshold; lips parted towards the sky, voice ringing through the warm stillness of the eastern corridor- a plea perhaps, he could not understand; but his beloved answered swiftly with a softer call, a conservative answer that was as mellow as it was tender.

Silas dipped his grand black wingspan and descended with raptor speed through the spindly labyrinth of trees below.

-

Flared nostrils tested the air, the steaming atmosphere around her, for any trace of the stranger who had called out; top lip drawn back slightly to bare the off-white teeth of one who had only recently crossed the threshold into maturity. Her eyes sparkled curiously as her face lowered again; searching through the rib of shaggy, woody trees for the mare who she guessed was not far from the crude badger track she had been following. Long, heavy ears leaned forward attentively, plucking from the forest any stray stepping of another nearby; straining for the breath of she whose lonesome voice had beckoned for the presence of another.

Africa found her, diligent steps falling only a length or so short of the stranger’s location- a respectful distance that would not be invaded without invitation. The one-winged mare’s hot breath rattled in greeting as it slipped genially from her nose and a thoughtful expression had melded across the sweet pale grey femininity of a young, though tried face. “I heard your call.” She explained diplomatically, assessing the stature of the other for sign or signal that caution should be taken. There seemed to be little evidence of aggression though, no pinched features; no hostile ripple to the muscles lurking below the shimmery gold of her hide. The young grey smiled tenderly, only when she was satisfied no attack would be made and added- “I'm Africa.”

Silas arrived then too, opening his wings at the last opportunity to flutter and perch upon the sweaty fleck of his beloved’s sleek grey rump.

Dull skin trembled beneath sleek summer dapples; the tension exuded by the timid stranger absorbed instinctively by she who was alert and watchful. Pale yellowy eyes scanned the slim glade surrounding, but for the most part no other moved- not even the rustle of flamboyant forest birdlife. Ears flicked curiously, searching also, though returning always to settle on the golden Pegasus whose figure seemed so defenceless in the vast wilderness encasing her. Africa wanted to reassure her, to sooth the nerves which flinched frequently across her hide, but she could not find the source, was oblivious to the phobia marring the mind of the other.

From the distance she had waited, the young grey could see the twitch of lips, pregnant with verbal intent; appeal or worry. Africa watched them falter, and the silence which had formed between them both was as stifling as the heavy blanket of summer heat across her sloping shoulders. Vigilant eyes switched rapidly to find the form of another, a green accented stallion who she had not before seen, silhouetted suddenly motionless before the jagged tree line. He nodded civilly, and the grey offered the same gesture in return. Without delay he introduced himself as Solace, a name which Africa had not heard either. She smiled quietly where she lingered by the periphery but began to edge a little closer when she noted the quite apparent discomfort her winged kin in the presence of the male- because of his gender, his species, his odour; she could not tell yet.

The Oracle slid ever closer to the frightened mare, nares fluttering with warmth and compassion all the while. The fear was pungent, like a thick fog churning around her and Africa waded through valiantly before extending her gentle, pale face forward; empathy a glaze across her kindly expression. “Vanity… She cooed softly, recoiling her neck and drawing her skull away again. “… this is Helovia, the Threshold where all begin.” She paused deliberately to glance towards the green tinged stallion and smiled trustingly (foolishly, but readily offering him the benefit of the doubt). “You don’t need to be frightened, you are quite safe in our company.” Of course the statement was a brave presumption but she concealed it well, and stepped away, closer to Solace as though to prove his worth of character.

He did not seem crude, rough or arrogant- his position suggested a creature who was patient, not overbearing, and that was what Africa was counting on to sway the emotion of the golden Pegasus.

“I have come to offer you a home- surrounded by the feathered like ourselves, a sanctuary, for the frail, damaged or ambitious alike. My family lives by Dragon’s Throat in the south.” The grey paused then thoughtfully and shifted slightly to invite Solace to speak- she was courteous and reasonable, and knew well the routine of recruitment.

‘The Foothills…’

Wilting ears stiffened towards the white-faced Equine at the unexpected mention of the territory; is homeland. It was nestled at the foot of the large north-eastern mountain range which shouldered a great spiritual field shroud ordinarily in cloud; where ruthless Unicorns ambushed unsuspecting Pegasi.
The only time she had flown so far into the cooler climate was during her first Tallsun in Helovia, and Africa had passed overhead with still the gift of a glorious wingspan. More recently, Midas had spoken of those who rested in that land- they sought friendship with her kin, and Africa’s cordiality softened still further towards Solace. Although he could not have realised the recollection expanding in her mind, the young Oracle smiled all the more warmly for him and the still infantile relationship between their families.

Sparkling cream eyes shifted solicitously back to the golden girl and storm-grey lips peeled back to reveal the slightly stained rows of matured, well used teeth. “If you were to accompany either Solace or myself, we all would surely meet again.” She explained gushingly, though her tone was still quite naturally and mellow. “Just recently our herds have spoken about friendship.” It was a vastly generous overstatement, given that she herself had been one most opposed to the extension of such a swift bond after the invasion. Now though, perched before a demure and respectable personality from the Foothill’s midst, Africa felt more compassionate and forthcoming than she had about a group of nameless, faceless horses.

Perhaps accompanying Shadow to visit these souls had merit.

Vanity took her time to address both Africa and then Solace respectively. It was a welcome distraction from the terror which had lathered the beautiful creature throughout the chance meeting. When the time came for the dappled Oracle to elaborate about the Throat, she did so after a moment’s pause to think. It seemed that the golden Pegasus knew far more than even Africa had when her hooves had fallen across the Threshold so long ago.

“Dragon’s Throat is a vast lake in the middle of the desert. It harbours life in an environment that would otherwise be too brutal to stand.” She began, taking her cue from the silence fallen between the friendly trio. “Our herd pays homage to the magnificent God of the Sun, proud and powerful. At the head of our family are two of the finest warriors in all of Helovia, the Gallant and Gaucho...” She paused then to allow the information to be absorbed; reflecting while she did on the true wealth of her family, their steadfastness and incredible resilience against the worst Helovia had been able throw. “We are a sanctuary; a home to any soul troubled, wounded or ambitious, though primarily Pegasus build our numbers. Our ranks and minds are open to those wishing to forge for themselves a legacy, though some join for the simple luxury of life in the luscious oasis.”

Again silence devoured the trail of her delicate, sweet voice and Africa propped back comfortably to learn from Solace, his interpretation and perspective of the Foothills.