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.