It could not be mistaken that the confused mare cared for her home, her family and their trust. Already she had severed the relationship binding all of these, though it was still an internal conflict of which no other beyond Silas was aware. Undoubtedly the time was coming to disclose the events of her past to someone most trusted- but that time was not now, and she was not convinced that the Throat’s royalty suited as a shoulder to vent upon. Voodoo swam through her vortex of thoughts and her heart raced wildly, unable to manage the stress compounding upon its sensitive nature. Silently she looked to Midas, and the very presence of her mentor (he was that in a sense), the friend who had plugged the many holes of need and loneliness during her time here in Helovia offered that comfort she sought. He was her constant in a troublesome world madly changing.

“I fear I’m not so wise that I could answer that.” Her voice answered shakily and honestly before the tangle in her mind could reel it back from her parting lips; already her eyes were wandering the length of his honourable façade and she felt like a feeble child in his shadow. “I want to help him, and I have seen others who are beyond aid; far worse and without any lucidity. That is why I have hope.” A thought flashed through her mind then, one which had been planted as the most insignificant seed during her pained stay in the mists of the Edge. “I’ve heard rumour of a stallion who can heal the broken mind. I can’t remember a name though.” She felt the sudden weight of futility and wondered where she would be left standing if Voodoo could not be helped. The situation was enormous- far bigger than Africa trusted herself to be able to manage.

-

As a duty he remained while his beloved fled across the parched dunes of their home- she was safe, no harm could find her, surely.
Critical eyes moved from her vanishing figure, surveying thoroughly the long blood-red horn which spiralled stiffly from the very centre of his shadowy face, and he thought grimly about those just like him in the pocket below the mountains. When he had found her broken, beaten corpse rotting in the shadow of her depression, it was the horned horses like this one who had been closest; who had been there, so close, only to ignore her and pass by as though she were mere snow upon their slopes. It still angered him, still boiled his virtuous heart, but Africa had washed the memory from her mind and now mingled amongst them- though Silas could not tell the difference between those from the north and those who were of more noble intent. To him, they were all cruel and though he could not comprehend the mare’s immeasurable ability to forgive and forget, he withheld his resentment for her sake.

“Uhm.. go away, bird”… “Scram?”

The Zephyr’s beak clacked in response to the sound of the creature’s strange voice rising from below. He did not understand what was said, or the warning switch of his mane shroud ears and flapped unfalteringly above the rolling waves; eyes watching carefully all the while.
To him, on guard and quite occupied, little time seemed to pass them by- the horned beast slipped into the salty stew but appeared really to do little else than wallow there, perhaps in thought or maybe just uselessly passing the minutes. Silas exerted himself little, although he did hesitate and caw the second the stallion’s lips were lowered as though to drink.

-

Africa slid down the dune combing the beach clumsily, and noticed quickly that the tide had climbed far higher than where she had left it. Rattling nostrils and the soft, almost inaudible note of greeting drew her mate from his watch even before she had slowed and halted, and the Roc slipped quickly to meet her despite the voice of the stallion airing again, his chest purring with warm regard. The mare’s pale eyes embraced him briefly, and then continued into the surf to find Voodoo swimming, spluttering and scowling.
Initially her heart sank, dismayed by the first impression which would greet her Sultan, but she stiffened her waning confidence and offered a gentle smile towards her bathing friend. The red-nosed stallion waded out from his cool reside, a dishevelled unkempt mess, to meet them, and Africa reached with quivering nostrils to bump against the nearest part of him as her name left his lips. The tenderness was not lacking, though her nerves created a precarious wall over which she was struggling to climb.

She thought silently that if Voodoo was nearly as uncomfortable as she was, he was hiding it extraordinarily well. Her long-time friend addressed Midas with some ease and appropriateness; his manner mild and the confusion in his befuddling head hidden well from the meeting. For this Africa was relieved and pushed a smile into her transparent, bemused expression. Anxious eyes glanced between the two stallions- the black and white, fringed with shimmering beautiful gold, and the grulla who had seen better days.
The veteran warrior replied with courtesy- certainly more than the intruder upon his soil deserved. Africa listened in humble silence, the flimsy length of her tail licking with agitation one flank and then the other. For now she knew it was up to Voodoo to proffer himself; to sell and present his case with purpose. She hoped desperately that he wanted this fresh start and generous chance to belong, even more than she did.