It had been so long since altitude had washed away from her the cares strewn across the surface of the earth; she could not remember the rush of brittle air through wind-stroked feathers, nor the ecstasy pumped through throbbing veins with each powerful wing thrust. So many memories had been shoved into the far back recesses of her mind, and with them were swept much of those grandest. She never considered the new level of her own fitness, and how it had been so different when the draughts were the highways through life- she failed unfortunately to realise that her companion might suffer upon legs which were not born to hike such huge distances; across often rough and treacherous ground like Helovia was built upon. She remained oblivious as Vanity’s face offered little to betray her fatigue, instead exuding the delight of freedom and excitement. About this glee, the one-winged Oracle was overwhelmingly pleased.

The young mare’s mouth was parched, her coat tingling hot, even as they strode with their target in site. There was little which could be done though to ease the building tiredness, the biting pang of hunger and raspy thirst until they fell upon the vast stretch of lake; and Africa clung tightly to the thought of that- it compelled her forward, like a rainforest sapling striving ever upwards for long lost sunlight. Vanity’s stomach grumbled unhappily as the thought of dinner flooded her mind, and she turned with a smirk and a light-hearted chortle. “There is plenty to fill that hole.” She offered offhandedly, easily.
“I’m famished too…” The day had flown by so quickly, and she thought of that only meal she had indulged herself with, at the milky crack of dawn by the lower rim of the Threshold. The grass, foliage and browse in their luscious sanctuary were unlike anywhere else in Helovia- it was sweeter, richer and far more wholesome. It never ceased to amaze the lore-loving creature, how such abundant life could flourish in the harshest of environments.

All of a sudden the jovial palomino by her side lost control of her sheer happiness and leapt forward through a bright cry, churning hooves slicing through waves of soft, supple sand. It was absolutely something Africa might have done a year or so back, and she smiled thoughtfully without delving into the ruins of her past. She was not so playful like once she had been; forced to mature and learn the art of masked emotion- perhaps such restraint; that willpower suited the role she filled in the herd these days better than the foolish child who had toyed with flower prisoners and magic mushrooms.
A light smile slipped across her stormy-grey, whiskered maw and the grey pushed forward into a brisk, undulating canter; skilfully ploughing through the rolling dunes. She enjoyed quite undeniably the playful antics of her friend, it was a far cry from the frail wreck of a mare she had first stumbled across, earlier that day.

Smile and the whole world will smile with you...

It was a fact, and the unbridled mirth of Vanity was as contagious as winter flu. Africa watched contentedly as the other bucked and cavorted like she was a mere filly again, rocking to rest across her lean, weary right side. Such elation had not warmed the grey through for a long time and quietly she watched the display. Only when the flaxen haired girl trotted back, throwing forward the offer to play did Africa loosen her poise- and still it was perhaps not as dramatically as Vanity might have wished. She just simply did not have that brazen bliss to draw from any longer. Regardless she tried, and launched into a ploughing gallop that could have been easily matched by the other similarly sized mare- she did not wait, though and threw a loose, teasing buck out behind as she pulled away ahead. Undoubtedly they would fall like weather-beaten children through the first fronds of the oasis- without style and without grace. A least their hearts would be pounding for the peace they had discovered today.

Trembling legs staggered into the lush vegetation, but they were not allowed to rest, Africa forced them on until red-stained hooves plunged her exhausted, heat-stressed weight headlong into the crystal, cool water of the Throat. At last she stopped, sinking her body below the tranquil surface so that she could soak and wash the burden of the day from her lax, failing muscles. Tender eyes reached out across the embankment to make sure Vanity was close behind. “The perfect end to a long day.” She sighed with a relieved smile drawing tightly up the corners of her wrinkled mouth. Then, as the first stars began to twinkle far above, she dipped her lips to the water and began to drink.

Neither sadness nor resentment emerged in the gentle, sweet-natured heart of the dappled one-winged mare as her friend leapt between exaggerated dove wings into the dry desert air. Africa had no trouble celebrating the freedom and joy which the gift of able wings bestowed, and watched with a romantic gaze from her icy bath as Vanity swept across the calm lake over her head. She had never allowed herself the intemperance of wallowing in pity; of mourning and disappointment, when realistically, there were benefits granted with the cost of her flight. Before her grounding, Africa had always loved lore and the natural world with the whole of her heart, but never had she truly appreciated its existence; the intricate beauty of the world around her up close and personal. Only when she had been forced to journey afoot did she realise that the finer detail was so easily unnoticed by her winged kind. It offered her a new perspective, appreciation and understanding of life- not only her insignificant subsistence through it. That brought hopeful distraction to an otherwise devastating situation.

To Africa, living without her birthright did not seem so terrible.

Above her, though not directly, Vanity had closed her wings suddenly; mischievously, and her weight plunged instantly hind first into the still blue reflection of the lake. Even though her backwards attempt at a dive was not overly near to the wading grey mare, a wave of glimmering, wet crystal sliced through the air, washing just like frothing ocean waves about her semi-submerged frame. So too did sparkling droplets spray about her face, beading across the fine pale grey hairs which dressed her cheerful expression. When the sodden palomino paddled across, Africa leaned across to bump her saturated lips against her friend’s cheek. The other asked casually, if she missed her wing; if the young Oracle ever wished it was still clenched across the rise and fall of her ribbed barrel. The curiosity of her new-herd sister was not distasteful by any means and Africa shrugged indifferently before answering. “I only miss flying when it’s time to come home.” She laughed freely, lifting her chin into the half-light of the evening. “I have my life...” She added in time, well after the sound of her mirth had fizzled away. It was a comment that had two meanings really; one for the sake of her endearing companion- because there could easily be worse to lose than feathers. The other was more intimate, the flicker of a hidden memory; of the frailty of life, and how easily it could be drawn from a body forever.

The conversation turned, and Africa followed it attentively and thoughtfully. As Vanity glanced around, exclaiming her contentment and delight at finding herself home, her shrewd pale glaze wandered also, soaking in the splendour of all that surrounded. “Your duty?” She teased, scoffing and jerking her head away. Quickly she followed with a warm smile- the grey had been much the same in the first moments of her arrival here and Midas had allowed her a night to settle despite her yearning to work. Africa really had been all the better for that night alone. “Well, whatever path you choose can wait until you’ve settled and are comfortable. There are five classes in Dragon’s Throat, (or four...?) the healers, warriors, crafters, spies and those who study the lore and magic of this world, like myself. Yes five. She paused and nodded to herself approvingly. You’re welcome to speak with any of those who are the head of their class while you strive to find that which suits you most. They are all fascinating roles, and as important as each other. I thought I would study to become one of the herd’s Shamans, but the Sun Lord is much wiser than my foolish mortal desires.” She smiled warmly, hoping that the influx of information was not too much to comprehend.

“If it is lore, music and understanding that appeals most, you will certainly spend much time with me. But you cannot rush the process- it takes much time to truly appreciate the different responsibilities holding this kingdom together.” Again she paused, but this time it was her own stomach which grumbled sourly through the water which was lapping gently again by her flanks. “Let’s walk, there are late palm fruits still to be eaten not far from here.” Africa thrust her waterlogged mass from the waterline, scrambled through the yielding sand up the embankment and onto the more packed soil above. There she turned to wait for Vanity who perhaps would not hold so quickly the mastery of such difficult travel through sand. Afterwards she continued speaking softly as the oasis around them began to settle for the night- she wondered offhandedly where Silas was, but was not gravely concerned. The zephyr was more than able to find his way home.

“If you like, I will take you to speak with other herd members tomorrow. That should be fairly easy going I think. When you figure out what it is that you would like to do in the Throat, you will probably be sent to complete different quests to build your abilities.” So much had been said, and Africa fell silent so that Vanity could process all that had been given- it seemed to the perceptive grey that her friend was interested in all that the Oracle served as, though while she was keen to begin lessons of her own, she wanted to make sure the choice was educated and personal.