Silas clucked quietly enjoying the tuneless rhythm and muttering sound of shifting syllables. His dark gaze spilt devotedly across the illuminated mare as she poked and prodded at the fire she had become so fond of. Naturally he was not fond of the licking, hungry flames which illuminated their new bed- instinct caused his wariness, the threat to his delicate, glorious plumage (and hers) preventing him from nearing its radiating warmth. He was contented enough, clutched to the old creaking bough above, much more so than when they had sheltered for so long below the cold, burnt overhang of limestone cliff. Of course he would never admit that the den was not to their combined avian needs; Silas adored Africa immensely, perhaps more than his love of flying, and he adapted himself according to the needs and desires of her heart.

The gentle hum of her lingering voice was soon melted into the snapping, cracking fire. The young Oracle watched steadily as the fire gorged itself on her modest offering leaving naught but wildly dancing ashes, burped slovenly into the cool autumn desert air around her. She smiled, pleased- assuming quickly that the Sun God thought well of her efforts because they had not been flung out or any such thing. That was when another horse, a stranger to Africa, barrelled by and pressed himself brazenly close to the holy flame. She gasped, startled by the sudden and unexpected gush of wind roused his black form against her and staggered from his presence.

A warning cry erupted from the gnarled tree above, its piercing sound slicing through the otherwise silent surroundings. Silas was leaning forward irritably, his neck stretched downwards to better glare at the interloper who had destroyed the serenity of the moment- more so though, unsettled the relaxed pace of his beloved’s gentle heart. Another sharp cry echoed through the blackening atmosphere, though it was shorter; the shrill tail not so penetrating.
Africa, although surprised, was not so hasty like the assertive reaction of her Zephyr friend. Pale yellow eyes searched the stranger tenderly as he turned to notice her, expression all the while inviting and patient; and she smiled for him too as the flickering firelight brightened her pale grey complexion. The stallion, having turned from the glow remained shadowy and difficult to discern. The moonlight illuminated the slow flap of his silvery mane though, as the steady breeze stroked its lovely length.

“You are welcome here…” she said kindly, stepping so that her bending neck could retrieve the make-shift prong which had been dropped in the flurry of his arrival. “I am Africa, and this is the Diviner’s Fire which I tend. It's a place for our entire herd to pay their respects to the Lord of Dragon’s Throat as they wish.” She was not particularly sure whether the swarthy stallion was actually a ‘brother’, but given that was blessed with wings she presumed the fact boldly. “We haven’t met before, are you new?” As her words fluttered from her curled lips, Africa ventured back nearer to the fire- inviting her company with a Pegasus-like wing gesture as she went.