The descent out of the rugged mountain range and the highest, roughest plateau there was somewhat easier than the arduous climb up. The brisk air was bathed in white moisture; plumes of thick cloud streamed behind the moving mare as she passed from the midst of one and into another, dampness clinging to the sleek green-grey silken cloak which slipped lazily about the switch of her swinging hips. Precarious at times, rubble and loose, scattered stones slipped like smooth marbles beneath her wary tread, and Africa’s ears flickered uneasily as shrewd eyes sought the safest passage down the cliff-side trail.

Evening closed in its greedy shadow upon the countryside- and should the peaks not have been shroud so densely in cloud, Africa might have taken a moment to pause and gaze out upon a twilight world, bathed in eerie hues and dulling lights. She found not the opportunity and remained unaware of the world settling to rest below. The sun she knew was sunk, somewhere to the west and she wondered quickly if it would be safer to craft a makeshift nest (as most Pegasus preferred to sleep in beds, whether treetop, cliff-side or simply nestled in the grass), in the Heavenly Fields not far from the clatter of her measured step. The idea of struggling down the track remaining under the cold, concealing breath of night time did not appeal to her at all.

It was decided, and when she stumbled left at last, out across the sturdy plateau which she had visited earlier that day- and few times over the year past, a relieved breath was purged from the pulse of her lungs. Silas, far more adapted to the dark being a nocturnal creature, glided towards her slowly and gracefully, his shimmering star-speckled feathers blending with the first few materialising to smile down from the heavens. Africa greeted him warmly, her unbridled affection forcing her hindquarters to coil and balance so that she could rise and honour his arrival in a half-rear- fluttering nostrils purring her delight.

Here in the harsh mountain trails, few plants were able to adapt and thrive (even less were well enough as autumn dulled their spirits, to bear fruit worth eating), and Africa had relied on the nearly year old Zephyr’s frequent trips away to forage- eating only when he returned with food. Her stomach rumbled restlessly and she dipped her lips eagerly to sample the lean spread which had fallen from his sharp beak across the patchy grass by her hooves.

In the half-light the one-winged Oracle could see the gently billowing sea of grasses which stretched the whole way across the sky-field. The same breeze which stroked their tall wispy heads rippled the cloak which hung limply below each of her flanks; draped loosely around the relaxed slump of her shoulders. The tranquillity was a far cry from the first of her Helovian traumas- when the Gyspy stallion had tried to pluck as a prize for himself, one of her treasured feathers. Africa drew a deep meditative breath and stepped farther from the path, continuing until she could bear the temptation to graze no longer; eagerly she sank her face into the swishing ocean, favouring the newest, sweetest growth over the old and weathered.

Some time passed; the infrequent, lonely echo of wolves stirred Africa to glance around her often, to survey the area which was so far away from her homeland and the defence offered there. The predators were perhaps miles away, trekking through the wilderness perhaps still further north where she had heard the land opens up into tundra far more unforgiving than the heat choked desert of the south. Silas rumbled quietly, perched across her back; sharp talons woven through the weave of her silk cloth for aided balance. His eyesight was keen in the darkness, when his beloved’s failed and the dutiful Zephyr kept tireless vigil to ease her mind.

The sudden ruffle of his feathers and shift of minor weight upon her drew the young grey’s attention from the grass- straining eyes pinning upon the small looming silhouette of another not far away. With the milky finger-nail moon shedding slight light, Africa could see enough to figure that the other was in fact a child; a foal, and she wondered with amassing concern why one so young and frail should be roving alone through the night. Cautiously she waited for her bonded to scout the vicinity for a parent or guardian, but the shimmering avian’s search turned up no sign of any other. Africa snorted softly through the cool damp air, just so loud that it might rouse the focus of her minor company.