The hour grew ever later, and Africa felt the weight of her strayed hooves compounding across her shoulders- although she was in no hurry, and no business called for her attendance, she was a vulnerable creature who felt safest when belted by the wall of her almighty home. Silas was yet to return, she could not find his thoughts at the moment, nor figure his intention for leaving, but while he was from her sight all the same, the young mare missed him greatly. Her composure was held carefully in check for the lass who emanated the very essence of youth and vitality itself; she stole the forefront of Africa’s mind and contentedly the Oracle listened to the words of the small bay Equine.

A smile rose to comfort the shameful droop which forced Micha’s skull to lower, and she giggled kindly should the gesture have been missed by also falling eyes. “Magic courses through this land, young one; to notice though, your mind needs always to be open.” Africa could see that the girl was eager to see such enchantment, to perhaps feel the arc of power surge through her own veins, but with power came dangers untold, and responsibility beyond such a young soul’s development. Still the Zephyr did not return, and with his absence, the art he embodied was out of their reach. “I can’t tell when Silas will be back.” She said with a touch of sympathetic remorse.

The little bay spoke again and Africa touched her nose confidently against her, penetrating the pained breath that had escaped her tiny nostrils.

“I do have one of his feathers though, and it bears a different sort of magic.” The dappled story-teller’s eyes began to sparkle with intrigue as a thought manifested in her intelligent mind. She craned her neck heavily to the left, reaching through the cover of darkness with twitching lips to remove one of the slimmest of her worthless flight feathers- it was as ebony as those cloaking her mate, equally as delicate and would be quite beautiful beneath the gloss of the sun. Perfect in length, and for the purpose of her idea, Africa plucked it with a hidden wince and turned back to Micha with it clenched securely in her teeth. Carefully she extended it towards the filly to take for herself.

“This... his, feather, will attract the spirit of an unborn Zephyr to its keeper.” It was a lie, yes. But the girl seemed just as credulous, enthusiastic and ambitious as the Oracle herself had been in her younger years. The ploy she offered certainly appeared (the way it was given), plausible enough to believe. “I want you to have it.” She paused, tilting her head slightly as a second thought grew. “But, it will only be so magical while its holder’s heart is filled with optimism.” Indeed Micha’s was, she believed, and imagined such a stipulation might prevent that brilliant attribute from fading prematurely. Africa was a firm believer that if you wanted fortune and happiness enough, it would embrace you generously- and quite contrastingly, that if your soul grew dark, such grace would be withheld. Really she was living proof. “Yes.” She said conclusively at last, in response to the question asked, “Now your bonded is looking for you.”