That night, cast in the unusually vast orange glow of the moon, Africa studied Silk both curiously and admiringly while they talked. He was so remarkable; so unlike any other Pegasus or Unicorn she had come across before (Equines were the lesser species- she was not racist or judgemental, but fact was fact), he inspired her heart into wild fluttering and the twist of her ever searching mind craved to know more about him. The black sheen of his lean masculine face captured the essence of that warm light embracing them, veiled murkily in the moon-wash white forelock which carried through too, all the way along his long curved crest in long silken waves. Three tassels clung to that flaxen sea beyond his ears; blood red feathers which were a marvellous replica she thought of the very creature she had been born to embody. How could she not be fascinated, rendered utterly powerless but to crave that which spilt from his crude black lips.

The wings which tucked to each side of him were also a stark contrast to normalcy; to the gift of profuse feathering; the relationship of their kind to the avian race. Pale eyes wandered quickly to hug her love, her mate; the Zephyr who remained none too relaxed upon her light-touching robe- indeed they were a far cry from similar and Africa wondered if it was this unlikeness which made their ability to mingle so difficult. She knew that a great many winged creatures forged the myriad bloodlines flowing through the vast, distant Pegasus population, but truly she could not recall actually meeting those elusive other types. Where plumes of mottled quills were thatched into her own delicately built wing, the stallion’s glorious set was naked, ugly even; bald. She was drawn to their uniqueness, even if the thought of them soured the sweet taste of her saliva.

Her eyes recoiled suddenly; Africa dipped her face so that in that moment her chin was tucked most coyly against the fleshy cushion of her grey breast. So wild was her imagination; her inquisitive, adventurous mind in secret, that she had lost herself to thought with unruly eyes roving unbridled and shamelessly all over him. Velvety nostrils rustled quietly as she very discreetly fought against contact between their eyes, ultimately shocked within herself, and embarrassed that her manners had been so lax. So much time had passed since the last time he had spoken and she realised with a start that she had followed his lead involuntarily from the slurp of the water’s throat.

“You cannot undo the tattoo of experience.” Her meek, soft voice mumbled in response to words offered, a welcome mask for the slip of her modesty and attention. Understanding quickly the meaning behind Silk’s quite gentle statement (for in recent times, her lack of ability seemed to press more and more weight through each conversation held- possibly part the reason for her subtle retreat from social activity), the Oracles trembling lips sought the vivid, ugly pink scar tissue staining her shoulder. Already feathers were sprouting in vain around the site of the empty socket; a futile attempt by her body to maintain a legacy which was also her robbed birthright.

The sadness of that morbid event had mostly passed- left to the corridors of history; they lay deep below the earth, still lower than the sucking roots of the lavish Deep Forest due north, where she had been rebuilt. That grim reality did not haunt her so much nowadays; a life bound by the primitive shackles of gravity seemed as natural as a fish swimming in water. Still, as Silk’s crimson gaze warmed her hide, a deep inescapable remorse began to swamp her mellow heart with grief so far untold to her fellow brethren. “A fool’s venture leads to no glory.” Africa offered to him hopefully, almost willing him to leave her secret where it lay fermenting in the pits of her soul. Eventually it would leak, she knew, she was a frail character- without the wily determination which once headed the waves of her childish ambition. She was a shade of what once was.