The clatter of hoof striking stone resonated somewhere up the length of one the corridors leading to this blackened pit; it rested far away, down beneath the billowy howl of the morbid, sickened Frostfall outside. The sound did not stir her as she descended into haunted sleep and tortured convulsions; she had surrendered at last, fallen into a world of pain and anguish, of broken bones and severed limbs, and she writhed beneath the guarding grip of her bonded, oblivious to the arrival of other creatures around her.

The sand bedded her comfortably enough; it was a far cry from the stiff, cold rock floor which had come to be her joint-jarring home; cradling each twist and turn, every thrashing jerk, as she fought the illusion of those responsible for all the hardships done to her. Though away from reality; rest and recover she could not. A voice fell through flaccid ears, leaking like the echo of her conscience into a vulnerable mind- there was another pacing nearby, but his steps were cushioned and not louder than the churn of Africa’s flustered breathing he was invisible.

‘The darkness devours what will not fight it.’

For a moment, the laying mare stiffened, stilled; she looked to be then only a lost corpse decaying in the solitude of darkness. A gentle croak slipped passed the hooked beak of her watching companion, his narrowed lilac gaze was trained to the stranger- wary of any who lurked in the sinister black where horses (he knew) would not naturally thrive. His eyes were marvellously capable when no light was available and Silas could see also the creature who was her company, a sort which he had not before seen.

"But I can’t fight anymore…" her mind cried desperately, "…I can’t live with this guilt; the way I am now, my soul is sour and I can’t please those around me like once I could. I don’t know what’s happening to me." A pitiful whimper was pitched with another flail of her helpless limbs, and a new voice surfaced; the familiar caress of one whose love had not the limits of the worldly creatures lining the cave. Silas called to her, hearing the desperation as it peeled through her crumbling being. ‘Wake now,’ the Zephyr encouraged, leaning to preen the oily tangles of her man that lay sprawled each way along her collapsed neck.

Africa stirred suddenly, eyelids thrown apart as consciousness returned, and her body rocked violently so that it might sit more upright; propped against outstretched forelimbs, the rest tucked tightly beneath. The Roc fluttered as she came too, whisking tactfully from the inevitable lash to follow, and returned only to her withers when she had risen properly, and stood soundly upon trembling legs once more. He began at once to preen affectionately her locks; to move the sand gathered through her crest and weave out those wild tangles which seemed so relentlessly to gather throughout.

Quickly the once Oracle realised she was not alone- there were others around her; perhaps they had been too, when exhaustion had suffocated her wakefulness.

"Who are you?" She asked at once, eyes failing to find their identities when her sucking nostrils too pulled blank. Though Silas did not fill her with foreboding, Africa could not help that overwhelming feeling as it spread like wildfire through her being. "Who?" She asked a little more desperately, though the gentle note of her sweet voice never faltered. Firstly, the tender cluck of her bonded answered, and the delicate stroke of his voice in her mind. ‘Mare, two…. Bear cub. Stallion.’

Africa