The child’s small muzzle met the carvings which riddled the historical wall, and Africa couldn’t help the small smile which leaked through her uneasy expression. She too had brushed wiry whiskers against the stories depicted; etched curiously into the sheer stone, wondering tirelessly about their meaning and fancying the brave foursome there whose legends had been maintained perfectly in this mysterious underground realm. She could never have known the reality which flashed through the foal’s attuned mind, and snuffled, quietly musing to herself about the translation one so young and innocent might make.

When he spoke of the mare’s absence; a mother wandering the plagued world above without the foal to be nurtured, the one winged mare’s eyes clouded with distress. She thought instantly of both wraiths she had encountered recently (though really, it would have been many months before); their rotted-corpse forms, the hack of phlem-choked lungs, the strange dim fog which shadowed them. The boy drew his ocean blue gaze from the wall and they met immediately the tentative stare of the dappled mare’s beige eyes. She was taken aback by the depth of those pools, the glowing awareness and bright understanding- all of which had taken her so many years to conquer. A somewhat reserved smile remained, she felt as though her company were more a wise elder than the slim gangly colt who still craved his mother’s milk.

"Yes, I’m Africa; though I fear my use as an Oracle has been lost now." She answered him softly, not thinking right away to question his perception- and whatever else he knew... "Your mother told you all of that?" The young grey asked, fidgeting with surprise (if not a little flattered as well). She had scarcely spoken with the black Sleuth- they had found little in common apart from those trinkets stashed on their being, and certainly Africa could not have imagined Shadow thinking so fondly of her, that she might tell a son such garble. "... they were pieces of a shell, an egg shell. And there was a Twix’s acorn also." For a moment she thought of all those items. It was the second winter she had been forced to spend away from her homeland- and she wondered who was pillaging her nest this time round. A subtle sigh jerked upwards through her throat.

Even though she had stolen the space through his pause to fill in those blanks, the foal continued on again with ever expanding excitement- so much so that Africa was forced a step backwards to avoid falling into the trap of rash decision making and foolish plans- that, she had done before and the much wiser creature was not so keen to build on that foundation of terror and nightmares.

Hesitantly she hummed and nodded, agreeing that indeed they were family; bound by the laws of the Throat. "That is true..." she couldn’t deny, she had heard similar many times over during old herd life. Weakly she offered him a smile as he continued... the flood of words unbelievably, unnervingly, determined.

"I won’t leave you to search alone... what is your name?" Her soft pallid complexion tilted tenderly and eyes swam about his eager young expression with much less excitement perhaps than he had wished from her. "I really can’t let you just starve..." she added also musingly, a blurred mumble that probably wasn’t loud enough to be heard. There was a brisk flutter of wings by the arced doorway to the Wall of History, and through it fluttered the star-speckled Roc who had been suddenly drawn to his beloved’s rising heart rate. A confused croak slipped by the gentle clack of his beak as Silas came to rest cautiously upon the curved rump of his mate. Keen violet eyes studied the small horse; he who was not simply Pegasus, but Unicorn perhaps as well, wondering how one so insignificant to peer upon could stir the heart of a grown mare like he had.

"We need protection." Africa said at last, her attention failing to swing to the silent probe of her companion’s mind, "One other should come I think, because I alone am about as might as a windblown leaf." It wasn’t a funny comment, nor was she particularly proud of the admission- though he was a child still, what would he understand. "Where in Helovia was your mother lost?" A groan rumbled the chest of the Zephyr then, and he stiffened when finally the pattern of the mare’s thoughts began to filter through more coherently. ‘Danger!’ He cried desperately to she alone, who could quite easily be just as vulnerable as the babe she wished to aide.

Africa