The lamp above danced playfully, shedding the weak warmth of humble firelight across a room that might otherwise have felt as cold and bitter as the darkness engulfing the world outside. Africa had basked beneath it for many days, breaking vigil only to descend through curling corridors and feed upon the delicate morsels which somehow thrived without the grace of day. It was perhaps the only place in the whole of The Sanctuary that offered her true solace; a place to weave in and out of thought, rest and pray longingly for the return of the God she trusted so faithfully.

Pastel eyes seemed dull and grey as they roved in silent speculation, cast in shadow, tracing meticulously the shimmering lines of drawings etched countless years ago. They held such mystery and fed a mind which might otherwise have tired rapidly without the diversity of the life and lore which embellished the landscape above. She stewed over their meaning industriously, blinking whenever the figures portrayed (the Gods themselves in youth, Midas had explained), began in abstract to breathe, writhe and beckon her closer.

There was a strange gush of air; both with the crisp and unmistakable taste of the last snow's melting, but also lacing its flurrying path she thought, was contrasting warmth, and the ferocity borne of fire. Fluttering nostrils were drawn firstly towards the doorway, and Africa noticed quickly that the room beyond was bathed in brightness unseen since even the weight of Tallsun. Long black lashes parted anxiously, the pulse of restless veins stirring quickly the fresh boil of blood as the beat of her heart began to throb with sudden hope. Many hours had been passed wishing for the comfort of her Lord; and she could not help but flounder when perhaps that moment had come.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the bursting light vanished by- continuing perhaps into the depths of the murky cavern, and Africa’s usually steady hooves scrambled to find the traction needed to follow with haste. Silas, who had been resting none the wiser upon the pitch of his beloved’s withers tumbled into the stale, moist air, but could do little to reel back the attention of his engrossed companion. Dislodged, downy black feathers twirled wildly across the empty room as his thrashing wings fought for composure- but no sooner had that been gained, the lithe Roc was plunging after the puddly-grey mare, the clatter of her stride filling the passage as it shrank around him.

Africa stumbled towards the next fissure in the slick rock-face, a gaping doorway actually through which the delicate hues of glowing mushrooms and the like had been smothered by blinding light. There was a smaller horse standing there, transfixed perhaps, and the once-Diviner slipped smoothly by her coppery form. Transparent naturally, her expression exuded the gladness; the relief and the confidence, as it spilled through her core like an uplifting drug. He had returned! Even as her crippled body stopped not far from him, squinting, a trembling mass humbled by the presence of one so merciful and shrewd, she could find no words to celebrate with aloud. Another mare was before him already- the angry blue banshee who had done nothing but sour the trust in Africa’s gentle soul, and for the moment she lingered to watch without interrupting.

Certainly she wished not to irritate the Sun God by sending the blue mare into another crazed, incessant tirade- he would have not the patience for that.

Africa