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A couple passed close by them, leaving the glade in which they had been chatted at length perhaps about the weather, or woes of their past. Rarely did Africa meet others bright of spirit and short of pain, though it fazed her little to welcome them into Helovia. Thick dark lashes fluttered curiously as she heeded their path through the trees, interested to think what future lay ahead. Two or three years had passed already since she had graced these parts like a babe, freshly weaned from the bosom of her mother. She had been a whirlwind of enthusiasm and reckless ambition strewn upon a land of hostility and spite; inexperience which would ultimately forge the careful character she would become. Only more recently though, had the shadow of doubt and distrust on display now before her truly been something she could relate to. Switching attitudes and swinging intentions were not something she readily found comfort beside.

Sialia seemed much wordier than most other Unicorn’s she knew- those hailing from the Basin anyway from Africa’s experience acted rashly and quickly on impulse, rather than passing the time through conversation. Perhaps her perspective had been perverted by those wicked few she had been unlucky enough to encounter, but that view had been imprinted as strongly into her mind, as an infant’s memory of their mother. She stood listening quietly to the other’s long-winded, not so philosophical spiel about names, long weighty ears wavering enduringly through the curling flames around them. When the creature with the disconcertingly cold smile had finished, her dark eyes came to rest upon the Starry-Eyed while she spoke briefly.

The other black, the reason behind the impromptu gathering sighed a little. Africa’s ears stiffened forwards at last, her pale gaze also coming to rest upon the newcomer. Her thoughts were voiced at last- her perception of the Threshold and what exactly its purpose was, to which the grey smiled delicately and nodded. Indeed it was the bridge between worlds where the lost and wandering were funnelled helplessly into a pit of ravenous wolves, all desperate to snare commitment and loyalty. She was neither of those though, never had she been. Should recruits be found while she strolled through the old pungent pines, all the better, but she was not as careless in choice and hungry for numbers as many around her.

The final question lingered in thought as silence was left to grow between them at last. Africa drew a long breath and began. "I am Africa... (She was not sure if Sialia had witnessed the introduction earlier) ... and I come from the southern desert, Dragon’s Throat. We are a spiritual clan serving faithfully the almighty God of light and warmth; sand and sun. Though our land is old and rich with history, the dynamics of our herd have recently been reformed. There is new power, striving in a fresh direction to the unwavering militaristic rule of the past. Still defence is a priority, but culture, diplomacy and education have become a more pivotal part of our peaceful herd’s existence.” Carefully she skirted the subject of ranks- those which were still mostly unfilled, leaving their strength and defence in a questionable position. Africa trusted their lord though, and feared not that the Throat held so few bodies. She had no doubt time would be generous to them- the Throatlings worked steadily in his name after all.

Africa