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Responding swiftly to the Sun Physician’s instruction, Africa sprang forward towards the crystal cup with well-meaning urgency and her forward flung hooves nearly bowled it clean over. Her nose rattled dismay loudly, and she paused for a moment, realising all at once her blind panic was no benefit to anyone. Elegant, fire-strewn crest craned right impulsively, lips rummaging through the glossing lacework of mottled grey feathering to find one mid-length, and pluck it away. There was no thought behind the act, no consideration, not even realisation. As she turned back to look upon the crumpled form of her pale, creamy friend, the one-winged released the quill and it fell in loose, twirling circles to lie in the sand by Rasta’s body.

Africa blinked hard, clenching lids together as though blocking out the horrible scene before her might help her mind to clear; she hoped to settle her fraying nerves, to steady the frenzied beating of her heart. Barely seconds had passed in truth since Andromeda had spoken, and after the moment spent collecting herself, quivering lips sank to find the rim of Sohalia’s bowl. Teeth gathered carefully around it, feeling the cold smooth ridge and securing it attentively; and she lifted it above the smooth hide of the mare before allowing the cool fluid within to spill. She poured water delicately along the curve of the scarcely rising barrel, noting vaguely a light film of desert dust discolour the little erratic channels.

When it was empty, she glanced from Andromeda to her white sister who had returned with more in an improved jug, eyes seemingly stained with grief. Africa’s own eyes grew suddenly hot, and raw emotion leaked quickly to prickle the soft grey of her face. She did not cry though, instead looking quickly down as Sohalia fell by the face of their friend, coaxing her to drink. The Starry-Eyed held her breath anxiously and waited as the water seemed to sink into her mouth; it was not repelled...

Rasta’s eyes opened at last revealing the cloudy, sightless gaze that had been so desperately wanted. "We are here. " Africa cooed softly, sliding forward instantly to nuzzle one ear slunk back into flaxen threads. Relieved, she looked by each mare as she mentioned their name, "...Africa, Sohalia, Andromeda... " Then carefully she pulled away, bared teeth sweeping down to collect the crystal cup resting in the sand. "I will fetch more water! "


[Hngngng, Sohalia is such a sweet heart <3]

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Water sloshed from the crystal cup as Africa bounced energetically back towards the rim of the oasis. The long glossy grey feathers trimming her only wing flared outwards as she went; hurrying (because the situation was dire), and trying in vain to balance enough to not lose Rasta’s cool drink altogether along the way. "Hurry-hurry-hurry..." she chanted to herself aloud, inexpert teeth gripping the slippery surface of the leaf-vessel and lips wrapped awkwardly around it as well. Saliva pooled in her open mouth, spilling, blending with the water; tongue lolling backwards and forwards, but she barely noticed. Large almond-shaped eyes were creased with worry as they strained through the desert’s hardy undergrowth, hunting for her friends.

All was still and quiet when she arrived back. The ailing mare’s head lay across a bed of Sohalia’s wing feathers, eyes opened weakly, nostrils panting all the while for air. Gingerly and delicately the one-winged mare crept forward with the trickle of water still pooled in the base of her cup, and she lowered it towards Rasta with softly blowing, tender breaths. When she had set it down in the sand, her gaze lifted to examine the expressions of Andromeda and Sohalia, hoping at least to learn if the need for concern had escalated. Though still the same worry wrought through her own pale features seemed to stain theirs, it hadn’t worsened, and Africa allowed herself a deep, relieved breath.

She had been away during the chorus of feeble apologising. With shoulders flinching as the adrenaline fuelling her body began to subside, the dappled Pegasus asked with a tender note, "What happened to you? Where have you been?" Warm nurturing eyes gazed down upon the slumped form of their friend, confusion glazed across them. Perhaps the Darkness was the cause of this, Africa shuddered and thought of Silk; of the two half rotted corpses that had pursued her many seasons ago before the herd had taken shelter. Rasta seemed not to have the wounds of the sickness though, and she was recovering at last- hopefully enough to explain.