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The large looming figure of the soldier- of Hector, quickly attracted Africa’s pastel yellow gaze from the rolling red dune ahead, and long lashes opened with surprise as he divulged breathlessly the scene unfolding on the oasis’s brink. Rasta was another of the Throat’s intimate family who had been missing since the Darkness, and concern flooded instantly the grey features of the one-winged mare. Dread invaded her thoughts and clouded her conscience, but Andromeda’s dark wingspan had already unravelled and a quietly respectful gesture offered before she pulled clear. "Thank you Hector..." She said quickly, dipping her skull in a show of appreciation.

Courteously, Africa shuffled backwards through the loose, hot sand two or three strides, well clear of thrusting wings as the Sun Physician began a hurried ascent into the clear blue arc above. Offering a smile riddled with worry, she dismissed the stallion who lingered- perhaps he was unsure whether he should accompany her by foot or fly more swiftly aloft. She clenched together her eyes firmly, and began the awkward, painful transition into parrot form. Joints began to loosen, bones to crack and bend; skin shrivelled and tightened around her shrinking, contorting body, and pin-feathers began to sprout across her hide. Quickly they shed their sheaths and bristle as the nervous system beneath began to numb at last; the shrouding mist surrounding faded.

The Grey Parrot skipped oddly across her short, naked legs, the desert sand burning to touch. She spread her small wings then and between exaggerated thrusts, rose away in to the air, stocky body bouncing between erratic flapping; hooked beak snapping as she went. Her journey would not be as swift as her Pegasus form might have allowed, but that body was crippled, and even the bumpy, playful flight of a parrot would be faster than by foot. She barrelled along, swooping and dipping through the streamer-like leaves of the palms growing by the edge of the oasis. Andromeda was well out of sight, but pinning pupils found (with the fastness of a prey-animal’s attention), the flickering, arching silhouette of an avian drop from the sky not far ahead. Astraeus!

She closed in on the gathered group quickly then, lowering near to the ground too, and flaring her wings to halt abruptly so that she might shift back into the form of the one-winged mare before presenting. A minute or less passed, and Africa was stumbling forward through the last of the undergrowth, alarm strewn through her gentle expression. "What has happened!" She called out with growing desperation, avoiding Andromeda who was by then assessing Rasta, frail pale form sunk beneath the waltzing shade of the oasis’ skirt. Sohalia was pacing nearby, and that was where the dappled mare came to rest, leeching weak comfort from their combined concern; distress.

The creamy mare began to speak, answer, her words barely gasps as she struggled to fill hungry lungs. Africa watched with escalating bewilderment as the other’s strangely vacant gaze swayed awkwardly and then rolled back against their sockets. She apologised suddenly, faintly, before her delicate frame fell motionless- the small rise and fall of her barrel with each meagre breath, the only sign of life. Help her! She screamed, though her jaws were stiff, clenched together. Silas cried above them where he circled.


[ooc: Hector is nearby-ish, but not posting further unless called upon.]