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It had been two nights already, and as the first sliver of dawn light began to creep across the far eastern horizon on the third day, Africa turned her weary eyes to the north; to the bridge into the desert where she wholeheartedly expected the raven stallion aboard leathery wings to descend. She’d not slept a wink, still scatterbrained, intoxicated, and prominent pink veins had risen to tarnish her light-golden gaze, a glaze to gloss their crystal clear quality. The soft hues of the breaking morning hinted at yet another scorching Tallsun day (naturally). Fading stars winked playfully a final good bye, before they fell into the expanding abyss of vast blue, and the milky face of night’s moon had already sunk heavily into the cliffs to the west. No shadow loomed by the border yet however, and the eager mare sighed misty disappointment into the still, cold air.

There was a fair furrow in the gravelly sand where she’d been waiting, standing vigil, swaying with restless anticipation; wondering, hoping. Her empty stomach groaned a vigorous objection to her fasting (though Silas had brought for her petty samples of overripe fruit and more carefully, Aquis Pipe flowers), but the aggressively nervous throb of her pulse numbed her pricked, focused ears. She could hear nothing but the longing of her fluttering heart; feel naught but the twist of expectation through her core. Powerful, sloping shoulders rolled beneath the loose shroud of cloak (moss green and covering all of her body; velveteen edge draped down about her clicking knees) and fire curled and whirled as she shook the long thick curtain of fading grey mane which sprawled down across the delicate arch of her neck. The golden dragons dancing together upon her brow glistened as the sunlight grew stronger, but alas the stallion never came.

By midday, sweat again stained her mottled hide, though the sheet of light fabric masked all but sodden legs and dampened neck. It offered light shade and rippled gently whenever a rare zephyr of wind burst in from the coast. Still she lingered, bothered by plaguing flies keen and opportunistic, and as parched inside as the arid land beneath; that which she loved so much. Africa yawned deeply, her jaws prying apart to receive the hot thankless air, and briefly her lonely eyes were hidden beneath the fall of thick lashes. As they opened once more, a slow moving shadow appeared some way off and lids flung further apart with surprise, desperately optimistic. She took a tentative step towards it, long charcoal ears straining forward, neck lifting her well-chiselled skull high into the air; nostrils fluttering, pumping the air should any scent betray this visitor’s identity.

He called suddenly, a shrill confident sound to mark his arrival home at last and the Starry-Eyed returned a song still louder, overjoyed. Long white stockinged forelegs stumbled forward into a canter and she covered the space between them quickly, bucking and cavorting like a young filly in a meadow of spring’s first flowers. She was far too excited to notice he’d not flown down to meet her, and likewise failed at first to notice the mare trailing the dust stirred up by his sturdy grey hooves. "Silk! Silk!" she called him, falling headlong into him, burying kind features against the steaming breadth of his body. The scent upon him was alien and strange, but she figured soon enough he would be laced by the dusty hue of their Throat suitably.

When she peeled herself away from him after a lavish embrace, yellow eyes fell upon the one nearby; antlered, strangely marked and tinged beneath bright stripes similarly to the sleek blanket feathers beneath the starry-spangle dressing her companion. "Hello there," she breathed blissfully, grinning, admiring the curious jewel draped between the prongs over her face. "...I’m Africa, Sultana of Dragon’s Throat." Fiery tail flicked sharply through the plume of buzzing flies pursuing, long black and red tendrils beneath sliding off the narrow points of her hocks. "Come to the shade, we will talk there in comfort." She had no reason to think Silk might bring harm to her and their family, and after a brief, thoughtful assessment of the unfamiliar mare in his company, the Starry-Eyed imagined her mild appearance to be no threat.

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She felt the elation and presumed quickly, gullibly that it was love; longing, lust, hope and happiness. She was caught and lifted by the whirlwind of emotion, his embrace- his exclusive affection. She was his and easily, readily she absorbed his warmth, his care and his delight. Strange, hooked wings gathered around her, sliding the loose silk along her body, trying in vain to find the sleek, moist coat canvassing her lovely curves. The blistering bite of the sun was replaced quickly by the sultry warmth of his body as it pressed intimately against her, sweat slick across it. He whispered to her alone, a declaration, a promise and instantly Africa’s lips peeled apart to answer... No.

No? She questioned, wondering what her companion meant- again. Lately he’d been acting out, plunging still deeper than the simplicity of her blissfully happy mind and injecting vast enigmatic statements there, that she neither understood, nor particularly wanted. She remembered recently how they had spoken of all the things she’d once longed for; they'd deliberated over her feelings for Silk until her naivety could bear no more. Now, thoughtfully curious eyes roved along the sleek, dampened black of his coat, the line of his crest, his nape; searching him in silence like perhaps the answers to everything might suddenly come to light. I’m sure its love... she assured, but there was a tickle of doubt; maybe there would always be. Had she not told Windwalker that love cannot be instant? You did, Silas answered the thought suddenly, and swooped down from the heavens to set upon her rump.

There was no doubting how he felt though, the affectionate stallion made absolutely no secret of it and Africa grinned stupidly across at him, not for one second betraying the bird’s reservations outwardly; their impact, the dilemma.

Before they left for the shade, the eccentrically coloured mare introduced herself, drawing light-gold eyes from their interest. They blinked curiously at the title set beside her name and the one-winged chuckled chivalrously, "I’m nothing so fancy. Africa is fine." Tenderly she offered her velvety nose, a friendly gesture from a demure creature, after which she turned and started inland towards a rogue tree whose feeble canopy would suffice for a little while longer.

Africa slipped to the edge of the shade, offering naturally more of the gift to the black coated stallion and the newest to the Throat- she thought nothing of it, and turned forward her long ears to listen, swivelling to face her company, as Alija began again to speak. Silas clawed forward from his perch, finding instead relief from the sun just near her withers (not too close; he was none too fond of the fire woven through the tendrils of her mane). He remained silent, watching, always with a careful eye. "You’re most welcome to roost here, and we’re grateful to be receiving you as a healer. I’m sure you could share knowledge with those of us who also hold an interest in your art, and tend well too, our sparring soldiers." Then she turned to Silk, heart fluttering; eyes lashes batting together coyly. "Thank you." Still their numbers were small. He could not have known her appreciation; but soon enough he would see that recruiting such able, willing bodies had become crucial to the herd’s survival.

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Eyes widen in response to the other mare’s sudden start, but almost as quickly, her demeanour had again softened. Pastel gaze turned to find the source of Alija’s fear; but already the explanation had formed through her thoughts. Silas. The bird shifted across naked, scaly black legs and the long ornamental crest feathers draped down around his hunched shoulders, bristled; elaborate tail feathers flared with obnoxious indifference to their conversation. Nestling his small skull down against his collar, he settled to rest upon her with one sharp lilac eye trained instinctively to her kin- he never was too fond of the daylight hours.

"You needn’t fear him, Alija..." She chuckled light-heartedly, rolling her shoulders brazenly to prove his placidness. His breast rumbled objectionably and she laughed still a little longer at his expense. Returning the courtesy, the little Zephyr’s talons began to close around silk and skin, and Africa’s mischievous smile faded immediately. "He is Silas, and we are bonded," she explained further, nodding, and the vividly-hued mare began almost instantaneously to relax. Breaths were swapped tenderly and as the Unicorn mare expressed her gratitude, the dappled mare snuffled graciously.

The Starry-Eyed took the quiet moment that followed as an opportunity to look again to Silk and curiously, her long ears danced forward from their veil of twisting fire. "Did your chat with the Gallant go well?" She asked, cringing a little, unsure how her inadvertent poaching of Falls folk would have been received. During the time her leather-winged crush had been absent, Midas had come to establish friendship between the two regions; an offer of alliance which neither she, nor Sohalia had resisted. "...Come, we will show you the oasis," she added quickly, gesturing with a smile towards Alija, and stepping away towards the promise of cool refreshment.