Satanic Silk

The strangely colored one comes up behind me, quiet on our journey. Though it's been long and arduous, the silence has actually made the trip rather nice. Having company, but no need to fill the silence. Instead, to just exist in peace. Somewhere along the way I decided that, although this mare is strange looking to me, I rather like her. She doesn't wear me out in ways that others have. She sends a slight jab my way, and I chuckle deeply. This was once my home. I wasn't here for very long, but I am still close to some that reside here. I don't let on, of course, that "some" is really "one", nor do I let on quite how close "close" really is. She asks about food and water, and I can't blame her. It looks like any desert - devoid of all but the hardiest of souls who've adapted to such a landscape. There is an oasis, and some grass here and there where water pops up. It certainly is harsh terrain, do not mistake me.

In answering her question, I almost miss the call that comes back to me. Almost. The whinny of joy that returns makes my spirit soar and my crimson eyes shine bright. I leave my charge, trotting forward several yards to meet the oncoming grey mare. She calls my name and I could just die at the sound of it, it's so sweet on my swiveling ears. I sharply swing my leathery wings out, spreading them wide to welcome her into my embrace. I fold my wings around her, shading us from the hot sun in our own cocoon. I was only gone a short time, but it felt so long. My love. I whisper softly into her ears, admiring the look of her face pressed against my shoulder. We are meant to be together, there is no doubt in my mind. My own flaxen mane hangs gently over her flaming one, creating a strange mixture of colors and grays. Odd and handsome all in one, we are.

My mind is already disappearing into the forever of love, but Africa is not to forget herself in front of another, and I both appreciate and respect that. Though we separate, I feel my body has grown even hotter - from the sun, from our embrace, and from the heart-pounding attraction that courses through me. Africa greets the newcomer, Alija, and introduces herself.

As Sultana.

My eyes, heavily lidded as I revel in the wonder of reunion, widen in .. surprise, to say the least. Sultana?! I did not know she had become Sultana of the Throat. Why didn't she tell me this? Didn't she think it might be important. In the back of my mind, a small voice tells me that maybe, just maybe, station is a superficial quality that is unnecessary and inappropriate in the arena of love. I can accept that. Africa calls us off to the shade of a nearby acacia tree, and I start moving that way. When I'm standing in the shade, I stop and rest. My heart pounds and my mind spins. There is so much that is new to me, so much to understand, so much to do.

But with you here, I can do anything.


Walk. Talk.

hungry for life