Cera... the wind seemed to whisper against the limber sea of golden grass that day in the meadow.

The dappled mare’s face lifted high into the warm breath of Tallsun and thick lashes fastened together. She drew in a long, deep breath, listening as she held it for a moment with ears pricked forward. Her sensitive soul drew strange melancholy as the name of her friend and Diviner slipped away again, into oblivion. “Cera?” she answered, voice as delicate as softly babbling snow-water weaving a route between the stones lining a dry creek bed. Eyelids peeled apart finally as her whiskered chin dropped again to the level of her shoulders, and Africa peered quietly around. Pale yellow eyes roamed towards the horizon to the south, home, a vague smile lifting the bland expression she wore.

The herd seemed at last to be blossoming, the Throat’s girth was filling with steady hearts and ambitious minds; a new direction, a fresh start. She was glad all the more that Ampere had abandoned her post as Sultana because Sohalia was more than deserving; a gift in fact (a mind to treasure), and the one-winged couldn’t help but feel a little lost beneath the shadow of one so better suited to power- or so was her perspective. She had always looked up to the white angel, admired her intellect and revered her, in a sense.

But was it her own insecurities that unsettled her so?

No, her friend and companion often reminded her, enigmatic titbits that an infatuated heart had not the ability to decipher. His obscurity frustrated her, but not nearly as much as the constant nag of discontent within. It was not up to the zephyr though to point out the inconsistencies in the mare’s impressionable, yearning plan with Batwing however- he knew the true quench to her thirst (from a perspective that was not her own, it was obvious), but Africa would need to find it for herself. The zephyr slept on soundly while his bonded grazed the stringy pasture by the river, unaware that another approached.

Bright eyes blinked and turned from the column of thick heaven bound smoke. As her crest shook beneath the warm glow of licking fire, moist tongue licking away the wheat bristles caught between long whiskers, the movement of a dark form caught her attention.

“Midas!” she sighed tenderly, perhaps more affectionately than she was aware, fondness weaving swiftly through soft, pale features. Hindquarters rocked gently as hocks guided her around to face the black and white stallion, “How are you?” After months believing that he and Fina had been lost to the Darkness, Africa had found herself in his company many times recently, but never did her joy in their meetings tire. Quiet eyes searched quickly for Fina as Silas slept on deeply.