She had abandoned her post with all the grace of a butterfly caught in a web...

---

These cold months of Frostfall had been among the cruellest...

Another blizzard began to descend, penetrating the rugged, weather-beaten canopy of the old southern Helovian forest which had become both home and sanctuary for a decrepit, stray mare. She was not much to look at really. Her skin was flaking, her coat dull, patchy and much too thin for the season. Her body was lean, hips pointed and protruding, and a single wing was clasped against the visibly ribbed barrel - though it was half naked and held nothing of the glory born to her. The cold featherless skin had been bruised by snow and wind; blood caked around damaged follicles, evidence that quills had not long ago grown there. Her eyes were sunken, pitiful, and they were glazed with confusion, hurt and regret; she had never been quite able to veil those windows to the heart. Her tattered form stood motionless beneath the lowest limbs of a twisted old pine and her face was downcast, long ears clamped backwards; flames barely flickering above the curl of oil-heavy mane. The wisdom bestowed had been long forgotten; its giver was but a shadow in memories let to fade – those of when times had been better.

The howling wind harassed her and churning snow caught in the clenched rim of long lashes, but she barely noticed; cold, wet, hungry – Africa had not the resolve to care.

What went so wrong?

She had not always been so wretched, so hopeless and withdrawn. In fact, only months ago the world had been her oyster – there had been for her a home, responsibility, faith, security... even a lover. Perhaps that was where it had all begun to fall apart. Had he not been the last in contact with her? Where was he now? Africa neither cared nor remembered in truth.

It all felt like a lifetime passed.

A branch above her head creaked and a little leather pouch fell through the flurrying snow with a soft thud as it came to rest by her hooves. Eat, please... a voice insisted, interrupting the depressive, numbing silence she had come to prefer. Damp lips wandered down to find the morsel of fruits and grains Silas had removed from Sky Island, but she ignored his gift, and sullenly turned away from it.

He had seen this coming – he had not been able to prevent it.

The zephyr nestled down across his freezing feet, claws stiffening around the soggy, tired bark of the branch, downy breast feathers encasing both in warmth. If she wouldn’t feed herself, there was little else he could do for her; he was small in comparison, weak against the strength of her stubbornness, so he resigned simply to keep her company while she stewed and suffered, exiled from her mind and shielding him from her thoughts. It tired him. He worried for her constantly of course and flew often to retrieve food from the only lush place left in all of Helovia just in case she should wake from this gloomy, isolating slumber. Since the island’s occurrence, few travelled so far into the wilderness where she had hidden herself; here there could be no help to guide her free.

Africa sneezed below and Silas glanced down. He could not see her, the snowstorm was relentless – she would catch her death almost certainly if harsh weather like this continued. He had lost track of time...

How far away was Birdsong now?

Again his neck sank into the warmth of his thick feathery collar and striking violet eyes blinked jadedly against the wind as a wave of fatigue threatened to lull him into sleep.

“Silas?” The muffled sound, a choked voice rose from beneath.

The zephyr fell swiftly from his roost and gently he found the soaked, chilled skin across the steep pitch of her spine. What is it? he answered, plunging freely for the first time since they had fled, into the spinning sea of her thoughts. “Don’t... alone anymore...” the forlorn mare stammered aloud, sobs wracking the clarity of each word. Africa had been crying for hours and frozen tears dangled from her quivering lashes as they fluttered briefly. “Everything is such a mess (she continued), and I’m so lost, and confused. And I don’t know what to do!” Tenderly her doting companion began to preen the fouled, burning mane atop her withers. “I can’t go back...” she yelped, feeling the guilt of her desertion settle down upon her like the weight of a thousand boulders. You don’t have to... he answered.

But where then was she supposed to go?

There is another... Silas started ever so gently, guiding her thoughts if she would let him to the one safety net who had always existed – interrupting promptly her rising memory of the bat-winged stallion who he had never cared much about. No, not him... he soothed. And then she remembered; her brother, her perhaps dearest friend. “I should find Midas?” she asked, whispering as the image of that winding cliff-path to his home fell like a veil across her eyes. The zephyr purred kindly, perceptively, and he felt the shiver crawl through the skin beneath his grip.

Africa shook away the melting, saturating snow which had fallen and settled like a thin sheet over her. Suddenly she felt the burning cold as it sank deep beneath her skin; her joints were stiff and they ached, and her bones seemed to shudder as she forced them to life. They had a long distance to cover, and she had not the strength to bear the transformation into parrot form. Slowly they began to make their way through the labyrinth of gnarled, half naked trees in a northerly direction – one which would carry them far from the desert, her past, and because nestled in the foothills beyond the Threshold lay a hidden sanctuary, and a shoulder therein who had never before forsaken her.

---

A number of nights passed before Africa and Silas found themselves in the company of the thinning trees where the Deep Forest began to blend into the Threshold. A bright midday sun danced down in thin shafts through the frayed canopy to warm her cold, wet hide as she passed through – it was heartening in one way, but it frightened her also, reminding her constantly that her actions would undoubtedly have irritated the God of the Sun who had blessed her in so many ways. It did seem, even to her, like she had cast insolently aside His favour and His confidence in her, and it troubled her gravely. Africa had meant not to disgrace Him so hideously. She had not meant to abandon her post either, or fail so wretchedly at any duty given to her.

Foolish, pitiful tears again began to well in her glazed, bloodshot eyes. Was this truly who she had become?

“I want to wait...” she whispered suddenly driving to a halt, unwilling to leave the cover of the forest when the eyes of the Throat could be near to set upon her and judge. She wondered timidly if she had been right about the Wildfire’s return; whether his aim had been to take back power over his land – and rightfully so. The antlered stallion was easily as intimidating as Kri the Resolute had been through her reign, he was fierce, ambitious and everything the one-winged was not. She mused too about Sohalia the Transcended, her pale-coated friend who had been so seldom seen when Africa grappled in vain to keep their herd alive.

Where was Ampere now?

Did any of them wonder what had become of the Africa? Or was she barely a murmur in the pages of history now; a starry-Eyed girl who had floundered beneath the true weight of responsibility. She was so disappointed and felt so empty, but she was a coward, yes; she had abandoned the wealth of that life and had only herself now to blame.

The frail-hearted grey wanted to wait for another blizzard to sweep in. The air was ripe with the taste of fresh snow, it was freezing, and the ominous grey clouds above seemed burdened and heavy (mirroring a tortured mind). Silas understood the request, though he was not altogether delighted with the idea of his vulnerable, sickly companion spending more time in the wilds – there had been comfort dwelling inside the borders of a territory, protection and safety, all of which had given his mind peace.

It will snow soon, I’m sure... her thoughts murmured as knees stiffened and glassy eyes wandered towards the stewing heavens for validation; but the cautious zephyr could not wait any longer.

For @[Midas] only