It heartened her greatly to hear that one so steadfast, resilient and sensible had walked also as a fool – even if the edges of his thoughtful gesture suggested humour. Perhaps he was just the company most needed.

After a time, Africa’s concerned, compassionate gaze slipped and pale eyes wandered beyond his lean face to a wall which was not smooth, cold or stone like the rest around them. His gaze had strayed also – she knew that he had discovered her ugly wing and the delicate tone of his question lingered about her like impassable fog.

Distracted conveniently but hardly ignoring, the one-winged mare turned to venture nearer, away in turn from Midas. Worn hooves scuffed silently along the moist earth as sooty knees groaned wearily, grinding beneath the weight of the frame above, and the empty follicles dotting her tatty, plucked wing tingled as intrigue expanded. Her fire’s glow lit up a small space, a gap though which cold air and fine powder slipped into the den and thin lips pursed to trace the length of it. A faint whistle greeted her ears before they swivelled back, guiding her attention; and flaming neck bowed as she glanced towards her friend with a feeble smile.

What else had they to talk about besides her transgressions...?

It isn’t like that, she scolded herself promptly then teased - “well I assumed this was your doing?” She looked to her quietly watching bonded and then around at their sanctuary, something like fake mockery dancing briefly through her expression.

Africa appreciated his care and concern, and in all honesty she felt not closer or more content speaking with any other she knew. The one-winged mare was all too aware of the countless blessings bestowed by him over the years and she was forever grateful – she felt suddenly like she had known him for a lifetime or more, and sighed heavily. “The Wildfire... He has returned and taken back his throne - you are aware?” She did not know if that was the case actually, but if any were to know the truth of the matter Midas the Gallant - brother of sand - surely would be able to enlighten her. “I can only guess Sohalia the Transcended stands there with him and that leaves no room for another... Cera is Diviner now and I can think of no man better suited. All other roles are filled.” Fraying thoughts leaked out as her disappointment churned just beyond reach of her tempted tongue. She couldn’t settle again as a peon in the kingdom she had worked so hard to grow – she had invested so much of herself over a great length of time, no matter how futile the effort.

Ampere had abandoned them without prior warning and the white queen had been absent for long periods after. Africa had been left to struggle alone for the most part, to prove her worth before a sceptical herd and a wary God. Those who knew of the Throat’s former glory were proud and reluctant - Cera, Hector (she imagined them all) and the lowly one-winged felt almost as though she had been set there to fail...

Dimpled chin flinched and her teeth tightened grimly together. “Dragon’s Throat is not the same without you Midas, I doubt you would even recognize it if ever you found reason to return...” she admitted ruefully, avoiding eye contact for that moment to guard against the guilt glassing over her eyes.

And then there was Silk, one who had pledged his whole existence to her, left the very earth she now sought sanctuary upon to both serve and love her. Africa was in many ways still a babe, just starting to crawl. Emotions, confusion, all were as fraught as pond-ice, and she had given the devoted leather wing stallion nothing but frigidness in return – a smile where necessary perhaps, and fluttery contributions of affection.

Was she afraid of commitment?

Silas knew the answer and his breast purred contentedly where he perched upon the ground.

She was a will-o’-the-wisp; untouchable, out of reach of the lonely, starving hearts that lusted after her... Windwalker had tried in vain also to tie down her wild soul, but she was a nymph gliding ever free of their binding chains. Curiously it seemed though, that whenever Midas’ path skewed from her view, Africa grew restless, reckless, and she was becoming all the more aware of this. “I left them all behind,” she revealed softly, turning back both eyes and body to find comfort again near his warmth. The Gallant’s presence gave her strength and she felt less inclined to cower beneath the blanket of her disgrace – he never seemed to judge her. “Silk, Sohalia, Sikeax... I just could not stay any longer. They know nothing of my whereabouts and for now I think that is best.” Her voice was timid though determined. She could not bear yet to imagine the scorn she was yet to suffer; the judgement and the frustration.

The anger...

“Will you have me here? I would not ride on the back of your generosity.” Mellow eyes warmed as they fell across his face. “I will work wherever you have need for me.”

Please...