A voice filled her mind, heart and conscience all at once, and Africa ceased all breath and motion to observe it. Stern instruction was given; silent tongue as unfamiliar to her as the roaring song of the ocean, still more ethereal than the whispering wisdom of the elder ashen Unicorn, Hellena and the parrot obediently, without hesitation, bent her neck to focus all concentration.

Four long legs descended together from the perverted blur of writhing bone and skin, two white at the front and two sooty-black to the rear. Small light-weight frame stretched horridly to assume the length and strength of a horse and one wing shrivelled away altogether as the other shed every glossy groomed feather thatched across it (in their place sprouted sharp sheathed new growth that began to flake and itch terribly). So too did a thick, arched Spanish neck emerge and fire licked through the whirling grey mane spilling down along it- flame curled also through black and red tendrils falling to her rear in place of the wedge-like scarlet tail.

Shy and insecure, creamy eyes came at last (barely twenty seconds later), to rest upon the unnervingly commanding expression of the pale Peacock. She said nothing, and promptly the bird turned ahead of his sophisticated, colourless skirt, to guide her down into the cave. Before chipped hoof struck the cold stone doorstep, the one-winged cast a fond glance about the colourful audience of parrots gathered; bright, raucous, and a sight to behold. Silas swooped down from their midst to ride upon the swinging rump of his beloved.

The air inside their once-refuge, was cool, damp and the foul stench of mould seemed more overpowering then Africa remembered. Nostrils pinched as they descended and through the dim light she saw more parrots perched, bickering, watching and tending devotedly to the lavish, lovely plumage they carried. How she would have loved to look so striking- surely one dressed like a rainbow would feel not the burden of depression and guilt... She was hardly proud of her drab pelt (memory of His unsatisfied eye haunted her), and that lack of warm sentiment showed plainly as dense mats and patchy dull hue, heavy skin draped across the pitch of protruding bones.

Neither she nor Silas remember this cave to be so lively; so animated and inviting.

A large cage to the left caught Africa’s eye, and she stepped respectfully by the Peacock as he paused, rich voice again flooding her core. Nervous expression mellowed considerably as her tender gaze touched the cooing dove – cruel steel bars severed clear view of its smooth, pure, grey-brown form. Deep melancholy tripped the pounding of her heart; she understood all too well what the bird wanted, what it deserved. "Freedom..." Her answer leaked through a sombre sigh into an eerily still cavern, and soft lips lifted to brush by the prison, to search unconsciously perhaps, for a lock or door to unhinge. She did not notice the lull of activity in the room until her face turned to find the Peacock, with his feathers smoothed unexpectedly, gracefully behind. Please, let it be free...

Africa