In recent days Africa had grown tired of hiding herself away from the glare of strange eyes and their whispering, gossiping tongues. Every night still she slept beneath the mountain, wrapped in dense rock and blanketed snugly in heavy shadow, but as the sun lifted from its eastern nest beneath the cliffs every day, her soul was stirred to life by the promise of another day; another beginning, a clean slate. Her disposition had been swayed from the perpetual downward spiral of recent years, gloom and self-pity; hooves stepped higher since her heart had been relieved of such devouring anxiety, and young eyes shone with new hope and direction.

On this day, even despite the white streamers threatening the ambience of the bright blue sky, the Starry-Eyed slipped from her prison cell bed with a bounce to her gait and began at once up the worn track to the region’s central grassland. Far above her, the obsidian profile of her companion sailed silently aboard heavenly thermals, watching always, for the sake of his tender-hearted beloved’s safety.

As she went, there came word upon the wind a summoning call for all of the horses of Hidden Falls to assemble. The owner of the voice was unmistakable, and carried brilliantly between rock and tree, lifting further still than the steady roar of the falls dotted throughout his realm. Long ears fluttered forward to bask in the glorious sound, and path shifted slightly to follow - not solely to obey the instruction given... Minutes later she was closing on the rear of a group gathered, and she hesitated shyly. Few faces were recognised, and only two offered comfort.

Soft golden tones invited her forward again, and whiskered muzzled reached to brush the warmth of Rasta who had not breeched the main body of the assembled herd. Deliberately, in that same moment she sought a stone to skip with a careful beige hoof so as not to startle her sister of old. "It’s just me..." she whispered lightly, and moved to stand close – there was not the same revolting heat that compelled bodies apart from one another in the desert. To Midas ahead Africa offered a humble smile and she tilted her slim face so that silky grey forelock might swing away to the side and offer a clearer view of the proceedings (she knew not who the Unipeg beside him was, though her position amongst the meeting hinted power).

Africa