Practically bursting after a week spent indulging on the bountiful fruits of Birdsong, Silas had wedged himself snugly into the fork of the tallest pine in the central meadow of their home. Though the oasis of Dragon’s Throat possessed its own delicacies, they were often few and far between, and while Africa had served tirelessly the Sun’s herd as Sultana, there had just been so little time to take advantage. A warm breeze curled down from the heavens, dragging lethargically the bristly roost he had chosen, but the star-flecked bird did not stir; his neck had twisted, tiny feathered skull buried beneath a shroud of silky feathers. He was sound asleep.

Below, his dapple grey bonded grazed quietly upon the sweet, succulent grass, mood far lighter than it had been in many years. She was thriving at last it seemed. Appetite had returned and already a new fullness fleshed out the ridges of her body; coat gleamed as the rich nutrients of this hidden world worked to heal both heart and soul. There was fond company too, to lift her spirits and for this, pale golden-haloed eyes sparkled all the brighter. There was an entirely different quality of life in the Falls to that which she had grown so wearisome beneath in the desert, and she revelled in the peace it brought.

There was a lull in the banter of the birdlife caught in the wood surrounding, and long coal-tipped ears swivelled forward across thick soft mane curiously. Her thin coat flinched as she regarded the sudden silence cautiously, and as her grey face high into the air nostrils sucked deeply, tasting, testing. Something wasn’t right. The scent she discovered startled her – Africa had forgotten that friends of old lingered with Midas here. Rasta! Widening eyes danced through the small meadow, and knees twisted beneath her turning weight. "Rasta!"

The pallid mare was standing just north, collapsing, and instantly memory of the last time they had spoken flooded her lurching mind. In no time lean legs were folding beside the blind friend, "Lie still, rest...." The Starry-Eyed heart ached to see the state of her friend – blood caked across sullied cream, wounds so gruesome that she cringed, sickened. Thoughts wondered as she worked, whether it was the murderer Midas had mentioned who had injured Rasta so awfully, but she steadied herself quickly and drew a deep cleansing breath. The magic stewing inside was not foreign to her. Already she had called upon its power to touch Confutatis...

Tender emerald shoots began to sprout from their earth-nest, cloaked in rich soil, purifying mud, all around the injured mare. They grew and grew, delicate vines slithering across fallen hide, encasing her where she lay, and Africa guided them wordlessly with compassionate, steady concentration. Before long, the crippled creature was covered; quivering leaves budded across the bulge of sprawled flesh beneath as Earth’s magic cleansed, and mud oozed between pulsing vines. Skin meshed together wherever it had been scored and swelling began to dull, bruising to fade.

"Dear friend," The Starry-Eyed whispered breathlessly at last. The vine were recoiling, shrinking back into the soil from which she had summoned them, and the dappled mare slithered down to her friend’s side. "Who caused you such pain?" Tenderly she nuzzled the bared neck between rambling mane, now clean and whole, and concerned eyes roamed the length of barrel spread out behind.

Africa

Beneath the tangle of thick grey mane and the wild, rolling dance of golden-red fire, wavering ears stilled to listen and leaned nearer to the pallid, fallen mare as she began to speak in fractured sentences. Naturally concern swept through Africa’s compassionate soul and her sensitive expression quickly reflected that feeling. Pale sandy eyes narrowed critically, although only for her own blundering blindness and not that of her friend. Why had vigilance and care not entered her head? Why had she not heeded more closely the very obvious need of her friend? The past was behind her however, and she had learned bitterly to not dwell on matters beyond her influence – turning thoughts over and over was a corrosive habit.

Rasta’s tale stirred memory of wraiths, rotted and revolting, from the recesses of her mind, and beneath a wince, the one-winged mare pressed lovingly her lips closer. "Oh, awful..." she winced once through a brief pause. It was a terrible account, sickening, and Africa could barely accept her friend’s feeble attempts to reassure. Even if the Earth could restore the dove’s health, sew back her broken skin and ease the sting of bruised flesh, the Starr-Eyed worried about the other mare’s mind – nightmares surely to follow. She wanted to delve into the memory of all which had happened, but the concentration was not there; there was not yet enough control to descend. Soon to the light golden girl was asking questions that seemed so irrelevant given her situation.

The healing vines vanished almost as suddenly as they had emerged and no trace of their growth lingered in the soil beneath or around Rasta’s body. Africa rocked to her knees, velvet nose lingering by the other longer, and each breath short and shallow as she tested the air between feverishly for any sign of remaining blood. "Gaucho has returned to Dragon’s Throat..." she soothed tenderly, hiding meticulously the streak of pain as it lanced her heart and roused a suffocating wave of guilt through her mind. "He is their rightful Sultan." Their... "I’ve made a bed here in the Falls now." There was so much more to the story, so many regrets and failings – but the Starry-Eyed could not bear to face them so soon.

"Can I bring you anything dear one? Birdsong has brought to ripen more fruit here than my eyes have ever seen before." Light laughter, brave distractions. Silas spread open his wingspan and the updraft of a warm breeze gathered quickly beneath his feathers. He lifted into the air above the canopy, but waited for his beloved’s cue before leaving.

Africa

Not once did her own crippling injuries ever glance through her mind. Africa was focused intently on the fallen mare, her sister, and the cruel affliction she had suffered. Rasta, above anyone else she knew, did not deserve the labyrinth of wounds dealt to her, the withholding of nourishment, of water - the one-winged mare sighed in utter disbelief, and shook literally the budding resentment from her gentle mind. Of course the pearly-eyed mare wore valiantly her troubles like they were barely ripple in the ocean of war and hatred. It was awful, that she wished not to be fussed over and the Earth Medic would heed no such direction. One final scan revealed no trace of the grim wounds which had been (no doubt scarring would glaze over time where the flesh had torn deepest), and she felt content enough move forward.

As Rasta too moved on, answering in turn the mention of the Wildfire, their eyes nearly locked and it was enough to provoke a memory to life before her eyes – bright and real, and the Starry-Eyed could not help but be swallowed.

She found herself gazing across a body of horses. It was a meeting, in a time long ago... Midas stood at their head, a younger version she thought and knew well the troubles soon to weary his soul, and his still energetic tone spread out like a warm blanket across them all. There was much to be covered that day – Kri the Resolutes’s leave was acknowledged and her successor, the Gallant, made formal. She was ignited by the Sun himself, gifted both the tasks of spiritual leader and messenger; a privilege which now she regretted for many reasons. So too was Gaucho installed beside Midas, and alone, the bold voice of Rasta rang out.

Her words in the present echoed the warning given in that meeting, though none really heeded it then, and she imagined the same would hold true today.

She found herself lost for words as she drifted back to reality, saddened by the prospect of war and ruin, but alas, she no longer had the strength or courage to stand among the fierce Dragon herd. Quiet thought of Sohalia the Transcended crossed her mind and her expression stiffened beneath a grimace – how could a dove so delicate, ever stand against such potency. It has already changed... she sighed inaudibly... Cera had not the same warmth that she recalled from his youth – when Midas had slept beside him. Africa felt he had become a cynical soul, though fiercer still through his faith in the Sun. "Yes," she hummed tentatively, "Cera is well."

Rasta suggested water in regard to the Starry-Eyed’s offer, and pastel-yellow eyes turned to the zephyr circling above. Any berries you can find, grains or grass... and the bird wheeled out of her view. She wasn’t sure just how she might retrieve a drink – there was no Sohalia to craft crystal cups, and she wasn’t sure if the Falls had any similar plants to the Throat’s Aquis Pipe. Another sigh and she glanced back to the pale palomino. "It will be a fine thing if you can walk, Rasta. I offered you water, but goodness only knows how I might bring it here..." Throwing her forelegs out ahead, Africa heaved upwards (and away) from her friend and once standing she turned again to nuzzle her fondly – only then did she realise her own weariness, the strength gone from her body. Midas had warned her that summoning the Earth to mend would sap energy.

Africa

It came as little surprise that Rasta pursued the vague assurance that Cera, child of the Sun, was well. A distracted smile grace thin grey lips as she listened and heavy ears fell forward, flinching every so often when the murmur of a bird broke their focus – the pale palomino’s voice was lathered with concern.

Africa squirmed discreetly on the spot, almost desperate to turn the conversation right away from Dragon’s Throat business... "Honestly," she soothed, tone gentle and mild, "...when I saw Cera last, he was well. Sohalia the Transcended and I saw him rise to Diviner." She wasn’t certain whether he had been in the position when last the they had spoken, but it was definitely where he had been when she had bid the land of the Sun farewell.

"I fear neither of us are well enough for such a journey right now..."

Rasta lifted soon after the one-winged mare, smirking and making small light of the arduous trek along the cliffs that they faced next. It was a journey Africa had not often made – possibly enough simply to count on one hoof... But she chuckled softly in turn and nodded; maybe she would walk nearer to the edge so that her beloved friend could find some comfort with the wall rising as a stalwart barrier beside her.

She appreciated the Artisan’s concern, though she too wished not to bother others with the trivial woes in her life – the burden of the art just performed was nil in comparison, a gift, a pleasure. "The Earth’s power is something far greater than I imagined; I am fine though, thank you." She knew well that in time, the fatigue straining both body and mind would fade, and ecstasy far finer would ensue. After one last check over – Rasta was a bold heart after all, Africa stepped from the soft grass and up onto the first rock ledge of many to come.

She cast a careful eye along the path which would lead them into the territory behind the waterfall, and drew a long breath to hold. Hooves clattered and clicked as they strode along the rubble, hazardous path, but she lead with a brave smile and unfaltering determination. Through the veil of water, and for an hour further they walked – until the gentle sway of evergreen foliage and the harmonious hum of the wildlife within it enveloped them.

The end of the path drew near, and Africa was more than relieved when it faded away beneath her stride where the fresh Birdsong grass had risen in wake of the snow. Pleased with the accomplishment, both the unhindered journey and the healed return of her sister, the one-winged mare turned. "Doesn’t it feel good to be home?" That satisfaction had swept through her core the morning she woke beside Midas, a whole new life beginning.

Africa

"Io vegliero su di te." he promised.

"I love you..."

Whatever else she said was lost to Alleo's ears. He sighed, his eyes closing as he let the weight of Rasta's words sink into his mind. "Ti amo di più."

"I... I don't know what that means."

"It means I'm watching over you." He murmured softly, though she was already fast asleep. "And I love you more."


While Rasta slept Alleo occupied himself with watching the moon as it arced across the sky then dipped below the horizon so the sun could take its place. Rasta was still fast asleep and with daylight growing he had been more comfortable with leaving her to go in search of a healer. His muscles protested and his joints popped as he rose to a standing position. The stallion had looked down at Rasta once more before moving away to search for a healer or someone who knew where he might find one.

Alleo had very little luck locating a healer and it was then that he had cursed himself for being so distant from much of the herd. If he said that he knew any of them on a personal level it would be a boldfaced lie. The only one that he knew was Rasta. Her desire to be there was the only reason he was in the Falls. If it were only him he would be in the Edge with his sister.

He gave up on his search and had turned to go back to retrieve Rasta and bring her father into the Falls because he was positive that someone would see her and recognize that she needed a healer. Voices caught his attention and his ears tilted forward, though he paid them little mind until he recognized Rasta's voice. His head turned and he began to search for her, spotting her pale form in the distance with someone else that he didn't recognize. Big surprise there. The tall stallion cantered toward the two, slowing and finally stopping when he reached them.

"Rasta." He breathed the mare's name, his neck stretching so he could touch his muzzle to her shoulder. His mismatched gaze then moved over to the other mare, taking in her appearance before he cleared his throat and spoke. "Hello, I'm Alleo."

"."

ooc://
according to google translate |:

io vegliero su di te - i'm watching over you
ti amo di più - i love you more

The distinct drum of approaching hooves unsettled her weary state of mind and long wilting ears stiffened to heed the sound. Pale, yellow eyes glittered with anticipation as they rummaged through the trees around them, searching for any murmur in the shadows and she could not help but slide a little nearer to her pastel companion.

Briefly she passed cautious eyes across Rasta’s strangely pearlescent stare, but a broadening smile was rising through the other mare’s expression and Africa couldn’t help but linger curiously. Who is it she asked silently? Partly to Silas who was perched nearby in a tall juniper, and half also to her listening sister – though she dared not interrupt with voice.

As the zephyr skipped from one branch to another higher up, there was a muffled rustle of movement. Shrewd violet eyes picked the path of a tall, mottled stallion and they narrowed carefully. Stallion... he answered his beloved, guarding tone from simmering concern. He was unfamiliar.

Still she watched the petite palomino, and instead of the wariness that had first prickled through her coat, Africa found curiosity bubbling into her mind. All questions were answered promptly as the striking beast slipped from his cover nearby and danced to the side of her sister – the pang of protectiveness quickly faded as they caressed one another adoringly. Lean white forelegs shuffled to the side, granting his intimidating presence complete access, and she regarded him at first only with a shy nod.

There was a fresh not of elation as Rasta’s voice rang forth in turn, introducing Africa, and demurely the one-winged smiled. "Hi..." she barely whispered when she figured it was appropriate, and again the blind mare’s words slithered into existence. Her long frame swayed subtly as she watched subconsciously the weight of her friend lean against Alleo. Unsure if she should say anything further – or if they had private matters to discuss – she drew a breath and mentioned, "it is a beautiful part of the world, praise the Earth..."

A gentle, thoughtful smile curled apart her lips, as she dithered before the couple. The Starry-Eyed really was not sure what else to say.

Africa