It had been a short mission to the Threshold, well concealed by night’s all-smothering cloak, and as sunlight probed spindly dusty fingers through the sparse pine canopy overhead, Africa woke with a start to find a great chorus heralding the arrival of morning. For a moment bleary eyes struggled to make sense of their surroundings, a wall of towering haggard old wood, rotten leaves and needles all meshed as fetid carpet; no sign of the rough mountain face which should still have thrown heavy shade across the portico to her nest beneath, the billowy green grass, nor even the constant-like company of the majestic old waterfalls dotting the region. Long sooty ears swayed confusedly, but Silas was soon fluttering down and perching with his ever-delicate grip between her pointed hips.

I forgot... she mentioned, thoughts soft and retiring, and the zephyr clucked tenderly in response – all was well. He had watched all night while his bonded slept; though restless and stained by foul dreams it had been.

Africa stretched the stiffness from her legs in succession, and her knees cracked and creaked beneath the sway of her recovering weight. She had not fared so terribly after the grim confrontation with Silk which had both surprised and pleased her doting companion. He had expected wholly for her to sink once again into the oblivion of depression, perhaps too in the process damaging the part feathered wing for good in the process. But she had spent a small while in mourning – loss and emptiness that she had really only truly realised once he had slipped out of her grip, only to step again with a fresher, lighter heart again to the new life which she had chosen.

No travellers through the night.

Then quickly she realised why she had ventured from the comforts of her home.

And none this morning...

Pale eyes turned towards Silas, flames curling brilliantly above her bending crest, and a fond smile teased her coal-coloured lips. It’s a shame there are no falls near. The Starry-Eyed had grown quite fond of the cool pools and the cascading water that fed them; never had her puddly grey coat been in cleaner condition. They set off through the trees a short time later to forage for food, berries if they could find any – which were very much their preferred Birdsong snack.

Ripe fruit was few and far between however, and Africa found herself venturing further and further from the safety of Hidden Falls. Silas searched from above, snatching and cracking acorns whenever he came across a lonely oak to plunder. He was distracted, oblivious to the stranger feeding on tart Threshold grass; at least until his one-winged bonded had stumbled upon him, and another who wore upon his skull a spiralling horn. Her heart rattled terribly, nervously, echoing through both minds, as she swayed hesitantly just beyond the tree line nearby. “Hello,” she whispered faintly, face dancing as low as her knees, as unthreatening and passive as she could possibly appear.

Four eyes set quickly upon her.

Two were bright like sunlit sapphires, mellowed by compassion and warmth. The face behind was pale, girt in flowing white (tips hinting of subtle rose-red), and it swayed low in friendly fashion; a smile peeling across snowy lips.

Quite in contrast, the second pair of watching eyes were bronze - frivolous and filled to the brim with wild immaturity – and they leapt back aboard a too-long face with white spilling down its front. The Unicorn colt gasped bluntly, before stilling his composure and exaggeratedly rocking his weight off a tipping hoof. He seemed to Africa to be ungainly, brash, but equally endearing.

A coy smile slipped through her expression as her ashen face lifted to regard each male with a quiet nod. Although she and the chestnut lad both dwelled in the same paradise, she had not before seen him – not noticed him at the meeting, for her attention had been square upon the Ascended to the front. There would have been just no distracting her. When the stallion spoke, his tone was so gentle that she likened it the sound of a hummingbird’s wings; delicate, subtle. To him she snorted softly, and then the (obviously) youngest amongst them began to froth a vast stream of words – without, she mused, pausing to breath.

Demurely she replied. “Well met Kipling...” she glanced to the white in turn and her glinting eye embraced him thoughtfully. “...Arrane, it’s nice to meet you both. I am from the Falls, yes.” she laughed softly when silence descended like a welcome cloud about them and took it upon herself to pluck a rogue leaf from the colt’s thin mane. Fondly she turned a pale eye towards him, curious to see if anything else lay in waiting behind his eager jaws.

When he failed to say anything further, the Starry-Eyed began.

“The boy speaks truth. Perhaps you seek somewhere to rest after a long journey? Let us extend our home’s hospitality to you.” She offered brief gesture towards a half-hidden path winding away through the trees; it curled northeast and she had followed it on many occasions to and from Hidden Falls.