In recent weeks Africa had returned to the Threshold forest again, and again. It had become part of a mind numbing ritual, a distraction from the tides of grief and guilt that seemed to swell with the weather; the gloom before rain helped little to quell surging torrents of tears, though the clearest days, when all of His glorious sunlight bled down upon her, clarity numbed all thought. She had not lifted prayer to the heavens for many months (at least since her fall from grace, from Dragon’s Throat), but since her grim encounter with Satanic Silk, the emptiness was growing too much.

Fire...

But light-golden eyes fluttered open, startled by her own conviction, by the desperation of her heart. She was terrified of Him it was true, though always He had showered her with generous gifts and titles; never had the God of the Sun been anything more menacing than benevolent. Guilt plagues you. Silas mentioned often, in passing, but her faith swayed terribly now that the power of the Earth was swimming through her veins – He would be furious... The Starry-Eyed blinked softly, vaguely, and her slim ashen face turned back to the stone littered path winding down from the Falls.

As he often did, Silas trailed behind, pausing to dine on ripening acorns that seemed more prolific in these northernmost forests than through any other. Despite the disfavour his beloved showed for the oak-nuts, he could barely resist the (now frequent) opportunity to forage through the decorated tree tops. It was for this reason that the preoccupied zephyr had failed to reveal the presence of another along the way.

Africa too was distracted, though she had trained her stride well to move without sound; almost too without trace. Wherever thick grass tussocks bulged out from beneath the heavy mat of forest litter, careful hooves were placed upon them – and so too loose gravel or anything else which might better conceal her lowly travelling. Above, gentle eyes roamed through the trees scattered ahead, blind to the waltzing shadows and flittering birdlife; seeing naught but a haze of pained memories and entirely unaware of the unfamiliar mare beneath the soft wilt of the willow nearby.

‘Hey!’

Long ears pricked suddenly, the left swivelling back suddenly to roost beneath plumes of curling fire, and Africa paused with one knee still crooked high above the ground. The voice continued, demanding and threatening, and she hesitated anxiously, truly not hungry for confrontation that day.

Warily she cast her eyes left and right, and turned on the spot to survey the path behind – there was no one there that she could see, and a nervous sigh escaped her lungs. Only as she was fidgeting back around again, did Africa notice the blur of movement beneath, inside, the tree. Both ears pitched backwards as she approached, a look of bewilderment ripe across her features.,. “Is someone in there?” More voices, panicked, and a shrill whinny burst from somewhere within the bowed branches, and Africa jumped with surprise as dark a rump emerged to her front. “Woah...” Chin tucked promptly and chipped hooves staggered backwards should the rear continue in reverse.

Silas!

Beyond the mass of seal-bay rump, there was the thrashing movement of another horse - the stallion whose voice had snapped through the tense air barely moments before. Though whipping willow obscured much of her view, the bewildered Africa could at least make out his graceless fall backwards and her eyes widened still further. Oxy? It was the idiot in the Threshold years ago, though straining to see she was sure; and ironically, he was the same titled soldier who had fronted up to a recent meeting back home in the Falls. At the time she had been distracted by their mutual Czar, the Ascended, but suddenly the puzzle pieces seemed to merge together.

Unexpectedly, a violent tremor shook the ground. The meek smile that had emerged for the sake of such surprise recognition soon fell clear into oblivion. She braced awkwardly as her body rocked and teetered clumsily above the swaying earth.

All the while, the other mare - the hind with still no face to remember, had become more; a lashing, swishing mass of ebony tendrils. The Starry-Eyed’s raised face danced from side to side, well clear of all moving flesh. The other began to sway too as the world unbalanced below them, and the part-feathered, lonely wing down to her right lifted in defence – her credulous gaze almost turned too, to search for Ampere who seemed to be a magnet for chaos just like this.

With Silas growing ever more agitated above (having slipped from his meal to find his beloved in peril), Africa wondered if perhaps she should have just stayed at home in mourning. Surely that would have given less grief!

The earth stilled after what seemed to be hours, and Africa peered cautiously around her before striding from out from cover – words were writhing between the billowy willow tree with all the potency of snakes coiled to strike. “What on earth was that!” the gentle note of her feminine voice filled a sudden void of silence, “...and Oxy, what are you carrying on about?” Eyes had narrowed intently and she pulled her still scrawny, underfed frame between them, to face head on the stallion with a fixed look of disgruntlement. She was sure it was him, and for that reason alone (they both hailed from the Falls which meant she was safe), she braced her shoulders boldly forward.

The stallion’s behaviour seemed erratic, unsettlingly so, and the Starry-Eyed could only offer a helplessly sympathetic glance towards the unfamiliar bay mare. What an unfortunate introduction to Helovia – for what other reason would there be for her to linger still beneath the draped arms of limber willow in the Threshold. She soon realised her accuracy, it was indeed Oxy, and his rambling had not for a second completed. Words tumbled from his lips and his thick head rocked as unsteadily as a lissom leaf, fondled by the breeze wafting by. Africa still had not the slightest clue as to what had occurred; she had waded so obliviously, right into the midst their indigent swamp with all of the courage her feeble heart could muster.

Butterflies?

Silas drew a similar blank – from his lofty perspective, naught but twirling green foliage and bumbling bodies was visible.

The stallion fell silent suddenly, abruptly, and creamy, confused eyes skimmed his lips for any sign of restraint. Nothing... Silas, is he insane? The zephyr began a hurried descent, concerned by the sequence of events unfolding, and still more by the pluming perplexity in her mind.

Gaze slipped from Oxy’s diluted attention; his eyelids had closed inconveniently, peculiarly, like they just had no more strength to bare the scene before them... Or because his interest had faded altogether – she was not sure. She turned to the mare who chuckling; tendrils of midnight-black writhing about her as she shook her head. The other certainly raised a fair point, and Africa nodded with a light grimness tainting her gentle expression. “This isn’t normal...” the one-winged insisted vaguely as the Legatus asked finally for directions. His tone was freakishly calm, as though a completely different pair of lungs had fuelled it.

“As in, Hidden Falls?” Soft voice questioned, unsure why he would not remember the way – just a hop skip and a jump to the north – himself. Is he serious? Dazed, she gestured towards the path that would see him home. “Follow that...”

Eyes glazed with disbelief, Africa turned at last back towards her – more rational – company. “Sorry, I am Africa, from Hidden Falls, like him.” A thoughtful smile teased the wrinkled corners of her sooty-grey mouth, and she dipped her face politely. “We are not all so...” Rude? Stoned? Half-witted? “...unhinged.” The grin broadened hopefully, and two neat rows of pearly off-whites glinted in the shifting, dappled sunlight. The curious posture of the other’s skull (the way it seemed to follow the shade), had not passed by the Starry-Eyed’s notice. She watched curiously and asked, “Would you be more comfortable in the shadows? There are many back home.”