With all the chaos more or less working itself off, you find your eyes slowly opening again. When they do, they fall upon the mane and tail of the gray mare. Fire dances in them, in much the same way that fire dances along the wings of your friend Gaucho. Still, there is something different about the way her flames twist and curl, dance and play, weaving in and out of her hair and into the hair. Something dances within the flames- the devil himself, perhaps. Images and stories, reminders of your past failures and failures to come. You see Colt kicking a rock at you, watching as it imbeds itself into the soft tissue of your skin. Your shoulder twinges appropriately, a reminder that the rock is still buried against your bone. You see Gaucho himself, attacking you with flame. You see the lands you used to live in, your father, the king’s uncle, and Kellian. It is Kellian that scares you most of all- her eyes of flame boring into your soul. She looks so much like Elsa, and yet the two are nothing alike. Subdued, reminded of a past you try to forget, you close your eyes again and flicker your ears back to standing as Menagerie speaks.

As it is, you don’t particularly care if this has been an excellent welcome for her or not, although her sentence does at least give you a clue where you are. The Threshold, perhaps, or somewhere near it. As for Africa… you actually don’t know that she’s a part of your herd until she says so. Just barely catching the direction she tosses her muzzle in, your blurry gaze catches sight of a well-trodden path from Threshold to home. Oh good, so north is that way. Easy enough- or it seemed easy enough until you caught sight of all the bear traps littering the forest floor on that path home. You’ll have to be extra careful not to step in one… Maybe the baboons sitting in the trees will help guide you. Whatever- the nonsense earns naught but a roll of your eyes. You’re not sure when the Threshold got baboons, but you guess it isn’t the worse sort of animal that could be living here.

Easing your body from sitting to standing (a brilliant work of art, in that you manage to do it without falling over), you are all but prepared to set off home without any sort of goodbye when the flaming mare tries to classify you. Unhinged. In as many ways as it is accurate, you don’t really want her to think she can get away with saying whatever the heck she wants about you. “I’m perfectly hinged,” you grump back at her curtly. “Though if you would like a lesson in unhinging, I’d be happy to give you one.” Cocking a hind foot out, you consider your variety of magics and which one would be the most interesting to assault her with. As a warning, of course. It is your companion who finally obliges, since she notices that your decision making skills are terribly poor at the moment. Picking up a near-by rock, she tosses it just hard enough at Africa to satisfy your need for chaos.

With a final snort, satisfied enough with the boggart’s actions, you set off down the indicated path, taking strange sideways steps and stopping frequently to look up and watch the baboons as they point at traps and tricks along the path. Perhaps to the two behind you, you look perfectly insane; nevertheless, you are right at home in your head.


OOC| Sorry for the delay, Oxy out ^.^

Oxy