The brush had been the easiest of gestures for the one-winged mare. She had always been an affectionate soul, intimate, and perhaps that was one of the reasons so many hearts had been broken in her care. Contact was a thing she gave freely, once upon a time she had given it without concern or forethought, but in more recent times, there was a tendency to hold back. Menagerie was different however was different – to begin with she wasn’t pumped to the brim with ravenous testosterone. The one-winged mare felt a strong affiliation with the wounded soul beside her - she whose skin was glossed with equally horrific scarring to her own. Naturally and benevolently she offered both the true warmth of her heart and foundations for a deeply rooted friendship.

Long dark-grey ears wavered uncertainly for a moment as she observed the astonishment riding the bay mare’s expression, but all too soon it was choked from existence, as a heart-wrenching glaze of emotion reddened Menagerie’s eyes. The thankful words which followed roused a bright grin to dark, velvet lips and behind them glinted the pale marbled white of her teeth – as the other mare continued, the beam broadened. "Sweet of you to say," the dappled mare crooned, "let there be many more too." An airy, girlish giggled ensued and she moved again to nuzzle her friend. She thought of her own friends suddenly, and the many fond faces that she had let fade into the grip of oblivion...

There were just a few (Menagerie, no doubt among them), that had a lingering presence in her heart.

Beyond the canopy overhead of the two mares, mauve eyes watched carefully as the lithe little zephyr demonstrated her ability – and the game to which Silas had been lured. Feathers sliced dramatically through the air as she collected the twig moments before it found its destiny among others across the forest floor. Neve’s crisp, bright hues stood out like a full midnight moon against both the undergrowth and the dimming dusky sky - she was as beautiful as a child’s dream. But the Roc was not for one second distracted from the competition, his keen nocturnal gaze was set unwaveringly upon the small limb, and when her scaled talon released its grip, he dove like a bear over salmon. Excitement spurred by rivalry cried through the air, but it did him no justice he was not as cunning as she and plunged far too quickly. Silas had never hunted like sister and fell with grappling claws into the leaf-litter beside side.

Narrow eyes scurried to find her; to see whether she had noticed his blunder, but instead they found the blazing light of Fina upon the Gallant’s rump – and he stiffened instantly with ornate crest-feathers lifting properly.

Africa turned slowly, skin beneath pale-ash flushing with hot crimson and a playful smile danced through her features. "Midas," she greeted in return, undeniably happy to see the painted Czar. "This is Minnie, from the Threshold." Softly fluttering nostrils which had been extended to welcome him forward, wandered towards the scarred mare, and her gentle eyes offered when they found her, naught but steady encouragement. "Midas is the leader of our herd, the Falls’ Czar." Of course there was far more to him, but she would not clutter this meeting, or her new friend's mind beyond need.

Africa