The tall, antlered stallion’s golden pelt seemed to ignite exquisitely where he paused within range of the illumination she shed. Soft flaxen forelock framed his curious, emerald eyes and though their gaze was trained to the light woven through the long threads of her thick mane, she watched them brightly, unwaveringly with childlike delight fashioned through her feminine features. Her enthusiasm fed ravenously from his, and any trace of the shyness which had been seemed to dissolve into the giddy atmosphere. Her smile never faded into the murk of the night around them; only grew as they lingered longer together.

After a moment’s hesitation perhaps, the softest brush of his eyes against hers, he covered the remaining distance (though small it was already). Africa held her breath excitedly as though it were her plunging into the hungry flames of Helovia’s Heart, and his face slid out of range towards her neck. She could not feel even the slightest caress of his breath while she waited, but the fire clothing her hair danced all the brighter for her heightened mood. Only a small amount of time slipped by before he recoiled, and the dapple grey mare’s chiselled skull bounced enthusiastically – desperate to learn his reaction.

Socked limbs shuffled, hooves thudded quietly against their grassy platform, and the stallion shook the heavy length of his mane. Beyond his stunned expression, strange decorations swung noisily to and fro and Africa’s easily distracted eye was drawn to their presence. She had seen antlers similar to those jutting from his poll (presumably, there was a lot of hair slumped around their base), on the Basin mare Arah, the Wildfire and meek Adelis. The curious trinkets though, or jars, or something, really took her fancy. His tongue was far swifter though, and the sound of his amazement pierced her thoughts.

“I There’s lots of magic here in Helovia,” she hummed cheerfully, guessing quickly that he a journey - like the one she had taken many years ago – had brought him here. Still her eyes lingered amid the branching bone above, though they wandered curiously back at the mention of his name; so too did he confirm her cunning theory about his wandering. “I’m Africa,” mellow tones replied, spilling from still smiling lip, and when she noted the swivel of his attention to the wilderness surrounding, the one winged mare added, “Welcome!”

There was no nervous residue about her demeanour - he like so few that passed through this threshold, seemed entirely harmless and she could barely help release of fraught energy from her pelt. It had melted from view many minutes before. “Am I the first you’ve spoken too, Tilney? Have you a place to rest yet?” she probed curiously and perhaps a little too eagerly. He was a pleasant character though with infectious confidence.