After a long day spent foraging in the Threshold, the long-legged grey stumbled jadedly along the path that led home. It had been a rather unproductive day, not at all eventful, yet still her joins ached as though she had crossed the entire length of Helovia and back...twice! Her breathing was more laboured, eyelids like heavy curtains falling across glazed eyes, and there was an unusually lethargic trend to her step – certainly not the long, springing stride of only months before.

Silas... she burst at last, pausing just south of the cascading water which marked both borderline and entrance to her home. I just have no idea what’s wrong with me lately.

The zephyr’s chest rumbled with concern – he too had noticed the rather dramatic change, although, his beloveds thoughts of late had been refreshingly light.

The one-winged mare sighed deeply. It was frustrating that she was returning empty handed; she had set out with a grand plan to find something special and a traveller along the way. The forest had been remarkably quiet however, humid, with revoltingly stagnant air. Had she owned a wiser mind, Africa might had heeded the moan of her thickening body and soaked herself instead all day in the pool by her cave – she was not particularly clever however, and wearily she stumbled north with a lathery sweat cloak, thick across her frame.

Her companion descended as cascading water appeared through the tree line; it was a familiar sight and a relief, because she really wasn’t sure how much longer she could walk. The roar filled the atmosphere around her and long ears hastened backwards beneath curling flames; sandy eyes travelled upwards to trace the line of the towering cliffs against blue. Often she scaled their height by wing, but more recently her energy had been lacking (enough to warrant sleep by the foot instead).

The feathers lining her lonely wing ruffled. The waterfall’s spray gathered into glimmering beads across her already sodden coat, spilling rivulets towards the stone beneath her stride as she crept ever nearer. Longingly she glanced by the bubbling pool, but she could only guess the strength of the torrents twisting beneath – to swim would risk drowning, something she feared more than old age. Tentatively she skirted the edge and slipped into the cave beyond.

The sound of falling water filled the short, narrow passage through the ruined mountain - deafeningly - and she failed to hear the voice ringing through the realm beyond. Had she known another of her former home lingered there, she might have turned right around and skulked back to wilt in the Threshold. As it were, with Silas riding high upon her rump, the Starry-Eyed turned the final bend and stepped out right behind the large winged bay...

“Oh!” she bleated, startling back across coiled thighs, “Goodness...” Megaera’s was a face she had not seen in many seasons, and her backside was not one she recalled quickly. However, the dull sheen of desert dust dampened across her hid by sweat was unmistakable. “What are you doing here?” she blurted in her haste.

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