Perhaps she had travelled too far, missed a landmark (had been too careless to remember) or just simply forgotten how the Threshold was dressed. As Africa’s gliding path curved into a large circle, her lofty gaze narrowed in dismay. Her intension, as pure and naive as it had been, was to relocate the place that she had begun here in Helovia only days ago, and start to explore her new world from there. She had been so confident, believing that if she travelled as directly north as she could, that the region would simply reveal itself once again- a task as effortless as it had been the first time.

Below, she watched a snaking river cut through a jagged mountain range. Extending her view further, the confused mare witnessed a growing mass of shimmery blue, swallow that same river where it tried suddenly to break out into the ocean. Africa shook her head, unsettled and bemused at the unfolding situation she seemed trapped by. Again she wheeled around, this time to the left, her grey feathered wings pressing powerfully against the shift in warm air. Levelling off over what seemed to be a saddle in the range, the mare was startled when a thick fog engulfed her; a cloud of sorts that she had not previously taken notice of, and the cold vapour licked at her warm coat hungrily.

Without delay (and driven by the flighted creature’s instinct perhaps), Africa lifted herself in a frenzy of flapping, dishevelled feathers, hunting for the opaque clouds apex. Wide, straining eyes struggled, but finally found the welcoming embrace of pale blue sky and curiously she noted that it hovered above a well concealed pasture. Both surprised and relieved, the young horse descended quickly, her neat round hooves cutting into the security of the lushly grassed loam. She stood quite still there, shifting her eyes nervously about. The space seemed so empty, unknown perhaps, except for the unmistakably harsh crashing of rock on rock echoing brashly off the outlying mountain walls surrounding. She turned and an apprehensive prickle of goose-bumps rose along her spine. The disconcerted horse turned again quickly, scouring the crags and crevices around her for the source of that reckless crashing.

It would be a massive understatement if it were to be said that the impressionable grey Pegasus was both unsure, and very much intimidated by the arrival and thuggish attitude of the other horse- with a horn sticking out of his forehead. Africa took an increasingly troubled step away from him as he transgressed, regardless of her very obvious desire for personal space. Not once had she encountered such a being as he, and she shivered- a nervous impulse, at the same time turning to pluck (like one might chew their nails or suck their thumb) a feather, or two from her tightly clenched wing. There was no time though and she jolted away from his imposing presence, flinging her face away, when he paused (she indeed presumed he would continue forward), barely feet from her hunched, unavoidably cowardly form.

His voice was grotesque, putrid like algae filming across the surface of a stagnant pond, as it fingered her flickering ears- but she answered like a fool, inexperience shining like gloss through her wide eyes. Maybe a wise horse would have at that point, fled. “I’m lost...” She declared believing that he was genuinely interested while, tucking her chin defensively at his next advancement; leaning his head in close to her own. The sun stroked her dappled back though it did not feel warm at all; the air was thin here and bitterly cold when she drew an anxious breath and held it. All of a sudden (and perhaps directly influenced by this creature’s presence), the Throat didn’t seem so suffocatingly hot at all- in fact, Africa now wished a great deal, that she hadn’t been overcome by this wretched craving to explore at all!

She exhaled sharply at the closeness of his face, unusually bold but perhaps more so unhappy with him. “Africa...” Came the mumbled retort, and she swayed across her slender legs for a second gracelessly, unbalanced as his eyes scraped menacingly across her now trembling body. “...and you are?” In some respects, almost immediately after she had spoken, Africa wished that she had just not. If she had simply held her tongue and closed her eyes tightly enough, maybe that horrible horse would have just vanished- he might never have been there at all. She closed her eyes anyway; blocking him out the best (and possibly the most foolish) way she could think of.

The high pitched call of an eagle resounded eerily through the grass expanse, causing Africa to open her eyes and blink skyward. It was a passing glance though; the eagle swept swiftly, effortlessly out of sight and in the same second, the rough voice of the persistent stallion broke the harmony of the out-of-place moment. She failed to notice at first, that he blatantly ignored her own question to him; the encounter was progressing so quickly and from Africa’s immature perspective, it was out of control. “What are you so scared of?” He asked her, almost spitting her name and she inadvertently dwelled on the question- wasting time, her pallid eyes narrowing as the horned horse all-to-abruptly altered his approach.

Initially she was relieved by his drastic change in heart, a meek and gullible half-smile finding purchase across her thin black lips. The urge to turn and pull feathers pulsed through her ears (she was quite stressed), but she could not break the fix his dark, sinister looking eyes held her own (brighter looking ones) with. Accidentally, and completely oblivious to his true intensions, Africa shifted her weight across each foreleg; in turn her clean right hoof lifted and fell heavily atop the delicate, wispy feathers she had previously plucked. For now she held that position, transfixed.

His ‘new’ voice cleared the small space between them smoothly, and apparently as charmingly as the bully could muster, and Africa nodded grimly and sincerely in response- she sighed remembering her predicament and stole the distracting moment to wonder where she was. So sweet-natured was she that the young horse was already pardoning her company of the bullying manner of his initiation of their conversation. She knew no other way. He (thankfully) graced her a little more breathing space, and she settled slightly beneath his shadowing, somewhat domineering presence.

“I’m sorry...” She began, hoping to refresh his memory and probe him for an identity, “...I missed your name.” Again she offered the humble smile, preparing herself for a more suitable continuation of their meeting- he had obviously left his manners, well, wherever it was that he called home. She followed his lead unconsciously, sucking deeply the fresh mountain air and watched quietly as her exhale seeped ever upward, eventually and most probably blending with his, far above their heads.

Horrified and taken aback, Africa’s stomach began to churn as the stallion’s rollercoaster behaviour began to take a toll on her quickly fraying nerves. She balked as he seemed to hiss threateningly, "You should be” - a warning that even she could not misunderstand. Her fore-hooves dragged along the supple grass as she shied, mashing those feathers so that they were quite unrecognizable. An open frown broke through her gentle smile, flat off-white teeth parting fearfully when he pinned his ears angrily, though there was no time for her to ponder why. The large brute stamped aggressively forward, towards Africa, and she jumped back again defensively.

His immense agitation and anger towards the young horse befuddled her simpleness, and a hot flush rose through her face causing her open, alarmed eyes to swell with heavy tears. A notch caught in her throat in the same moment and Africa could do nothing to stop herself crying as he insulted her; with wicked and cruel eyes, thirsting over her fragile wings. She opened them in a panicked fluster, but there was nowhere to go, it wasn’t as easy and just flapping and lifting away into the refuge of beckoning blue sky above. She needed more space and her eyes began to search around him desperately for an escape route, but he closed in on her further- the spindle of his horn tempting her viciously to pivot and turn away.

Her pale white-grey cheeks were ever more stained as she began to sob uncontrollably in front of the stallion, and despair seemed to overwhelm her fear. Again the heat in his demanding words scathed her flattening ears, and suddenly his intention was as clear as daylight. Africa had absolutely no intention of ‘giving’ him her feathers (she did not ordinarily even think about it when she did pluck them), and in a brazen attempt to rid herself of the predator, the young horse quickly tried to spin around to the left, balanced unthinkingly with partially stretched wings- those which swished carelessly past where the stallion’s face had been, overbearingly close to her own.

The situation was a blur spinning uncontrollably around Africa. Her heart drummed to a violent beat (a sensation beyond her level of understanding), and the pulse of blood through her frightened body echoed deafeningly within her flattened ears. Adding to the weight of dread bruising her green soul, the stallion seemed to feed off her involuntary reaction, the tireless dark glow of his penetrating eyes following her always, laughing callously at her misery. It was certain that the easily influenced Africa would not quickly forget this, her first encounter with a horned horse.

To her, the attack seemed to play out in sickening slow motion. She failed to see the stallion lifting his face as she pivoted away, his teeth fastening around the longest (and possibly most important) of her black flight feathers. Africa jolted to a standstill at the unexpected sting of her tightly rooted feather being pulled, and it snapped halfway down the shaft. Copious amounts of adrenaline were pumping through the young mare’s body and a light tingle lingered briefly where the remaining part clashed against the next, dishevelled.

Africa had executed only half the escape she had intended, and wavering slightly on the spot where she had come to, the mare watched the mean horse become sidetracked; a second stallion swept to her side. She had no time, perhaps no energy left, to react. The words though; his meditative voice, they nursed Africa’s disquiet and softened the serrated edges of her crippling fear. At first she couldn’t find his face through the blending chaos of events in her mind, but given the chance to breathe and renew her focus, the grey mare was comforted to find Midas (the first Helovian she had ever met, and brethren also now), positioning himself between her, and the horned stallion.

No smile rose upon her quivering lips in response, but her tears did cease, and their fresh warmth quickly faded upon her stained cheeks as the bitter air festered around the three horses. The build up of lactic acid in her muscles and sudden emotional fatigue prevented Africa from moving herself to safety for now- her long lean legs shuddered as they supported her, ever enduring, but she did not return to face the monster. She did not wish to see those lusting eyes ever again; she could still feel them boring against her flinching hide. A pitiful sob slipped between her clenched teeth as Midas addressed her aggressor. She could not avoid feeling a little surprised by his confidence (considering the situation), and the fluidity of his directive towards the other. She blushed, choking on another sob but containing it so that she might not look quite as ridiculous as she all of a sudden felt- now that Midas was here of course.