Africa had not ventured out of the Throat; her sanctuary of sorts, for nearly a week. The comfort and grace of her home was far more attractive than the terror that had befallen her, that very first (still vivid) expedition she had endeavoured to take through Helovia, all those days ago. Still, she was not a hermit at heart and even as she recovered in strength and courage, the young grey Pegasus felt the growing tickle of curiosity, stir within.

This time, she took flight during the brightest part of the day, considering with utmost certainty and care that it would allow her ample opportunity to learn the path she followed, and return home in complete safety- before the threat of nightfall (apparently horrors walked these lands, and Africa was not at all keen to encourage their encounter again, especially after dark). With new meticulousness, her pale creamy eyes sketched the lay of her home- beyond the oasis in particular, and still ever more intimately as she crossed the Throat’s desert border. She flew north, as high as her well adapted lungs would allow given that the air grew bitterly cold the further she climbed, and it thinned and became seemingly impossible to inhale. Never the less, the nervous horse felt at peace and secure, wrapped tightly in the clean blue blanket of sky- far more so than she would probably ever let herself feel on the ground, exposed, again.

She drew a long deep breath, savouring the crisp midday breeze as it gathered in a rush beneath the press of her flapping wings. Travelling swiftly and without hesitation, Africa let her eyes descend to the blending patchwork of landscape below. She was currently travelling above a grassland (she could not tell that the grass was quite high; enough to maybe shelter a horse completely), and quickly it gave way to strange red-brown loam. The sun glistened brightly far above her tilting head, and as she gazed down she saw that it seemed to reflect off many, perhaps hundreds of tiny matter (they were gemstones flickering happily in the sheer brilliance of Tallsun, but the mare was ignorant to this). Africa smiled quietly, suckered by the beauty and extravagance of what she saw, but the gesture was fleeting as she wheeled left dramatically and suddenly.

The earth seemed to open into a great gaping fissure- smoke curled upwards, even as high as she, and she coughed roughly at the charred taste that filled her nostrils. Anxiety began to leak from her throbbing heart and she swept away from the inferno, unsettled and not at all eager to find herself in a new brand of trouble. Midas, as wonderful as he was, would simply not be there every time strife found her; consciously she knew she had to learn quickly, and look out for herself if she were to be a successful Throat member. So she fled that unknown place, not quite ready to face its challenge yet.

Africa sailed still further, having switched her direction slightly west. A meadow, vast and clear for the most part came into view and the young grey horse imagined it to be rather bland- which was a good sign. A river sliced through its centre, and that is to where she descended. Hovering momentarily, with her large feathery wings fanning the flow of water powerfully beneath, she carefully inspected the surroundings. There was a spray of horses a small distance away; a couple of old, woody oak trees quenching their thirst at the water’s edge also, but Africa could see nothing significant, or nobody close by. Certainly nothing resembling that black and white thug, who had a giant horn sticking out of his ugly face. She shuddered and dropped, settling her hooves on the sandy bank of the river.

Treating herself to a sweet tasting drink, Africa ruffled her wings and tucked them gently against her rounded grey barrel. She turned then, her thirst more than quenched, before climbing up the gently shifting slope and into the long swishing grass of the meadow. Violet flowers danced lazily in the warm meander of the afternoon breeze and their prickly thistle cases snagged in the languid twitch of her tail. Quite suddenly, they grey mare happened upon the rump (and then body) of another horse collapsed on the ground, a strangely coloured one and she paused cautiously, her foreleg suspended in waiting. “Hello?” Came the nervous trickle of her voice, “I did not see you there, sorry.” Africa hoped that she hadn’t been a bother, waking them perhaps- but more so, that they weren’t preparing to leap up and savage her in any feral, ill-tempered manner. This was an accident after all, and the grey wasn’t quick witted enough to simply turn and vanish away into the swaying grass.

A sudden puff of wind crossed the meadow and the long golden fronds of grass danced wildly to the inaudible rhythm of an oncoming seasonal shift. It tousled Africa’s long thick mane into loose tangles, which flapped languidly across her neck when the young grey mare lifted her face. It was a mare that lay before her, that much became apparent when she leapt with haste to her feet, startled perhaps just as much as Africa had been. The first thing that struck the grey after her company had found her feet was the small, see-through horn between her bright fuchsia eyes. Right then, nothing else seemed to matter. Her own pale brown eyes narrowed cautiously, observing the other as a whole, and her sinewy hide rippled as she stiffened defensively. She had learned that no good came from this sort; they were unpredictable and unreasonably savage. Africa took one step backwards, preparing herself, though her naturally sweet demeanour never swayed as she did so.

A few moments slipped idly between the two horses, each apparently assessing the other, and enough time lapsed that the young mare’s tingling nerves eased somewhat. The light purple horse (curiously), began to speak soon enough and Africa’s ears flickered forward, pausing to listen. A meek smile crept across her thin grey lips- Vy, it seemed, was rather more sociable than her obnoxious black and white brother (the grey mare presumed this relationship of course, much like she had been accepted as a sister amongst those Pegasus who dwelt in Dragons Throat- well Midas anyway). Finally, “I am Africa.” Came the softly murmured reply, the smile persistent and reassuring should Vy be genuine in her supposed warmth. Quickly and directly, the green mare added as though it held some relevance, “From Dragons Throat...”

Ordinarily, Africa was unfazed by the wildlife roaming through Helovia- there was an abundance of creatures to behold, just as there had been throughout her childhood in Nyorm. They neither scored her interest, nor did they strike panic. However, as she was standing face to face with the violet mare, a wolf strolled up to them, lost perhaps... or confused. The grey mare tilted her head away vigilantly as the canine paused to her right, and her dappled body followed quickly- though she never let her eyes stray from the unnervingly close proximity of the predator. A bewildered snort burst through her flared nostrils, as the animal’s wagging tail snatched her attention. Africa looked to the other horse helplessly, completely unsure of the situation unfolding and moved from the space engulfing the wolf to (hide) stand aside Vy. At least, if there was any strain simmering between the two horses, the arrival of this creature was a great distraction, and Africa soon forgot her apprehension.

Africa stared astonished, fidgeting on the spot uncomfortably when the wolf smiled sincerely before introducing herself- she could not help as her gaping eyes trained on the lash of crimson tongue against two rows of jagged, unfriendly looking teeth.

“Wait, you are from the Throat?” Africa blurted ignorantly, and not by any means in a rude fashion, almost immediately after Ayaka had finished. She shook her head lightly as though it might clear the confusion, or sort the information she had received into some rational order. “You’re a... wolf?” She continued loosely, the inexperience shining like sunlight on a pond through her searching, disbelieving eyes. Indeed Africa had not long lived in that oasis in the desert, but it seemed to her to be unrealistic that a wolf would share her home- her family. Despite her very obvious disorientation, the young horse smiled thoughtfully and lowered her whiskered muzzle to scent the wolf’s long coffee coat- sure enough, that thick dry dust was carried there, and the young horse was more than amazed.

Open your mind! her mother had said so many times (though it seemed so long ago now, like only a dream in her memory), and perhaps she was starting to understand, piece by piece, the magical tales delicately- but so deliberately woven through her imagination. “I am Africa she beamed- and this is Vy, my friend.” She turned to the other horse with shining eyes, expecting wholly to catch the same wonder radiating.