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Inattentively, the young dapple grey mare’s fresh swinging stride covered the winding sandy path of many before her. It was narrow, as it snaked out beneath bouncing face, like a slick red runner flanked by thinly carpeting grass. Africa’s bright, cream eyes darted this way and that, absorbing the rich beauty of her new home- no matter how surreal and contrasting life in a desert seemed from her raw, quite inexpert perspective. Robust round hooves carelessly scattered brittle shale as she passed, ever guided by the alluring aroma of the central blue lake’s water. So early in the day there was no breeze to balance the thick humid warmth of the air throughout the oasis, and a light sweat began to fleck the young mare’s dappled hide, glimmering as the growing sunlight broke out of the eastern horizon.
Although the near vicinity seemed devoid of the family Midas had promised her, Africa’s pricked, listening ears soaked up the barrage of white noise flooding the air. The high pitched whistle of one bird shattered the long tuneful song of another; a myriad of eccentric calls and hectic chatter to comfort Africa’s mounting nervousness. She had imagined, during the lengthy flight with Midas from the Threshold, there to be far fewer trees here and clusters of horses rushing about, buried in the weight of their responsibility- though her presumptions for the most part, could not have been any further from reality. The Throat was vast, far wider and more thriving than she could have expected- even as her eyes had laid their fist claim upon it the evening before. For now she assumed the natives were swallowed, hidden away in the scrubby grove where they worked- Africa yearned for duty, though she had never in her short life, held any sort of responsibility before.
The smooth, progressive lope of another animal (much smaller than a horse) broke through the mare’s dreamy thoughts. Her own tread paused when the creature appeared to train its direction on her, one foreleg suspended in uneasy waiting. She was not unfamiliar with the presence of wolves, foxes and canines alike- but they were lowly creatures as was her understanding, and horses did not bother themselves to mingle. An ear pivoted backwards finding refuge in the thick tangle of her unkempt mane and her eyes narrowed, catching the shining smile in his eyes though she was quite unsure how to react. Curiously, the animal seemed to walk with intelligent confidence, as though sure of itself and undaunted by her presence. She was quick to spot the unnatural (in her opinion) sharpness of unpleasant white teeth in its mouth, and tilted her white face to the side, unable to peel her staring eyes away.
It (he) spoke then, and Africa snorted in surprise though her expression softened considerably, accepting perhaps. "Hello, my lady," Her stray ear returned swiftly to rest forward beside its curiously erect partner. "Might you be able to tell me which land it is we stand upon?" The young horse wondered how the wolf came to find itself here of all places, in the centre of an arid wasteland. She pitied it briefly, considering its apparent luck for not becoming lost and perishing before finding refuge here- the modest wolf after all, could not fly to save its life. “This is Dragons Throat.”. Africa informed him matter-of-factly, though it was never her intention to offend, and the undertone of her voice was sincerely accommodating. “Are you passing through?” She asked cautiously and not favouring him with her identity, though she was more than ready to warn him that outside the comfort of this refuge he might not fare so well. Attentively she noted the thick, long coat which he wore.
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
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