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“There are, of course, the soldiers...” Africa could not help but close her eyes for a moment as the still vivid impression of that wretched stallion bullying her for a feather high in the mountains to the north, danced through her mind. Midas had come from nowhere to her defence, perhaps even saving her life. He is a soldier, she thought quietly, and opened her eyes again thoughtfully. Then, Sohalia explained that he was in fact a General in charge, and the young horse blushed self-consciously, cursing herself for having bothered him with her careless wanderings and trouble. Perhaps she should look upon him more respectfully from this point forward; maybe she should mind herself entirely and stay clear of his business.
Africa certainly did not want to become a soldier- the fight she had witnessed on that field was brutal and bloody, quite the opposite to her plan.
The white mare continued, “We also have our informants, led by the Sleuth Xira. They are... well, I suppose the easiest way to describe their role is to compare them to spies...” The concept intrigued Africa’s simple mind, yet she struggled to see herself as such; her nature was not cunning, nor clever. She thought about Lana who had recently escaped the Basin, and about Athena, who the filly had claimed was still trapped. All of this had definitely excited the unassuming young horse, but from a fairy-tale perspective- such fitted easily into the moulds shaped by her mother. Spying and reporting seemed an immense task, and not one well suited to an inexperienced newcomer who knew only the basics about Helovian life and culture. No, no... she shook her head, thinking as she listened.
A dragonfly paused with delicate precision across stretched legs on the surface of the blue water. Its slight weight caused barely a ripple to break Africa’s near perfect reflection- the unexpected pounce of an eel’s gaping mouth however did, and the young mare’s focus darted towards the suddenness of the movement in time only to find the serpent-like creature’s shining scales slipping away into the deep dark water below. She snorted lightly, returning quickly while Sohalia continued to explain the ranks, and what each position tended. It was just the information Africa had unwittingly be searching for and an appreciative smile decorated her otherwise concentrating expression. It seemed her herd-sister understood her intentions, and the grey’s flailing method of explanation.
“"The Oracle is in charge of the Pupils - or, rather, the scholars of the herd.” Sohalia went on, and Africa’s ears pricked curiously, finding the notion of scholar more interesting and less... dangerous. Her eyes sparkled, and she made certain to absorb every word and all the detail that was offered. The grey loved lore, and travelling; and she loved all matter of plants. She could not imagine all that the role might entail, there was so much out there and Africa was easily overwhelmed.
To Africa, Sohalia seemed so wise and knowing, and she could not help nodding enthusiastically, more than encouraged by the mare’s forthcoming nature and willingness to help. “I know... let's see... what else? Oh, you could visit Onni or Cirrus about being a healer.” Again Africa’s thoughts flicked back to that fretful day. Midas had inflicted such a gash on the poor horrible stallion, her aggressor, and pity had swelled as tears in her eyes at the sight. The sickening thud as the General’s hoof sank into the supple skin of his opponent had ricocheted through Africa’s own body, and she remembered then with a new surge of determination, that healing was what her preference was- her self-appointed purpose.
Onni and Cirrus, she told herself over and over. Not for a second letting the names waste to the back of her memory- they were so important to Africa’s future.
“...Coris, who's our artisan. He can forge incredible things out of metal!” Africa was indeed surprised, if a little sceptical, but she had seen the half-made wall to the north of the Throat with her own eyes. Perhaps that was the beginning of one such creation by Coris. Again the dapple grey Pegasus nodded attentively and with interest, noting though the conclusion as her company finalised all that had been revealed.
“Thank you so much, Sohalia.” Africa was exceedingly grateful, overloaded perhaps with the wealth of information, but so thankful. She did not need to pause however, and continued earnestly, her voice rising with purity and passion. “Healing is where my heart lies.” She felt a flush of blood through her face, zealous and burning. “I know it is.” The young horse beamed, and it was all that she could do to keep from leaping with childish delight. She withheld some composure though, an attempt to seem sensible perhaps, or just not imprudent.
“Do you know where I might find either Onni, or Cirrus- or both?” The day was still so young and Africa was itching terribly to continue on with her journey.
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
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[O] actions write the melodies to the songs that we sing
