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Generally speaking, Birdsong was favoured by the larger flora population as a time to rear their darling blossoms and blooms alike; given the abundant rainfall, warmer temperatures and lengthened hours of glorious sunlight. The growing season harboured all manner of new life, offering a sanctuary of sorts nurturing and tender.
At the other end of the spectrum, though not as cruel as the bitter breath of Frostfall, nor as scorching as the relentless heat of Tallsun; Orangemoon blanketed the vast emerald forests and lavish wilderness’s alike in a vivid cloak of burnt-orange and red; shrivelled auburn and lifeless grey. Autumn’s withering touch was like a plague cloud, with wicked winds whispering through dying foliage, stripping their spirit and casting skeletal bodies as litter to waste across the floor. In many respects it was a sombre epoch, when the frail looked with baited breath towards impending demise; their existence shadowed grimly by the onslaught of the winter to follow.
Amidst the austerity of twirling leaves and unhinged life however, the young dapple grey Pegasus ventured from the sanctuary of the tropical oasis- the very essence of her homeland. Her life was quiet, unlike so many around her who hustled and bustled through the daily monotony of their existence; duty a plug in their ears, liability a mask across their eyes. She was burdened with neither, her fluid imagination at liberty to soak up the splendour of the natural world around her. And the sparkle of her eye witnessed not only the death and despair of the shrivelling woods through which she adventured, but the secret unforeseen birthing of another sort.
Mould grew thickly where the leaves fell to nourish the moist forest floor, the scent of it thick and musty as Africa’s careful tread fell against the bare loam. Moss, its delicate presence so soft like velvet, colonized the pebbles and rocks which were scattered by the thoughtless step of those who found no time to notice. The young mare did though, and the tender brush of her lips passed across the subtle carpet of shadow-kissed green with unspoke admiration- not many of its ‘kind’ were able to stand so enduringly against the turning season.
Down here where the wind did not stir crumbling leaves and sunlight could not dry, Africa explored alone.
She had travelled much of the late evening southbound, beginning amongst the pungent Threshold whose crooked spindly pines grew weary in their old age; creaking and swaying as midday spewed forth a cold wind, pregnant with the first snow. The earth there was already burnt by frost- the sparse, canopy of needles offering little protection through night, and Africa had delved ever deeper, following the rich earthen aroma of unmistakable decay.
As the darkest hour settled across Helovia, her mottled form had slipped beneath the dank perpetual shade of an unfamiliar forest, moist and dense whose base remained relatively oblivious to the chain of life above. Down there it was unnervingly dark, and when the milky-moonlight found access, the pale light still offered little aid to the foreign traveller. Spores and dust collected in the subtle shafts, dancing with life and vigour and ignorant to the world outside their peaceful domain.
Quiet and ever respectful she stepped, collecting a variety of delectable morsels; exotic mushrooms, the smooth furry fingers of rabbit-foot ferns, and the brittle shelves of golden fungus which clung to the broad bases of ancient tree trunks.
“Thank you,” She would whisper graciously, even before her lips gently broke the fragment away. For a moment she would lay the prize at her feet and nurse the wound left behind with rotten leaves- as though such might spawn and nourish new growth. Tenderly she carried her collection within a large ‘gunnera’ leaf, across which she had conveniently stumbled- the size of which had astonished even her.
"Quiet! What if someone hears you?" Unsuspecting, hushed voices attracted her attention and cupped ears flicked forward with interest towards the direction from which the sound had come. "Oh, right, like its mother is going to track us down and kill us for stealing her kid and turning it into a rock." There were two, small and of a higher pitch than any horse she had ever conversed with. Her vulnerable curiosity, intertwined with the bickering nature of the conversation echoing through midnight tranquillity, compelled her forward- before though, she gathered the corners of her leaf around her edible assortment, and lifted it together skilfully between the delicate clasp of her teeth. "...that sounds exactly what an angry mother would do, you featherbrain! Now shut up and help me move this, maybe we can fix it when we get it back to the den." Through broad, fluttering nostrils she tested the stagnant air and she picked two horse’s through the otherwise unaltered, natural deep-forest odour.
Not long afterwards, Africa stepped through the huddle of two large bushes to find the dim silhouettes of two fillies, both questioning, both apparently focused on a small spill of moon-washed shale at the base of a little exposed hillock. Slipping from her cover to stand opposite the youths, the grey mare noticed the object of their attention with a startled jerk of her white face.
There was any number of fantastically exotic wildlife dwelling in the oasis, yet these bird-creatures were beyond her experience entirely. Their dark, creepy forms were fussing suspiciously around a seemingly smooth oval rock, ordinary looking she thought to herself. Africa peered between all present at that moment, a little bewildered.
“Evening...” She whispered after placing the filled-leaf on the ground to rest against the incline of her cool hoof. She remained conscious always of the choking silence around them, and her manner was a courtesy to the creatures sleeping snug in tree or hole, hidden in the group’s surroundings.
4 (april)-5-13:: [Companion: Zephyr | Roc]
"Thinking. Speaking. Acting."
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![[Image: 515b833f251f3]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/515b833f251f3)
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[DROP] Squabbling Squabs [Species Specific Companion Drop]
