The cold, dank air hugged Africa tightly and her coat rippled wildly in an effort to warm her core. She watched with baited breath as a diverse array of other beings arrived on the scene, each focusing their curiosity and interest upon the two strange birds and their ‘rock’. As the seconds passed by she listened, enthralled perhaps by the nature of the building conversation, the mounting intentions and individual desires to- it seemed to Africa, stand taller than the rest. A pensive sigh fluttered her black velveteen nostrils, and she tilted her head to listen as each case was presented to the sinister ‘rock-keepers’. Wrapped in a kind of patient silence, she began to wonder if this wasn’t all just one of her mind’s fantasy creations; if she was simply just indulging herself to another adventure. It seemed, when the palest mare with hair so long it caressed the forest’s very floor began to craft and create a vessel, that it was indeed one of these dreams and a pleasured, enthusiastic quirk trickled through her bald-white complexion.

She listened with ever expanding concentration, as magic became the topic and watched with baited breath as two small animals joined the growing group- she could have not have known that their very spirits were born of magic itself. Africa was to that moment oblivious, stirred and wondering only by the notion of her wild imaginings. To her mind’s-eye they were real, exotic perhaps; many of the ‘companions’, as Sohalia had so generously introduced their concept, were most peculiar anyway. The words shared between the crowd, seemed to fall across the young Pegasus’s ears in mass, confusing her simplistic nature enough to strike bewilderment through her open gaze. She could not understand the fascination each horse seemed so determined to devote towards the rock- its captors to a lesser degree, she thought from her more or less outside perspective. Never the less, she seized the marvellous adventure with a shrug, retiring her indecision and common-sense.

She hoped inwardly, blinking with comprehensive astonishment as the rock was manoeuvred into the make-shift box by dancing lights (perhaps even translucent fairy-wings), that she would sleep long into the morning because the excitement and potential was overwhelming.

The birds began to squabble again, their voices shrill and raspy through the otherwise dense silence, and Africa wondered what the eyes who would undoubtedly be awake and watching by now, were witnessing. All at once, the louder more aggressive of the pair darted towards her hooves and snatched the leaf from beneath her treats. She jerked her head at the suddenness of the movement and peered down with dismay as the fruits of her labour lay scattered across the moist loam. A resentful sigh leaked through slightly parted lips, as she watched the creature slide her leaf beneath the box. Indeed... She mumbled, well below the groups capacity to hear. The pigeons soon enough, agreed to lead the way and whisked ahead- Africa noted the way they checked back with suspicious, glaring eyes and her curiosity grew, forming a swarm of flickering butterflies in her stomach.

All about them, the forest was strewn with litter and logs; leaves and vines- all more than capable of aiding their transport of the strange, round rock. Apparently Africa was not the only creative mind on site though, as a great number of objects were gathered and combined to form brooms, wheels, harnesses and the like. Most impressed, though dismayed that her own dream was excluding her talents, the grey fumbled forward obligingly to assist the purple, star-dusted mare at the front. Nibbling at the end of a scrawny branch, the young mare grasped it tightly between her teeth. The other end was strewn with slim pine-like needles, the perfect broom she smiled to herself, and obligingly moved before the horse and her cart to sweep the litter from her path.

She had progressed few strides, when a thought did swell through her mind. A light cough emitted as though to try to snatch otherwise preoccupied attention, and she mentioned, “Perhaps I will dig a small trench to support the box as you move it along. I can see that your...” She paused, staring cautiously at the bizarre branches growing from her forehead, “Well, if the rock toppled by accident, valuable time would be wasted...” She finished quickly without turning and began to sweep in an awkward though successful, mode of reverse. No doubt the rock’s travel would be ungainly and much slower. Still clenching the broom between her teeth, Africa began to gouge the floor with her sharp beige fore-hoof- shallow at first where the journey would begin, but narrowing into a clean funnel which would quickly edge the box’s path for safety. This way too, she thought quietly, the rock would not detour in any other direction- by accident or means of foul play.

Sweep, dig... sweep, dig


4 (april)-5-13:: [Companion: Zephyr | Roc]