The mood had all but been suffocated by Africa’s inadvertent virus-like wistfulness- she hadn’t meant to kill the vibe, and felt silly the moment her sweet friend began to speak. “Ya know… lass…” Tesande’s tender voice grappled with the thrumming strings binding the young dapple grey’s heart, soothing them and caressing them to settle and still. “If there’s anythin’ ye want err… need talk about? Ol’ Tessy here’s good at listenin” Africa grinned and chuckled inelegantly even before her own face had turned to look at the smiling appaloosa. She half expected the wiser mare to flash pearly whites and wink comically, but there was nothing derisive or silly tainting the kindly message. Tesande’s nose bumped her grey shoulder gently, and Africa’s neck curled so that her pursed lips could pass across the mare’s lowered forehead appreciatively.

With the gemstone again concealed roughly beneath the pile of sand, the two mares took their leave. Tesande backed out first, and Africa followed closely, awkwardly- because reversing had never been the otherwise graceful mare’s specialty. “Err....” the hesitant explanation began with the whirring drone of her thinking aloud. Honesty was the key point of her placid, simple personality so not divulging the entire story right away came with some difficulty. “He is just some colt.” Africa said coolly, shrugging like a too-hip teenager caught between the accusatory shadow of her parents. Then a bashful smirk quirked the corners of her mouth- “Well, we played together for a whole afternoon...” She tucked her chin coyly and glanced down shyly towards the gentle slope of the dune at their feet.

While she was an emotional, expressive character by nature, Africa had been trapped in perpetual, childishness; caught between her innocence, and the fierce ambition which nagged at her mind. Boys, before Voodoo, had passed her notice by easily, and to little affect. What she did not mention though, was that the red-eyed colt was enemy to the values which formed the noble foundations of their Throat family. Africa, typically, only presumed that there had been some spark ignited between them; perhaps hoped that she might have caused his heart to flutter, like he had done to hers.

Africa scoffed, bothered by the burning infatuation which nipped at her thoughts; chewed at her heart. “I should think I will never see him again though,” she sighed, turning with recovered cheer to crinkle her nose resignedly at the topic. Her words held two meanings; it was an affair that undoubtedly neither could afford.