Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
The sobering flavour of cinders formed a sticky paste in the back of her already parched throat as she watched vaguely, the horse fussing about the earth by the weakly smouldering pit. Naturally though, the soft wilt of her long dark lashes was drawn towards the light beside him; like a moth to a flame. She drew a deep, ash-tinged breath and coughed slightly as her pale eyes closed to remember finally, the rummy-nosed colt who had stalked her through the long swishing grass right here; or was it a blood-soaked wolf, gluttonous and ready to double his stash. Her perception of the world and all that had been, was critically distorted, and she cowered beneath a fog of confusion; aware only of the fresh scars tanning her hide and her spirit.

A cautious rumble resonated through the little Zephyr’s chest cavity. He watched warily as the stranger by the fire-pit turned, noticing Africa perhaps, and the mellow glow illuminated the silver-grey underside of him. His heart began to flutter quickly as his bonded struggled between realities, and he dipped gently through the twirl of cold breeze to alight atop her withers- a place where he could balance well enough without causing her discomfort, and offer the frail mare reassurance through touch. A gentle, careful chirp slipped through his sharp beak as it lowered to preen a matted lock of her mane, a fond nudge to stir her; to will open her eyes.

When they opened, Africa noticed that the stallion was moving forward towards her. Oblivious she had been to the muffled thud of his approach, lost in thought, and with shy reserve she turned away slightly, her primitive manner aloof and radiating distrust. The stranger paused then as a courtesy maybe, though her lowered eyes were sponging the dying turf below, in a semi-distracted way. The Zephyr’s violet eyes roamed about him in her stead, critical and fierce as they reflected what the little light available.

The stallion made a verbal bid for her deliberately straying attention, and his gentle nicker softened the visible rigidness of her hunched over posture. For a second she spared him a glance, and though fleeting it was, the sadness cloaking her expression gave way to a look more questioning, or suspicious. Perhaps if a horn, spear or the like had graced the point of web between his startling amber eyes, Africa might have flinched from his reach and scampered away through the camouflage of darkness. There was nothing though, not even ruffling feathers to each side, and she exhaled heavily, almost relieved, as his shadow spread across her.

He was neither her family, nor her enemy...