Look down, the ground below is crumbling
Look up, the stars are all exploding
She was not sly by nature, nor overly clever; she was rather simple. Perhaps once upon a time Africa might have rivalled the innocence of a newborn lamb, clean and pure of heart. A lifetime’s worth of trauma and anxiety had washed that ease from the forefront of her demeanour though, and it was with grim resignation that the failing strength of her character allowed Onni closer.

Her body had been cleansed carefully by the Witch Doctor of the west; the bones which Alan had crushed mercilessly to ground and trap her, had been fused back into place; Deimos’ stab-wound upon her croup, and the rash of crusty bloody scabs across her shoulder were healed and dressed now, all with clean pink skin. There was one hurt that Smoke had been unable to mend though, and along with the wing had been robbed the very essence of her life- flight.

Africa regarded Onni quietly, guardedly and almost desperately, through the lash-rimmed slit of one hazel eye. The remaining wing clenched tightly against the ribbed curve of her right side when the gentle mare’s wing slipped across filthy dappled fur for a moment, to cradle her. Thoughts quickly shifted back to the Cirrus, the younger mare who had also tried to nurse the pain from her heart. Why she did not shrink from this horse’s touch she could not tell. Although she could not place either face in the shallow pool of her most recent, raw memories, a sense of remorse swamped her mind- guilt for her own vile, alien abrasiveness.

"I long for the sands of crimson when I travel," Onni began to speak, and Africa’s ears paused from their bemused swaying to listen even if her morose gaze had settled by the dull red of the sandy substrate below. The sincerity coating the words pierced the shamble of self-indulgent misery and worry, and Africa found herself nodding ever so slightly in unison. "What's your name, friend?" The other continued after introducing herself as Onni. Not so long ago Africa was overflowing with ambition and desire to learn and grow; she had promised herself that she would seek Onni out, along with Cirrus, and request their guidance so that she might learn their wondrous art. The drawn, pitiful creature which huddled by the border of her homeland now though had lost that drive- her zest. The memories were drowned beneath demonic faces, horns and the walls of that former prison.

’Nell’... She thought, swallowing a bitter sigh as she thought of the name gifted by Lace when shame soured the taste of her unspoken name. Indignity embraced her reply, and immediately she regretted its utterance- "Africa." A limp smile pulled vaguely at her lips, as she lifted her eyes to peer at Onni; to extract even the slightest sort of reaction. "I thought I might miss my first winter here..." She continued cautiously, trying to test for any preconceived impression her herd-mate might have, as discretely as she could.