The battle was over and he had clearly lost. Body and pride bruised and broken he dared not flee from his own shores. No, the littler horse continued to stand his ground. He even held his head high, possibly even higher than he had. Just because he had lost, this was still his home. However, the tides had changed between him and Vodnik. He hated the man. Would have happily seen the stallion’s head smashed into the walls of the cliff inland. But he had, at the very least, earned his right to come into paradise. His ears flattened against his skull his tail whipped against his flesh.

Fine. Follow me. Ailill snorted harshly. He would stick to the draft’s side like an incredibly annoying burr. He would not step off the path. He would not look at the others who lived in paradise. He would collect Macabre and they would leave. She would leave. He would have to watch her be ordered to leave Paradise.

Ailill’s heart broke more over the loss of Macabre, his friend, than he did of the battle that left him bruised and bleeding. He would have given anything to save her from this fate, to continue to give her the chance to choose her life. The youth blinked back tears with every step he took. It took power he was surprised he had to keep his head high.

At last he found Macabre on the beach. Ears still flattened, one of them bleeding profusely, he looked at her with a face that was guarded. His eyes shined in the starlight, but the darkness hid his tears. He stepped up to her and reached out his bleeding nose. Changing breathes with her he was fearful this would be the last time.

He won. The boy choked, ashamed. He had failed her in the moment she needed him.