The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on September 28, 2016 at 09:28:09 PM by Macabre




"If Love himself weep, shall not lovers weep,
learning from what sad cause he pours his tears?
Love hears his ladies crying their distress,
showing forth bitter sorrow through their eyes
because villainous Death has worked its cruel
destructive art upon a gentle heart,
and laid waste all that earth can find to praise
in a gracious lady, save her chastity."

The petite chestnut mare grazed quietly among an opening in what otherwise was a densely forested slope alone in the Ridge. Her slender legs pawed aimlessly at the thick layer of snow that had blanketed the terrain this season, its depths sometimes reaching up to the small mare's knees at certain patches. The seasons here were so vastly different from those in the neighboring Paradise. It hadn't been an easy transition for her. But she was surviving, if not much else.

The wintertime on the Ridge was just as quiet as the seasons that came before it. Vodnik's small herd was nearly almost always dispersed in differed areas of the vast territory. At first those dynamics alarmed Macabre. She had taken her role as lead mare, albeit it temporary or not, seriously, and was trying her best to live up to whatever standard the draft stallion had in mind for her. If only she knew exactly what he wanted, perhaps she would be less paranoid about the responsibilities she had assumed in such a random and startling way.

Macabre's otherwise peaceful, and routinely boring day was interrupted by the stark call of another. The tone of the call was clearly feminine, but Macabre did not recognize it to be neither Rowena's or Dracaena's. It was true that the mares of Vodnik's herd rarely socialized. Macabre would be lying if she said if she didn't purposely avoid the liver chestnut mare, Dracaena. After their strange encounter at the border of Paradise, Macabre saw it best to avoid her at all costs. However, Macabre did enjoy Rowena's company. And as the two spent more time with each other, Macabre couldn't help but feel a sort of maternal, or sisterly connection to the young stocky mare. But there was another inhabitant, perhaps the newest to join the herd, but Macabre knew little about her either. She was a small bay mare, one that was clearly pregnant, of whom Macabre only saw when the herd bed down together during bad weather. Perhaps it was she who was calling out.

Curiosity piqued her interest and the slight chestnut mare moved carefully down the snowy incline in the direction of the mare's call. She took short and nimble steps, taking time to find her footing for fear of tumbling on a slick, rocky edge hidden under the snow, until she reached more level ground and yet another clearing. In the distance she spied the bay-colored mare. Only then did she sound off her own whinny in return, and trotted over at a quick two-beat gait to reach her. Macabre kept her distance, however, nickering gently as she approached and offering the mare a small smile. "Good day." She says sweetly, the highlighted strands of her blonde tail flicking gently over her haunches.





"Hear then how Love paid homeage to this lady;
I saw him weeping there in human form,
observing the stilled image of her grace;
and more than once he raised his eyes toward Heaven,
where that sweet soul already had its home,
which once, on earth, had worn enchanting flesh."

Macabre | 6 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




OOC: I'm up for a quick thread! :)


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