The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on October 7, 2016 at 07:40:38 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."

Life in the Ridge was becoming oddly similar to what Macabre had experienced in Paradise. The responsibilities that came with Macabre's new title of lead mare gave her purpose each day. It drew her from slumber before the sun would peek beyond the high boulders, and she would join Vodnik on patrol of the terrain. Macabre found she was good at logging minuscule details. She would register new scents and tracks of predators in the mud and compare them each day to gauge their herding patterns. She'd study the marshlands and the lakes for treacherous muddy pockets and help move the herd away from them. Occasionally the petite mare would even muster up enough courage to swim to the Crossing Isle and force herself to socialize with other horses there, keeping Vodnik's name and the Ridge on the forefront of the community's mind. Needless to say, Macabre was enjoying the change of pace.

That said, the chestnut hadn't had a real conversation with Vodnik since she first arrived here, despite their routine working relationship. Perhaps part of her was still a little nervous to open up to him. She toyed with this fact over and over in her mind, but when the time came that they were alone together, her lips always remained tightly shut.

Spring brought new life to the Ridge and Macabre was thankful for the break in the otherwise cold weather. Fresh grass sprouted at her hooves, and in some more open areas of the terrain, it was high enough to tickle her legs and underbelly. As winter was pushed further behind them, Macabre found herself seeking out Lillith more than any other member of the herd. She was the only pregnant mare here, and ever since their run-in with that friendly stranger a few months ago, Macabre found herself drawn to Lillith, always eager to help the otherwise completely independent mare, in any way she could. Part of this must have stemmed from Macabre's loss of Shiraz. She was known to hover around new families -- that was, after all how she became such close friends with Jetta in the Peak -- even if she didn't realize it. There was a void deep down there. She ached for the loss of her only child, and fretted about ever becoming a mother again.

So when Macabre caught Lillith's scent in the passing breeze, she followed it. The mare ambled down a familiar path through the trees until the trail opened up to a vast meadow. In the distance she spotted the bay mare with a little filly nearby. Macabre smiled brightly to herself before issuing a friendly call to the mother and daughter pair, and then set out at a brisk walk to greet them. Upon hearing her bugle, a family of deer lifted their heads and darted back into the trees. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry." Macabre said as she approached, watching how the filly had been so intensely interested in the deer before they fled. "I didn't mean to disturb you both."





"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





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