a new world hangs outside the window
beautiful and strange
it must be I've fallen awake
I must be

All of a sudden, she was gone.

Macabre made it a point to slip away in the middle of the night. This of course, came after a long explanation and following lecture earlier around midday. Wasp listened with interest at first, because her mother was about to leave the Peak for what seemed like a good while, but her interest waned as Macabre's words turned from the news of what was about to happen to the expectations her mother had for her while she lived under the care of the Peak's only other inhabitant: Božena. Wasp rolled her eyes as Macabre droned on, that is, until her mother bit her sharply on the shoulder before draping her small neck over the small of her back in a tight embrace. Poor Macabre could barely manage to do so anymore. Like her father, Wasp had grown too tall.

The realization of what life was about to be like didn't hit Wasp until it was too late. She woke alone among the trees and the boulders in a low-lying part of the mountain. Her mother was gone, her scent already felt stale. The dark mare lay there alone, listening to the howls of far off coyotes and staring up at the violet blanket of stars that shone overhead. She took a deep breath and tried to will herself back to sleep, but it was no use. Her heart was pounding in her chest and all she could think about was the day that painted stallion came here and the scuffle they had.

Would it have been different if Wasp could have fought too? If instead of being naive and untrained, had she used her weight and her legs to fight him off alongside Božena, could they have beaten him a second time? Or was this the third? Whoever this Cullen was, Wasp predetermined in her mind that he would pay for this. Macabre, though anxious and long-winded sometimes, was a proper mother. Not only for Wasp, but for Jetta and Rowena and even Cherish, during their short time together in the Falls. She sought to help anyone in need, and went to great lengths to do sometimes. Despite her agitation with her mother sometimes, this was not lost on Wasp. She worried for her mother now. But she was also struck by Macabre's unwavering bravery at such a time.

Warm, salty tears began to roll slowly from Wasp's amber eyes now. She cried solemnly until there were no more tears left to cry, and bured her profound head into the grass.

W A S P