The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on March 2, 2020 at 11:19:03 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."

Macabre felt a surge of confidence rise from her chest and flush warmly in her cheeks as she strode diligently into the forest. The petite mare's blonde mane lapped at her thin, arched neck with every step she took. She flashed Božena a bright, but short-lived smile as they cantered deeper into the territory. Macabre could hear the tall, dark mare's thundering hooves behind her, and the sound was oddly comforting. While the Codebreaker of the Peak hadn't spent that much time personally with the warrior mare, Macabre had long ago been struck by Božena's fierce loyalty to what the Peak stood for. Božena was a trusted confidant and a relentless force of the Vulcan herd. Macabre knew she couldn't do any of this without her.

The cries and clashes of war grew closer as the tree trunks and branches became less dense. It wasn't long before the trees fell away all together, opening up to a scene of bodies pinned against bodies in a grassy clearing. Most of the horses intertwined in battle Macabre did not know, or at least she couldn't make them out under the moonlight. She saw mares and foals and stallions strewn across the landscape. Her heart thumped with renewed vigor against the confines of her chest as she looked over the horrifying scene.

She issued a gurgling cry before lurching forward. She cantered off into the scene, dodging bodies where should could, and colliding with her shoulders against the ones she could not avoid. She looked and smelled for the familiar Lagoon bachelor stallions, and kept an eye peeled for Persephone. After several minutes of scurried bites and kicks, a moment of calm finds her. She stood in the middle of the fight with the sides of her barrel rising and falling. Her nostrils flared as they sucked in shallow breaths.

And then he emerged.

A shiver ran down the length of the chestnut mare's short spine. Her marbled eyes would pick him out of a lineup anywhere. Cullen snaked his way toward her with a familiar predatory stare. But this time, Macabre did not cower in fear. She stood proudly and stoically, with her head held high above her withers. Words dribbled from his lips and her copper-colored ears come to lay flat underneath a bed of mane at her poll. "Go to hell, once and for all Cullen." She spat back with the flick of her thin tail. "You will not break us. Not now, not ever."

She watched as the cream-colored stud then launched himself toward her and she followed suit. A high-pitched, shrill whinny escaped from her whiskered lips as she darted forward to clash against him. Only in the corner of her eye did she catch sight of two more offending stallions. Both looked familiar, and not like the usual Lagoon cronies she'd been used to seeing. But Macabre didn't have time to waste, and there was no slowing what had already started. She galloped toward Cullen with everything that she had in her. And when she stammered close enough to feel his hot breaths on her cheek, she peeled back her lips and snapped at every inch of pale hide she could find on his body.




"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 | 12 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




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