When Pilar had first arrived at the Ridge, some time after she had met Kasabian, she oppressed a burning intrigue to explore the edge of great precipice that taunted her with its vast height and secrets of what spectacles might exist at its base. The rainstorm and her good sense prevented her from getting close enough to catch a glimpse of anything at the time, but today the weather was balmy—warm with a light breeze—and Pilar knew it was now or never.

She plodded along cautiously, taking care to place each of her hooves upon the ground in as steady a manner as she could muster. Despite the ideal conditions, Pilar is horribly afraid of slipping and falling. She guessed others before her had fallen to their deaths walking along this very path. Accident or not, Pilar did not want to share the same fate. There was too much life left to live, too many places not yet explored, too many faces of future friends to get to know. Imagining all that lay beyond the precipice excited the Marwari girl, her eyes shining with all the brimming possibility of what tomorrow might bring.

When at last she reached the edge, Pilar extended her slender neck as far as she could stretch it and peered over the side. Waves crashed upon the sharp rocks that jutted out below, loud and menacing, warning her of their fatal tendencies. Pulling back, Pilar sighs heavily, slightly disappointed at the lack of anything startling. As she retreated back down the path, putting her haunches to the precipice, Pilar thinks that perhaps it was better if there were no bones to see. After all, the last thing she wanted was for an upset spirit to haunt her at every turn. Pilar believed very much in ghosts, and they frightened her because there was nothing she could do for them.

She silently hoped she would not run across the one spirit she knew lurked on these islands somewhere—Highwire—the unstable Marwari her grandmother spoke of often. She flung herself off a cliff, Pilar. On purpose. And Pilar, a wide-eyed young filly at the time, had asked why Highwire did this to herself. Why would anyone commit such a terrifying act of self-harm? What could be so horrible that she would choose death over whatever the mortal world could offer? Alas her grandmother did not have anything more than a cryptic answer for her. Sometimes when one loses something they love, the only recourse they can see is an equal loss.

Pilar did not understand her grandmother’s sentiment, but she knew she was wise and trusted that one day her explanation might make sense. The concept of love too was foreign—at least the level of love her grandmother described. Pilar loved running, exploring, making friends, but when she imagined losing these things she hardly felt suicidal. Maybe that was why Highwire had come to be called unstable in the first place, though wouldn’t her grandmother just tell her that was the reason if that was the truth? She wrinkles her nose as she mulls this over, unsure of these abstract concepts and determined one day to figure them all out.

It was not long before her thoughtful walk inland led her to Kasabian, standing on his own and grazing in a grassy patch. Pilar smiled, glad for the distraction of good company and trotted over to greet the buckskin stallion with a pleasant expression.

“Hi Kasabian!”

Pilar never let anything weigh her down for long.


pilar

photo © Sally Mann