"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 child looks on to the newcomer with a general inquisitive stare. He takes two jagged steps forward, his mind willing his body to cooperate, but, per usual, his limbs fail him. Instead of walking toward K1A1, Shiraz merely side steps, his small hooves kicking up loose sand as he struggles to hold his balance and remain upright. Eventually gravity wins, and the colt topples over. One would not be alarmed if the sooty-colored colt was a day or two old. But Shiraz was going on three months. His body was growing, but his muscles and overall health, were not. The boy was smart, however. He knew something was wrong. A panic was forever etched into the softness of his features. Worry clouded his dark marbled eyes. The muscles in his long stilts twitched as he lay in disarray on the ground, helpless, until his mother comes to his side.

"Excuse me." Macabre says, striding over to her son. She parts her jaws and grabs at the crest of his neck, pulling him to his feet while he scrambles from underneath her grasp. For some time, his fumbles were heartbreaking. Macabre would rush to his side, doing whatever she could to calm the child, but the emotion had since faded. Together the two merely operated, getting through one day in order to see another. Shiraz was distressed. He understand innately that he relied on others, on his mother, to perform even the simplest every day motions. The cycle could not continue forever.

Eventually the colt was on all fours again. He abandons his curiosity, feeling defeated after his tumble, and ambles awkwardly over to grouping of brush not far away. Macabre's attention returns to that of the blue mare. She attempts to smile weakly, to make light of the situation, but can tell K1A1 is not the type for polite casualties. "I don't know how much longer I can take it."She speaks bluntly, her eyes locking onto the other mare's. When K1A1 speaks she merely nods, a strange, unspoken bond forming between them. Immediately it weighs heavily upon Macabre's heart, and she feels guilty for having so easily accepted whatever hushed proposal this stranger had offered her. But the guilt quickly fades and relief comes in its wake. The petite mare breathes in deeply, the sides of her chestnut barrel expanding fully before she exhales, a calm settling over her.