"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."

A chill whips through the maze of pine trees that litters Dogun's land, its gust ruffling the unkempt strands of Macabre's blonde mane and forcing the tresses to dance about her topline. The strong, frigid gust coming off the ocean whipped through the the Inlet's forested terrain, and the wind howled as it passed through its many trails. The thin mare shudders in the breeze, and a chill runs down the length of her spine. She had never been one for cold-weathered places, despite all the time she had spent on Tinuvel with Dogun. At that time, not once did she complain of the island's freezing temperatures. It was as if Macabre associated the cold with being alone.

She hadn't planned on staying this long. The return trek to Tinuvel was meant to be a round trip - from the Crossing, to the cold island and back to her new home in the Peak at the Crossing again. But nostalgia delayed her return swim. After a sobering apology and lingering emotional conversation with the pony king, Macabre faltered, wandering the depths of her old home for some time. At one point, the little mare even dropped to the earth's crust and napped among the snowflakes, finding some sort of melancholy comfort in the trees, which she had last explored with her now deceased son, Shiraz.

It was foolish of her. For she was distracted from the onslaught of the storm that bellowed above. The relatively blue skies quickly turned dark and grey. Snow dropped from their full bellies and covered the ground with haste. When she awoke from her nap she was nearly covered in snow, now wet and shivering. The winds made her walk toward the beach even worse. Her heat beat loudly in her chest as she battled the winds, realizing that it was too treacherous to brave the swim home in this storm.

She felt guilty for being so selfish. Now she would have to find Dogun and prey upon his kindness again for shelter from the storm. As she meandered the beach, her small hooves leaving staggering prints in the deep snow, she spotted him a handful of others. Silver and Sigrun were easily recognized. The appaloosa stallion, however, was an unfamiliar face. The sense of urgency in the men's demeanor frightened Macabre. They obviously sensed more danger than she did.

The petite mare kept her distance, but whinnied to the group to announce her arrival. She bobbed her head in a friendly way, then stood at attention, with lobes pricked, for further instruction.