The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on August 1, 2016 at 09:36:23 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."

Life in the Ridge had been relatively quiet for Macabre since her rude arrival. For the most part, the draft breed stallion left her to her own devices, though she could feel that he was never far away. It was a strange feeling to get used to, being watched. Not that she assumed Vodnik hovered over her all hours of the day, but she could tell by his strong musk and the freshly trampled underbrush she came across rather frequently that she was never far from him. It made her paranoid, as if her every move was being scrutinized and silently critiqued. It was as if he had not decided if she was worthy enough to be a part of his herd just yet. Or maybe, he was very much the control freak she'd experienced with every Ridge inhabitant. She wouldn't know. She hadn't really met the others.

Macabre did know she wasn't the only mare the Ridge. She occasionally crossed paths with another red mare, one of a more impressive build but similar in color. Her coat was more striking, however. It was almost a rich maroon in color coupled with stark white markings. It made her wonder if Vodnik had a "type." The mare never went out of her way to introduce herself and Macabre hadn't worked up the courage to engage her the few times she had spied her through the foliage. Macabre was content being alone. Perhaps it was because she'd been on her own for so long. But then again, she never truly felt like she was alone in the Ridge with Vodnik.

So when she spied the red mare again on this particular day, Macabre trudged after her, perhaps against her better judgement. Macabre had avoided straying too close to the border with Paradise, for fear of bringing too much attention to herself. The last thing she needed was for Vodnik to think she planned to run away. So she hesitated as she watched the red mare scale a slope where the Ridge ended and Paradise began. But when she realized who she was headed toward -- Ailill's familiar pale frame standing out like sore thumb in the forest -- she leapt forward down the path in a hurry.

Macabre moves too quick and catches a root on the way down. She falls to her knees first before turning over to her side. But the chestnut mare scrambles back onto all fours quickly, half her body covered in soil, twigs and leaf litter and ambles quickly toward two mares standing in front of Ailill. The second mare, a stout but young thing, reeks of the Ridge. Macabre has never seen her before but safely assumes she also belongs on the other side of the border. She knows she must move them both back to the Ridge as quickly as possible before the ever vigilant Vodnik realizes his entire herd is missing.

She arrives just in time to hear the red mare speak, first in a foreign tongue and then in a calculated, venomous way to get a rise out of Ailill. It left a sour taste in Macabre's mouth. Before speaking she eyes the other mare, whom seems flightly and worried for reasons unknown to Macabre. Then she nickers in brief greeting. She smiles weakly when she sees Ailill, but quickly turns her attention away from him and back to the two mares.

"We can't be here. You all know it. Come, let's head back before it's too late." Macabre says sternly, almost surprising herself by her cool and calm demeanor. She circles the group and urges the younger one back toward the forested slope they came down upon.




"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 | 6 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




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