Diamant

The chestnut mare looked up at him. In the half-light it was difficult to make out the finer details of her facial features, but Diamant had the distinct impression that she did not really see him. She was far away, lost in the time and place that brought such grief to her. She muttered something, and the tall stallion leaned forward with pricked ears, but failed to catch her words. His amber eyes searched her, and he wondered what on earth had happened to cause her such pain. His only memory of her had been of a quiet and composed, if somewhat nervous, mare. Seeing her crumpled on the ground like that, it was as if she was a different horse. But he had since experienced his own trauma, and he understood what it was like. His heart hurt for her without knowing why.

Then the cloud that hung over her cleared. He saw recognition and awareness light up her eyes, and watched as she attempted to compose herself, to hide behind the veil of propriety and turn herself back into the acquaintance he knew. But her words were strained with half-truth, and he could see that she still teetered on the edge of self-control. One misstep would send her over again. Diamant tread a little closer, stepping lightly as though he was literally walking on eggshells, until he could clearly see the details of her face. They were close enough that he could feel her warmth. He felt the strong and surprising urge to envelop her in an embrace, to hold her and let her empty the rest of her grief. He did not know why he felt this urge, given they hardly knew each other; likely it was simply pure empathy. His mother - or the mare he had known as his mother - was gone. Perhaps he needed the closeness as much as he thought Macabre did.

The young stallion restrained himself, however, partly out of shyness. Instead he looked at her with concern, holding his head low so that she did not have to lift her chin to meet his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, uncertain whether to answer her question or address the elephant in the room. "I don't know," he said truthfully in a soft voice. He thought about telling Macabre of Inka's death and the circumstances that had caused him to leave the Lagoon, but he held his tongue, not wanting to make the conversation about him. "What are you doing here, Macabre? Why were you crying? Is everything okay?"