The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on June 28, 2017 at 01:57:30 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."

Macabre was restless.

It was an unusual sensation for the petite chestnut mare to experience. For most of her adult life, she so longed for a place to settle. She wanted nothing more than a safe home with friends and where she could start a family. But over the years, it became clear that kind of life was not destined for the flighty, skinny mare. Or else it would have happened by now.

Macabre had traversed miles and miles completely by herself, attaching herself to any horse that crossed her path, before she stumbled upon The Lost Islands. After the Quarry had crumbled into the ocean and there was no signs left of Midas on Atlantis, she continued to wander alone. After Dogun, after Dexter and after Shiraz. She wound up on Atlantis again, where she suffered under the blazing sun alone for months in Paradise. Her current home in the Peak, however, was never a place she expected to feel so alone. Ever since Jetta's mother convinced her to seek out this domain, she'd treasured it as her safe harbor. Macabre had friends here. She had a purpose here. She had family here.

But what the Peak was then and and what it is now were two very different things.

As long as Jetta was around, Macabre wouldn't abandon the rocky terrain and mountain top. But she'd spent more time by herself than with her friend lately. It seemed that the solidarity of this place had grown to be too much for Lillith and her foal, who seemingly left without saying goodbye. It was difficult for Macabre to process that at first. Lillith and Lluvia were the only things she had left that connected her to Vodnik. But the big stallion had left too, and now whatever reminders she had of him and the Ridge would be forever only in her memories.

Macabre didn't want to bother Jetta with her loneliness. And thus, the restlessness began to settle in. First it drove to her to Tinuvel, where she forced herself to revisit the grief of losing her only child. And now it drove her back to Atlantis.

She wasn't sure what to expect to find on the warm and jungle-like island. Out of all the terrains she had called home over the years, Atlantis had been her preferred climate. But as she rose onto the shore of the Ridge, while admiring the mountainous peaks of the Ridge and the boulders that jutted forth from the beach, she couldn't help but become wrapped in nostalgia.

Despite the uneasiness she felt from Vodnik and Ailill, Macabre would be lying if she said she never cared for the heavy-set stallion. Their lives in the Ridge were only beginning to intertwine when everything reset, and she never saw another soul from this place again. That is, until now.

Macabre was grazing quietly on small patch of tall grass not far from the woodline when she heard the scuffle of hooves on hard rock. The mare's dark marbeled eyes instinctively looked for Vodnik's familiar frame in the distance. What she didn't expect to see was his daughter. The chestnut mare stared at her hard for several seconds, frozen in place, as if the mare standing before her was a ghost. The timing, the placing, couldn't have been more suspicious. It must be the Reaper playing tricks on her again. "Are you real?" The words tumbled from her lips without her even realizing.

Warm tears began to well in the bottom of her eye lids as she admired Rowena as a grown mare. If this was a vision, or just her imagination, she didn't mind. It was so nice to see her friendly face again.




"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 | 12 | Mare | Mustang X Morgan | 14.2 HH | flaxen chestnut | © Vinyl




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