The Lost Islands
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Making love to a m e m o r y
Posted on September 14, 2017 at 07:04:04 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."

It wasn't unlike Macabre to feel on edge. It was practically her normal resting state even at home in the Peak. But after abandoning her sisters back on the Crossing Isle to brave the cold swim to Tinuvel, she felt more unsure of herself than ever. The petite chestnut mare was almost fully ripe --- this foal would be ready for the world any day now. While the exertion of the swim felt fine on her swollen legs and aching muscles, she worried internally if she was causing too much stress on her child by choosing to seek out Diamant so late in her pregnancy. But as the mare fearfully plunged into the dark, frigid waters, she told her herself there's no backing out now.

There was a sense of nostalgic charm that filled her when she thought about giving birth to this foal in Tinuvel, very much like she had for Shiraz. It would be a monumental moment for her, to welcome this colt or filly into the world from the same physical space she'd brought her first and now dead child into those years ago. Perhaps even with Diamant at her side.

But she couldn't even make out the hazy mass of Tinuvel before the contractions began. It sent a pang of dread through her entire form, and she kicked out as fiercely as her spindly, little legs would let her. The mare groaned into the night, heavy plumes of carbon dioxide rising from her flared nostrils with every wave of pain a new contraction would bring.

She washed up onto the shores of the Inlet just in time. Her wobbling legs carried her past the first few sand dunes before she threw herself onto the ground and not long after, birthed a tender bay filly into this world. Fear clouded her marbled eyes she cleaned her, the new mother's chest beating furiously against the confines of her chest as she over-scrutinized the budding filly for any remarkable signs of distress or illness. But she was perfect. Healthy and correct in every way. A flicker of hope and pride warmed Macabre at her very core and she pulled her child in closer, waiting for night to turn to day.




"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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