Its really not like that in my head anymore. I don't get so much detail, but we can still express our feelings about things, about each other. I get feelings, not words.
I think of my trust for her, and I guess, she feels that I trust her. In the same way, I feel that she knows.
Our bond is not completely broken, despite her death. The techs have said that this is impossible, that I need a little psychiatric help. But it *is* her.
I've heard people whispering behind my back, talking in concerned tones. They think I'm still not accepting her death. But I am; I'm feeling her now, and the feeling she is sending me is that she is dead, and that she still loves me.
(I love you)
I can feel it.
Its been six weeks since I took that dive, since I tried to end it all. I've had my highs and lows. Yeah, its been an intense few weeks; a strange time.
Its not over yet. Oh no, nothing is ever really over.
Oh yeah, I *can* feel it.
Although I miss the way it was, I hope this never ends. I couldn't love another mare. It'll always be this way now, until I join her.
(You're full of love)
I keep feeling that Cloud is thinking of her father, its getting stronger all the time.
I just don't understand. I don't understand.
(I care for you)
I feel her sadness, her father, her sadness. I don't understand. I'm going to go and see him. I don't know what I can do, I can't really communicate with him, he was never bonded. I'm going to go and see him anyway.
I think I've found him at last. I'm standing amongst the bracken at the edge of this beautiful, tranquil glade. Bright beams of sunlight arch down through the tall trees. A brook bubbles gently between the swathe of wild flowers. Vivid blue speckles of the spring sky show through the canopy.
Chestnut and white, there he stands, beside the stream.
His head is held low, but he is not grazing. He's fairly handsome I guess, but his age is apparent. He looks pensive.
There's no herd here, no mares, just him.
As I move out of the foliage, his ears prick slightly. He glances over at me.
What? I feel her in my mind again, but its not her. I mean, it is but its as though she were...
("A man, but why?")
Yeah. Its as though Cloud is relaying his thoughts to me.
(The bond, my love, the bond)
Can I communicate back to him? I adopt a passive pose, I think passive thoughts. I'm not a threat.
Yes, it's working. But now what do I do? I move closer.
I think of Cloud, of our love, of our life together as scouts.
("Cloud, my daughter. He was with Cloud.")
Wow, this is fantastic, but isn't he wondering, isn't he just a little surprised by this?
(My dam, love, death)
I don't understand. What _am_ I supposed to do. I approach him. He meets me half way, sniffs at me. Acknowledges me with his body language... a friendly, but cautious greeting.
(I love you, the soul, my dam, the soul, my sire)
I... no, I've no idea. Maybe I'm here to tell him that his daughter is dead. Hmm, 'my sire, sadness, the soul', yeah, maybe that's it.
I look into his eyes. I cringe for a moment, forced to remember my own grief. I think about Cloud, about her death, my sorrow.
After a moment, he straightens up, his eyes widen. A wave of sadness passes through me. Such sorrow. He almost seems to be holding back tears as he blinks so very slowly and looks down again, at the ground.
Our feelings of loss, this stallion and I, our feelings seem to merge together.
I think I understand.
Cloud's mother, his mare, she is also dead. But like Cloud, she is still bound to her lover. I think, perhaps, this has always happened; to Cloud's dam, her grand-dam, and all of those before her.
No... a curse.
And suddenly I realise how this curse works:
Grief binds them. We are holding on, her sire and I. We won't let go. I thought I'd dealt with it. I really thought that it was all solved now. Cloud and I, my un-dead mare, together for all eternity.
No. That's not the way that it's supposed to be. I have to let go, I have to carry on. And so must he.
I move toward him, put my arms around his neck and I think: "We must let them go. We may love them forever and we shall always remember that, but this is not right... We must let them go."
("Yes, we must.")
The faint scent of my love is around me, and also the scent of another. I feel her warmth nearby one last time. There almost seems to be a faint, but pure, glow; the hazy silhouette of two white mares standing at the edge of the glade.
(I love you)
And then... it is gone.
In that moment, our grief is finally spent.