Date: Fri, 13 Dec 2019 10:20:45 +0200
From: Zaggy Norse <zaggynorse@gmail.com>
Subject: To Touch the Sky (Revised)

Keywords: gay, centaur, human, anthropomorphic animals, magic

You may wish to read this story first, as it gives some insight into the
world and a couple of the characters:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/benediction

If you enjoyed the story, I'd love to hear from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The villagers raised their heads at the slow hoofsteps, and watched him
pass with wide eyes and whispered comments. Tasks were momentarily
forgotten; the chatter of the washerwomen grew still, and woodcutters
leaned on their axes, panting and wiping sweat from their eyes to better
see this unusual sight. Curious children ran closer, but not too
close. Ataxion could hear them egging one another on, taunting each other
to get closer, to touch him or even tug on his tail.

He stopped and turned, his human aspect able to face them well before the
equine remainder had clopped around. The pack of children froze when the
centaur met their eyes, giggling and ogling his massive form. If he had
been a horse, he'd have been the biggest horse any of them had likely
seen. The murmurs of the adults grew still, and only birds and childish
whispers could still be heard. It was not that there was a tension in the
air, exactly; none here feared him in any way. There was simply a powerful
sense of combined curiosity. Everyone was waiting to see what he would
do. A little show of goodwill couldn't hurt.

Ataxion stared at the young ones, and they stared back. When one equine leg
rose and took a deliberate step towards them, the youngest members fled --
squealing -- into the safety of their mother's skirts. They had likely been
fed a set of bedtime tales that Ataxion was all too familiar with: ones
where his kind swept out of the forests or down from the high mountain
passes to clutch at wayward children and gallop them away to be slaves in
their towers...or simply devoured them whole, bones breaking and flesh
rending between sharpened teeth. The centaur had never understood what use
he was supposed to have for a child-slave, and he had *certainly* never
felt a desire to eat another person, but he supposed that "The Recalcitrant
Child and the Centaur That Entirely Failed to Kidnap or Consume Him" was
less interesting storytelling.

Besides, with his teeth, it would take him weeks to finish a single
three-year-old.

The elder children stood firmer, but with each additional step he took, one
or another lost their nerve and fled. So it was that when Ataxion finally
stopped right before the pack, only one member of it remained: a tiny otter
pup, as greasy as a harvest pig, with soot-black hair and clenched
paws. His eyes could not have been wider, and he struggled to meet the
centaur's gaze, neck craned backwards so far that he seemed about to topple
over. He squinted fiercely, then stuck out a paw, palm up. Ataxion was
impressed by the pup's boldness. He allowed his front legs to buckle,
lowering him closer to the ground and to the pup.

"Hello, small one," he said, trying not to sound too intimidating, folding
his hands casually across his belly. He must have been thirty times the
pup's size; his hoof alone was as big as the otter's head.

The pup gave him a stern look, as if admonishing him for such trivial
chatter when they had matters of import to discuss, and stuck his paw out
yet further. "Give hair," he squeaked. Ataxion chuckled and rose back to
his full height. He turned his body around, swishing his tail in front of
the child's face and swivelling his head around to watch him.

"So bold, for such a young pup. Behold: I am conquered! Take your prize
then, brave champion." The pup giggled and reached out a paw to grip the
centaur's tail. "Only one, now," Ataxion cautioned him. The pup nodded and
winkled loose a single hair from the long, equine tail. With a mighty pull
-- for his size -- he jerked on it, and with a soft grunt from Ataxion, it
came loose. The pup held it reverently, hands clasped tight about it as if
it might be taken from him at any moment, and stared at it with wonder. It
did not look any different from regular horsehair, but that was the
myth. Bind a centaur's tail hair into your clothes, or work it into the
metal when crafting a weapon, or simply carry it about within a locket on
your person, and it would grant you a boon. What the boon was, was somehow
never clear. Wisdom, perhaps? Or one's true love. Was it fecund loins? Ah,
but it was luck, said others.

Ataxion did not begrudge them their dreams: how could he, when his own were
equally improbable? He offered his tail hairs to all who sought them; they
were few enough that he was never short. Life was harsh enough for people,
he felt, without him adding to it for no reason. If they gained a measure
of hope or joy from something as simple as a hair, he did not feel it was
his place to take it from them.

After all, he needed their help...and a happy villager was quite often a
talkative one.

He put his hand to his forehead and gave the otter pup a small bow before
resuming his course down the road, leaving the scattered children to emerge
and gather around the brave pup, chattering in awe and delight at his
reward. The adults gazed at the centaur still, but word must have run ahead
of him already, for most now simply peered in interest at the uncommon
sight and then returned to their tasks. Ataxion walked on calmly, nodding
cheerfully at the odd person who caught his eye and -- if their look
lingered -- approaching them to ask his few questions. The same ones, every
time.

"Have you seen a man? A human male, with blonde hair? Perhaps in the
company of a larger group? He may not have seemed to be with them
willingly..."

A fat mare with no teeth halted her butter churning and shook her head
sadly, and a baker hawking wares by the roadside squinted into the sun and
said he thought not. Two farmers haggling over a cow thought they might
have seen a human weeks before, but she'd had blonde hair. And none of the
old goats sunning themselves on a bench had seen anything of the like --
"although t'be sure, ol' Hestok been to the human lands once, an' seen them
all in t'pink". Ataxion thanked them gravely for their words, worthless
though they were.

A merchant stared at him for a long time, chewing on his lip, before asking
what colour eyes the human had. Ataxion opened his mouth to reply to the
unexpected question -- and then felt panic when he could not immediately
recall. "Green!" he blurted after a moment. The merchant shook his head,
and Ataxion turned away, heart thumping. Why had he struggled to remember
that? Had it been so long that he was forgetting how he even *looked*? He
shut his eyes, calling the man's face to mind, forcing detail into every
pore.

*I will* not *forget you.*

The sun was falling by the time he reached the temples. It had been a long
day of travel, and his equine body was coated in dust and streaked with
sweat. All he wished for now was a place to rest and wash. While a meal
would not go amiss either, he would pass on that if he needed to. He walked
across the village square, hooves clopping against the well-worn cobbles as
he passed the local temples, clustered together in their corner like
suspicious hens. Here were some gods he knew: Kleon, she of mothers and
infants, and Priophant, arrogant god of bellic victory. The ones he did not
recognise, however, outnumbered them handily. A great stag, proud atop a
jutting rock; a god of the hunt, perhaps? And this one, with many veils
concealing his or her face -- surely, a god of times to come. Hidden
futures. He paused before it thoughtfully, and an acolyte casting fragrant
liquid about the narthex glanced over casually, then jerked up straight,
spraying the wall with a healthy -- and doubtless expensive -- dose of
rosewater. His eyes were wide; Ataxion was clearly the first centaur he had
seen. With a smile, the centaur stepped closer and nodded in greeting to
the young bull.

"Good afternoon, young master." This was neither his land, nor his gods; he
decided formality was the surest path. "Is this a temple to a god of the
unknown? Of shrouded futures?"

The bull's mouth had dropped open a little together with his wide-eyed
stare, but he recalled his manners quickly. As his eyes danced about,
taking in the unusual creature before him, his mouth spoke the rote words,
albeit haltingly. "Good...good afternoon, Seeker. This, uh, this is the
temple of Gentia, guardian of entwined fates." *Entwined fates. How
appropriate.* "D--do you seek an audience?"

"I do." Ataxion regarded the entrance, designed for those who went about on
only two legs. "However..." He put a hand to the top of his head and moved
it forward, to touch the wall a good few inches above the top of the
doorway. The acolyte gawped at him, and then at their lowered entrance, and
the centaur prepared himself to be asked to make an attempt to enter by
kneeling. It would not be the least awkward thing he had been asked to do
to accommodate his bulk. But it seemed this bull had some brains: he
hurried out of the narthex to peer around the side of the building, and
then came back.

"Please, Seeker. You may enter through the side gate." He pointed to the
rear of the building, where a large, wrought-iron gate stood ajar. A
gardener was moving about, carrying out cuttings from the garden within and
dumping them onto a pile, ready for burning. With the acolyte leading him,
Ataxion followed, and they entered the gardens that stood behind the
temple. The acolyte wrung his hands and bobbed his head. "Please, Seeker, I
shall summon the, um, the Listener. Take a seat..." He looked dumbly at the
short stone bench, entirely useless for a centaur. "I--I mean, you may wait
here?" Despite phrasing it as a question, the young bull rushed off before
Ataxion could reply. The centaur rolled his eyes and smiled to himself,
looking about the small and well-kept garden as he waited. He sniffed at
some spring blossoms on a tree, letting their scent relax his aching
muscles, and took a moment to settle his thoughts and ruminate on them. How
far he'd come today; the reliability of the croftsman who may have seen a
human travelling with a band of artisans; whether he would find news here
that might lead him at last to Nero.

He avoided the deep and troubled ones with practised effort.

Lost in reverie, the unexpected contact of a paw with his sun-warmed flank
caught him by surprise: he started, and his rear hoof kicked out,
shattering a pot and spraying loam and yellow flowers across the
ground. Ataxion whirled about to find a middle-aged panda in the voluminous
robes of a Listener standing close by, hands raised, eyes wide. Had he
stood more to the rear of the centaur, he might already be meeting his
god. "Oh!" the panda said. "Please forgive me, Seeker. I did not mean to
alarm."

The centaur was already raising his own hands and shaking his head,
silently cursing his instincts. "Absolutely not, goodman. I should be
asking your forgiveness." He looked at the remains of the flowerpot. "I
hope the plants were not too valuable. I have coin, should you require..."

The panda gave a *psh* of dismissal, tucking his hands into his filigreed
cummerbund and looking up at the tall equid. "Merely daisies," he
explained. "I enjoy the scent." He was comfortably round, and long whiskers
drooped from the sides of his mouth. "I trust Gentia will not withdraw from
me for the loss of one flowerpot. Besides -- it teaches a valuable lesson."

"How so?"

The corners of the panda's mouth rose. "Do not surprise a centaur." Ataxion
chuckled, and the panda laughed back. "So, with what can Gentia assist you,
Seeker?" he asked, settling down onto the stone bench. The centaur took a
few careful steps back so that the panda would not have to crane his neck
to meet the taller male's gaze.

"I am a traveller, passing through these lands," he explained. "The gods
here are strange to me, but your acolyte told me that Gentia is a goddess
of entwined fates?" The panda nodded. "Well, I am...seeking after
someone. Someone very dear to me. He was taken from me, and I have been
tracking him ever since. I..." The centaur fell silent, and a small frown
formed on his face. How much to share with strangers was always a
choice. But a Seeker would need to know more than most. "I do not know
where they have taken him," he admitted. "I do not know if I am even
following in their path. I do not..." His mouth sat open when the words
would not come. He had thought them before -- more and more often, lately,
in truth -- but to say them out loud would be to risk making them real. "I
do not know if I will find him," he said at last, barely louder than the
breeze.

"And yet you try." The panda's voice was quieter still, and his eyes were
sharp as he looked at Ataxion. The centaur nodded back.

"I must." A thickness in his throat made it hard to speak normally, and he
cleared it with a cough. "He -- we are two halves of one. I could as well
separate into man and horse as separate him from my soul." He wrapped a
hand around a nearby branch, tightening his grip until his fingers turned
white. "Our fates are entwined as surely as grapes and the vine. So, I ask
you, Listener: tell me what your goddess says to you of our fate. Of the
fate of Nero and Ataxion."

The Listener nodded and looked down at the ground, seemingly deep in
thought. The centaur waited. After some time, the panda raised his head
with a sorrowful expression, and Ataxion grimaced and looked away. He knew
that expression, and he knew what he would hear next.

"I am sorry, Seeker..." the panda began.

"--but the goddess will not speak of what you wish to know, for good or
ill," finished the centaur for him. The words differed as the regions came
and went, but the gist remained the same. He realised his hands were both
clenched, and abruptly he yelled, kicking out with a hoof, even harder than
before. It thudded into a tree-trunk, leaving an impression of his
shoe. But the rage fled him as quickly as it had come, and he sagged, and
sighed, and held a hand to his brow.

"I must ask your forgiveness a second time," he said wearily. "My travels
have exhausted me, and my mood is frayed."

"No forgiveness need be offered, centaur," the panda said. His voice was
carefully neutral; he had sat quite still as the centaur vented his
frustrations. "I wish only I had answers for you."

Ataxion nodded, looking off into the reddening sun. "Answers are always
spare when I deal with the gods, it seems. Others know -- with ease! -- of
harvest storms, and lost items, and whether they should marry...and yet I
receive stony stares and empty words from their Listeners." He sighed
again. "It appears the gods have resolved amongst themselves to ignore me."

"I do not think you need consider yourself that unfortunate." The panda's
expression remained neutral, but his eyes were intense. "Perhaps you are
simply...unlucky?"  He gave a small shrug. "So far."

"Unlucky." The equid considered. "Then I am tragically -- heroically, even
-- so afflicted. By some accounts, an entire bushel of luck hangs from my
rear." He looked back as he swished his tail. "Perhaps it does not work for
centaurs themselves."

The Listener chuckled and pushed himself to his feet. "Or it is reserving
itself for a single glorious moment. Who can say?"

"The gods, presumably."

The panda bowed low and spread his hands. "Wise words, well said. I am
sorry, seeker, that I could not give you answers this day." Ataxion sighed
and nodded, eyes closed. He had not truly expected anything more. There was
merely a little spark of hope every time he entered a new temple to speak
to the new intermediary for a new god: *maybe this time. Perhaps this one
is the real one.* When would he learn that hope was just the noose the
slavers had left him in place of Nero? He would end up hanging himself with
it.

He waved a weary hand at the panda. "It is not your fault, Listener. Thank
you for your time, and thanks to your goddess." *For her thrice-damned
silence. "*There is one more thing you can tell me, and I hope that Gentia
need not be sought to answer this time: where might I find an inn?"

The panda gave him directions, and watched the centaur walk away with heavy
hoofsteps. When the large male had disappeared around the corner, the panda
sniffed and got down on one knee, collecting the pieces of the shattered
pot and scraping the scattered dirt into the flowerbeds. "I do wonder," he
said after a while, to nobody in particular, "what games you play at times
like this. It seems passing cruel to make me lie to that poor creature." He
paused with a pawful of broken pottery, head cocked as if listening to a
distant voice, and then turned to look at the gate the centaur had left by
with widened eyes. "Well," he said thoughtfully. "You could at least have
let me tell him *that*."


----------

The panda had pointed him to an inn some distance away, across an ancient
stone bridge that linked the town to the farmland beyond. The river burbled
happily as Ataxion crossed the bridge, joining the carts heading back home
after a day at the market. Children screamed and ran about, oxen grunted,
and farmers yelled at one another. He was paid no mind by anyone; the
centaur was already old news, it seemed. At least his tail hairs would be
spared further depredation.

He turned from the road after crossing the river and walked into the river,
letting the water cool his aching feet. He found the deepest part and
reached down to scoop up water and splash it over his body and face,
cleansing it of the sweat and grime as best he could. With an analogue of
cleanliness achieved, he plodded back up the riverbank and headed to the
rear of the inn that stood nearby to see what could be done about his
hunger and his tiredness.

His height meant that he could never hope to enter the inn itself, but he
had long since established what to do when a roof would not accommodate
him. He called out to a young fox working amidst the stabled horses, who
dropped his rake and came over with an astounded look on his sharp
face. After a brief discussion of what the centaur sought, the fox vanished
inside and returned with the innkeeper, a portly bear who nodded
respectfully at the centaur as he wiped his greasy hands clean on his
clothes.

"Good evening to you, sir," he said formally. "I am very sorry, sir, but we
have no accommodation that is suited for your size."

Ataxion nodded. "No matter, goodman. I am well used to such troubles. I
seek only two things: a little information, and leave to use one of your
stalls for the night."

"Oh, certainly. Jacome will make up a fresh stall for you." The fox hurried
off as his name was invoked. "As for the information, ask what you
will. Although I fear there's not much that I can say that's happened
around here lately. It's a quiet area." His tone indicated he liked it that
way.

The centaur took a breath and repeated the words for what felt like the
hundredth time that day. "Have you seen a human? A male, slightly taller
than you, with pale hair? He may have been in the company of a larger
group, and he may not have seemed to be with them of his own volition."

The bear shook his head. "I am afraid not. Humans rarely travel through
here, and unless they sleep under my roof, I would have little opportunity
to notice them." He frowned. "Why do you say he would not be with them of
his own volition? What is his circumstance?"

Ataxion rarely bothered to spell things out; it did not jog people's
memories any better, and took too much time. But he had already stopped for
the night. "He would be in the company of slavers, goodman. Being taken
against his will to parts unknown..." He trailed off as he beheld the
bear's shocked expression.

"Slavers!" The bear was scandalised. "No, sir, no, nothing of that sort!
There's only farmers and croftsmen and such around here." He looked around
with fearful eyes, as if the mere mention of slavers would have placed
ruffians in every bush. "Are you hunting slavers, sir? Oh -- are *we* in
danger?"

Ataxion shook his head and calmed the bear with a pat on the shoulder. "No,
no, goodman. Do not concern yourself. If you have not heard of slavers,
then I am certain there are none." *Though they would certainly not walk up
and announce themselves as such.* *"*But if I might ask: would you inquire
in the tavern whether any others have heard of a human such as I described?
Any news -- even rumour -- would be most appreciated." He considered. "And
perhaps do not mention slavers. I do not want to ruin a pleasant evening's
mood for your guests." *Or fend off a flock of terrified villagers*.

The bear nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes, certainly. Dark days. Evil
days. Slavers...well!" He sighed and rubbed his hands clean on his clothes
again. "I wish you good fortune on your search, sir centaur. For the
moment, however -- we have some roast over the fire." He looked up at the
centaur. "I could have a platter prepared and brought out to you? As
recompense for the draughty state of my stable. I am afraid your night's
rest may be none too pleasant."

Ataxion laughed. "I have slept in far worse, goodman. Your stable looks
most comfortable, and the roast would be deeply welcomed. With some ale, if
you have." The bear did, and promised to send some with the food. He wished
Ataxion good fortune once more, and went back inside.

The fox -- who had been standing by as they spoke -- approached hesitantly
once his master had left. "Sir," he squeaked, "if it please you, I have
prepared the stall furthest from the door for you." Like the acolyte
earlier, his eyes were wide, but he also had one paw lowered, covering the
front of his breeches in a manner he seemed to think was casual. "It is
nearest the fire in the hall, and warmer than the rest...oh." Ataxion had
taken a few steps forward to see the stall the fox was indicating, and when
he looked back down at the young male, it was to see him staring
unabashedly at the centaur's crotch with greedy eyes. When the fox realised
he'd been caught, his half-open mouth clapped shut and he hurried away,
finding something on the other side of the building to busy himself
with. Ataxion stared after him.

The centaur would not normally indulge such obvious interest in his body,
but of late, his loneliness had been harder to ignore. Part of that was the
growing fear that his long quest would prove to be for naught -- but the
rest was the simple fact that his body's needs had not flagged as his
worries grew. And it had been so *very* long since anyone had looked at him
like this fox just had.

The centaur stepped towards the fox again, watching the young male attempt
to look disinterested in him, even as the massive centaur towered over
him. "Thank you for the stall, young master," he said. He was silent for a
moment longer, just watching the fox, who began to squirm a little under
the close gaze. "And if you have any questions...you may ask them."
*Unburden your mind, fox* -- *and later, doubtless your breeches too.*

The fox must have been close to bursting with curiosity, for he almost fell
over his own words in his eagerness to question the centaur. "I am sorry,
sir, it's just...I have never met a centaur, sir." He gaped up at
Ataxion. "I think you are a most marvellous people, sir. How does it feel,
sir? I mean -- do you feel like a man, or a horse? And, how do you sleep,
sir? And -- and do you, um, have you..." He was looking between the
centaur's rear legs again. "Are you crafted as stallions are, sir?" he
managed to ask, blushing delightfully. *The wonderful innocence of the
young and curious.*

Centaurs did resemble men in part, but few men existed that would have been
a match for them. They were as strong as blacksmiths and as broad as
knights. Their human halves were typically considered attractive -- at
least by those who enjoyed humans to begin with -- while the equine portion
put one in mind of a workhorse: heavyset, with great stamina and the corded
muscles of a draft stallion. Ataxion did not break the pattern. His human
skin was coppery, an intriguing contrast to the pale grey of his
hindquarters. Pitch-black hair, tousled and thick, hung down in long locks
over his shoulders and neck; the hair closest to his face had been braided,
and he would regularly reach a hand up to move an errant braid away from
his eyes -- as he did now, to better keep both eyes upon the fox and his
rapidly growing erection.

Ataxion stretched his arms upwards, letting the fox enjoy the sight of his
muscles flexing and the thick, dark hair under them. The same black hair
decorated his powerful chest, accentuating his pectorals and narrowing as
it descended his flat belly, ending in a band that merged into the grey of
his equine half where a human's crotch would be. His own crotch was of
course far to the rear, and he turned his body now to let the fox gaze at
his sheath. The fox did not even pretend to be looking anywhere else, and
as he stared hungrily, the centaur spoke.

"I feel like a centaur, young master. I have never been a man, nor a horse,
so I could not say whether I feel as they do. Perhaps men and horses feel
partly like centaurs? Or perhaps my kind are the only ones who feel
entirely whole. Only the gods could say for certain, and I do not know of
one that would answer such a trivial seeking." He allowed his penis to
drop, inching it out with teasing slowness, and the fox gulped and
swallowed. "I sleep upon the ground, as do you, but I rest myself upright,
with legs folded below me. Trees and stones and gathered hay are my
pillows. I am not much used to comfort, as you smaller creatures know
it. Comfort to me is..."

*Comfort is warm hands gripping my sides as we gallop together. Comfort is
a weight on my back and legs at my sides. Comfort is his head on my belly
when we sleep. Comfort is lost, and I cannot find him.*

Ataxion's desire to tease the fox soured. "Comfort is receiving the meal I
requested," he said sharply. He pulled his penis back up into its sheath
and turning away abruptly; behind him, he heard a confused whine.

"Sorry, sir..." the fox began to say, but Ataxion cut him off.

"*And* being left alone." As he walked away, back towards the riverbank,
there was silence behind him. Then, after a few moments, he heard
footsteps, and the door of the inn opened and shut. The equid gave a deep
sigh, and let his head hang down.

"That was a little cruel. For the rest of his life, that fox will think
that centaurs are confusing creatures who tease and lead you on and then
pull back at the last moment. And he will likely never meet another to
dispel that idea."

There was a smirk in the voice that Ataxion was not at all in the mood
for. He whirled about, looking for the speaker. Leaning casually against
the outer wall of the stable was a horse, dressed in a green tunic and
brown breeches. A bow was slung over his shoulder, and he looked at Ataxion
with eyes like two dots of flame. When he saw the centaur's stormy
expression, he raised one hand in greeting and gave a wry
smile. "Apologies, my friend. I did not mean to taunt you."

"Then perhaps you should have better considered your words before
speaking!" the centaur snapped. It did not help that the horse's words had
mirrored Ataxion's feelings to an uncomfortable degree.

"I considered them well, friend," the horse replied calmly. He pushed
himself upright and sauntered over, one hand gripping the arc of his
bow. He was broad and strong: a hunter, by the look of him. "And I suspect
you spoke in haste." He unhooked the bow, resting it on the ground and
leaning slightly into it. "I suggest that when that poor fox returns with
your meal, you apologise to him."

Ataxion bristled. "I am no pup to be ordered about!"

The horse's golden eyes fixed on his own. "No, indeed. You are a full-grown
centaur -- a most noble and respected race, of ancient lineage -- who toyed
with someone in an unseemly manner. I do not know what ails you, friend,
but that fox is not to blame."

Ataxion glared back at the yellow-eyed horse, feeling his anger rising up
and preparing to unleash it on the stranger...and then let it flow out of
him as a great tiredness descended. He sighed, and let his balled hands
fall to his sides. "You have the right of it," he told the horse
dejectedly. "My thanks, and my apologies." He was apologising to so many
people today.

The stallion said no more, but began walking about, collecting tinder and
leaving Ataxion to his thoughts. The centaur was grateful for that; he did
not like the feelings that had been roused in him, and did not feel
inclined to share them. Despair fought with anger to push need aside, and
he battled them all in silence to regain control of his composure.

When the fox cautiously returned with a platter of carved meat and a
tankard of something alcoholic -- plus one for the horse -- Ataxion
received the meal graciously before taking the fox aside. The two of them
spoke for a little while, and when the fox returned inside, his cheeks were
flushed and he had a spring to his step. The horse -- now seated before a
roaring fire -- observed the interaction, but said nothing until the fox
had returned indoors, whereupon he tossed the twig his fingers had been
playing with onto the fire and slapped his hands against his knees.

"A wrong righted is a rare thing in this world," he said simply.

"And someone bold enough to challenge a centaur is rarer yet," Ataxion
replied, trying not to sound exhausted. He was not sure he felt up to
spending time with another person just yet...but perhaps it was exactly
what he needed. They regarded one another through the flickering flames
until Ataxion inclined his head. "I thank you for it. I have been overlong
on the road; lack of good company has roughened my manners."

"Then be seated, and let food and drink soothe them." The horse smiled and
gestured to a spot opposite him.

Ataxion returned to his seat before the fire, carefully lowering his body
and folding his legs under him. The fire quickly baked the evening's chill
from his bones, and the centaur sighed in satisfaction as the heat spread
through his body. He glanced over at the horse, then picked up his platter
of food and offered it to him; the horse quietly refused. Ataxion took a
haunch and began to eat, drinking occasionally of the middling ale in the
tankard. "So, horse-friend," he said in between mouthfuls, "by what name
should I call you?"

The stallion lay back against a rock, propped up on an elbow and poking at
the fire with a long stick. "I am Isaac," he said. "And you,
half-horse-friend, are Ataxion."

Ataxion raised his eyebrows in surprise; he had not told his name to anyone
in the town. His look made the horse chuckle. "I travel far, friend," he
explained, "and centaurs are not so common. I heard mention of one named
Ataxion in another village. He helped a croftsman move a great stone that
lay in a field in exchange for any news of a pale-haired human." With a
soft crunch, a log collapsed, sending a shower of sparks into the darkening
sky. The horse paused a moment longer, inviting a response, but when
Ataxion looked away and kept eating in silence, he continued. "But there
was none, and he stayed just the one night -- in a field, like an ordinary
stallion -- before moving on."

"I recall that village," said the centaur at length. "I was there some
weeks back." He regarded the stallion. "Have you been following me then,
Isaac Golden-Eyes?"

The stallion gave a roaring laugh. "Golden-Eyes! Oh, I do like that, and I
have some friends that I think will enjoy it too." He smiled into the fire
for a moment. "Our paths merely seemed to have crossed once more. A lucky
coincidence."

"Lucky?" The centaur turned his head and spat a piece of gristle out into
the night. "Luck has not been mine of late."

"Well, so it goes with the fate not beholden to the gods, does it not?" The
horse shrugged. "Who can say when it will decide to change in your favour?"

"I eagerly await my turn," the centaur grumbled, taking another swig of
ale. The taste was extremely average, but it was stronger than he had
expected. The ache in his breast eased a little as his head began to
buzz. "Are you awaiting them here?" When the stallion looked confused, he
added, "Your friends. The ones who would enjoy Golden-Eyes."

The stallion nodded. "I am," he said, and then looked over his shoulder,
into the dark, before turning back with a small smile. "Well...I *was.*" He
stared into the fire, and his voice took on an amused tone. "Tell me,
Ataxion: are you as skittish as your equine brethren?" The stallion's
yellow eyes flicked up to meet his companion's.

The centaur stared back in mild confusion, but before he could frame an
answer, two golden orbs winked to light in the darkness behind the
stallion. For a moment, Ataxion thought the firelight was just reflecting
off the eyes of a woodland creature...before realising that the light was
emanating from the orbs themselves. Eyes; as yellow as the stallion's, but
larger. The centaur's instincts sent a cold thrill rushing through him as a
piece of the darkness detached from the background and crept towards them,
resolving into an enormous, black-furred wolf: as large as Ataxion himself
has been in his early years. It padding silently towards them, like a beast
made more of shadow than flesh, its terrible eyes watching the centaur all
the way. Isaac did not turn to look at it, but merely raised an arm when it
got closer; the creature slid his head under it, and the stallion's hand
scratched keenly at his ears.

The rumble of satisfaction the wolf made would have passed for distant
thunder.

Ataxion looked at the pair with awe and trepidation. "This...is *your*
creature? I would never have believed anyone could tame such a monst--" He
swallowed the remaining words as the wolf's head snapped up, fixating on
him with a hunter's stare. The massive creature growled; a sound so full of
menace that the equid's blood turned to ice. Centaurs had no more ancestry
in common with horses than they did a fish, but at that moment Ataxion felt
like nothing more than a young foal separated from its parents, defenceless
in the world. *Danger! Predator! Flee!* He was at rest, and it would take
several seconds for him to rise to his full height and be ready to use his
powerful legs to defend himself. But it would take this beast less than a
second to leap across the gap between them, wide jaws slavering, and rip
out his throat or claw open his defenceless belly...

But then the stallion gave the wolf a smack on the head, and the lupine
jerked and whined, and the spell was broken. The great wolf blinked twice,
his gaze changed from deadly hunter to curious observer, and he settled
more comfortably against the stallion's side before lifting a leg and
beginning to lick himself.

"Do not mind his posturing," Isaac said, smiling at the gigantic wolf as if
it were a rambunctious puppy. A puppy that could bring down an elk. "He
enjoys making an entrance. But..." He made an equivocating motion with his
hand. "If I were you, I would avoid any further insinuations that he is
tame -- or owned." The wolf looked up again at the words, and then returned
to his work. He was lapping his tongue along his member with slow, arrogant
strokes; the red canine penis was half-revealed and as monstrously large as
its owner. "The Beast is no tame creature, Ataxion," Isaac continued. "Not
mine, nor any mortal's. He belongs to Beinir." He picked up a stick from
the fire and waved it about, the glowing point tracing a path through the
darkness. The Beast's eyes followed it. "I own him only as much as anyone
can own the sun or the stars. It pleases him to accompany me on my travels
-- but on occasion, it pleases him more to make his own way." He dropped
the stick back into the fire. "As Beinir wishes."

The name of Beinir was alien to the centaur. "Forgive me," he said formally
-- and a touch nervously -- to the wolf. "I meant no offence." The beast
lifted his head to look at the centaur again, and licked his chops once
before returning his muzzle to between his legs. That, the centaur
supposed, was what passed for acceptance. What a marvellous strange
creature this was, that understood the languages of people.

When he commented as such to the stallion, Isaac grinned. "That is not too
surprising," he said. "The Beast was a man, once. A human." He leaned
towards the wolf with a smirk and whispered a word. "*Arax.*" The wolf
looked back up at him with a nearly unreadable face that Ataxion would
nonetheless have sworn was unimpressed, and the stallion tapped him on the
nose. "Not so very long ago, in truth. In a distant land, his hungers drew
the attention of Beinir. After he had worshipped the god to his
satisfaction, he was gifted this form to continue to serve him. And so,
now, the lusty human is an even lustier wolf." His eyes roved down the
wolf's body to his hard, glistening penis, staring at it hungrily. "Far
better...*equipped* to serve our master."

Ataxion was dumbfounded. "This...he was human?" He stared at the beastly
mountain of muscled fur and claw and cock. "What is this god you serve, who
transforms his followers thus? I have never heard of such a thing..."

Isaac broke his admiring look at the wolf's body, and shrugged. "Nor I,
before I joined his priesthood. Yet the reality lies before you. He is a
god of males; of the pleasures they share." He stared at the centaur with a
considering look, and Ataxion felt his gaze like two pinpricks, pressing
against his skin as if trying to taste what lay underneath. That was
probably the effect of the ale; he had finished his, he noticed suddenly,
despite not meaning to. That would be why his head had been feeling light
for the last while. It was a pleasant lightness, at least; one that quieted
dark thoughts and let more pleasant feelings come forth. He watched the
wolf continue licking himself.

"I have often wished my kind could pleasure themselves as easily as that,"
he said abruptly. He'd only meant to think the words, but the ale had
intervened. Not that it was false, but it felt odd to be saying it to a
stranger -- and doubly so this one. A thrill ran through him, and he
glanced at Isaac; the horse had leaned back, his face half in shadow, and
the centaur could not make out his expression. His voice, though, was as
clear as a bell.

"Far more, I am sure, would trade that ability to have the form of a
centaur -- or at least, part of it." Coals crackled in the pregnant
silence, and Ataxion waited. He had an idea of what the horse might say
next.

"I have heard your kind is more well-appointed than even the largest
stallion." Asked with casual interest, but brimming with eagerness for the
answer. A fox, a horse, or some other -- all males wished to know how they
compared to the might of a centaur stallion, and the power of what he
carried between his legs. And with a belly full of warm food and a head
full of strong ale, he was more inclined to be indulgent.

"It is true." It was a simple fact -- albeit one that Ataxion took no small
pleasure in. "We are lengthier, more girthy...and we have more stamina. Our
stones are larger, and our climaxes are harder." Centaurs lived long, and
had few children; their fertility was ensured through repetition, volume
and force. Not that Ataxion used his gifts to try for children.

"As if a horse's endowment was married to a man's burning lusts," the
stallion observed. Not an incorrect conclusion, Ataxion decided. Did the
horse's breeches look tighter than before? "My master is fond of three
males above all others, centaur. The wolf, the stag...and the stallion."
There was a soft chuckle. "Stallions of all types."

Ataxion was breathing shallowly now. He felt good; better than he had for
some time. The ale, the food, the fire...the conversation. The same
thoughts that had made him flirt with the fox earlier were returning, and
they were warm. "What would your god say about a centaur stallion?" he
asked.

The horse's eyes glittered in his shadowed face. "The same that he tells to
all. Be happy; do not feel shame. Take pleasure in what you have been given
-- and use it to bring pleasure to others."

"Merely that?"

The horse's feral grin was clearly visible. "No, indeed. For you, for a
male as...*potent* as you...he would ask more." He leaned forward, and the
firelight caught his focused look. "He would ask you to climax, as a
veneration to him. To spray your seed on the ground as an offering. To take
pleasure in pleasure itself." That seemed to spark a thought within in. "Do
you make do as bestial stallions do, my well-endowed friend? When you wish
to pleasure yourself?" When the centaur nodded, Isaac reached a hand up to
stroke a finger along the side of his face. "And how," he murmured, his
words a low and husky purr, "might that be?"

The centaur felt his face flush with blood and hoped the low light would
obscure it. He considered ending this line of questioning, but there was
something about the horse that made him wish to keep speaking. It wasn't
that the stallion was *that* attractive, although he was good-looking
enough, with those broad shoulders and deep chest. It was more the aura of
casual sexuality that surrounded him: as if mating was a repast he partook
of as often -- and as easily -- as others breathed. Where the fox earlier
had been so eager that there had been no disguising what his thoughts were
-- and thus, no real thrill -- the horse was more mature; if his mind ran
along the same lines as the vulpine, he did not let it show quite so
obviously.

Except that his trousers were most certainly bulging more than before.

The stallion's heavy stare as he asked his probing questions was pleasant,
and led to a stirring of the equid's loins. Ataxion enjoyed knowing others
found delight -- or more carnal feelings -- in the sight of him: it was why
he had been so quick to tease the fox, and why he now felt his heartbeat
accelerating. He was certainly not above showing off what he had been born
with.

The centaur reached for another sip of ale before remembering it was
finished. He replaced the tankard and licked his lips, thinking. "We allow
ourselves to...become erect," he said at last, harrumphing before the last
words. "We tug upon our members, and they rise up and strike our
bellies. We repeat that until we...reach our climax."

"Intriguing," the horse said softly. He was sitting up now, legs crossed,
each hand resting upon a thigh. The centaur could not help but glance
between them. "May I...see?"

The centaur paused for only a moment before pushing himself to his feet. He
turned, putting his side to the horse and breathing deeply. His eyes
closed, and his thoughts went where they always did when he wished to
become aroused.

Nero.

He visited a favoured memory: the two of them together, travelling the
plains south of Kalaka. It had been many weeks across the wide grasslands,
but they had not been in any rush. By day, Ataxion would walk with Nero
seated upon his back, the lithe human's bow and quiver hanging at his
side. He so adored the feeling of the smaller male upon him, especially
when they were out on a journey like that; Nero would discard his clothes
the moment they were alone, and pass the time as nude as his tall, strong
lover. The centaur could feel the muscles of Nero's ass flexing against his
spine with every step, and -- if he broke into a canter -- the *flop, flop*
of the human's fat penis against him.

Then Nero would laugh, and grip the centaur's sides with his thighs, and
urge him to go faster. And if Ataxion reached his hands behind him, he'd
feel the human clasp them and raise himself up to stand upright -- form
pressed tightly against the centaur's back, cock nestled in between them
like a sleeping worm -- as they galloped across the fields. Nero would
scream with joy as his lover's powerful form hurtled them along, and
Ataxion would laugh and cry out to him, and Nero would release one hand and
raise it high, as high as it would go, and close his eyes in bliss as the
wind whipped through their hair. He used to say that he reached up to try
and touch the sky.

And when evening came -- with meals consumed, and fires banked -- Ataxion
would lie on his side amongst the fragrant grasses, and Nero would rest his
head upon his lover's belly, and sigh with the satisfaction of simple
pleasures. His hands would stray down to between the centaur's legs, and
tease the great equine cock to wakefulness, and as the centaur moaned and
urged him on, the human would pleasure his lover with soft hands and an
eager mouth until Ataxion gasped and cried out, his voice drifting far
across the grasslands as his flare swelled and his seed exploded down his
lover's greedy throat...

Ataxion was fiercely hard now, and he clenched his muscles to make his
heavy erection rise up and slap his belly. The impact sent a pleasurable
thrill through him, and he gasped and clenched his hands, and did it
again. The sound his cock made was the only noise in the night, a wet
impact as his drooling flare smacked against his firm underside. Every
time, an electric thrill ran down his cock from flare to sheath to balls,
and he moaned a little harder. He imagined Nero was under him, watching him
do it, as he loved to do. Imagined him reaching out to stroke along the
shaft and kiss his velvet skin, and aid him as his climax built. And -- for
a second -- when he felt the hands upon him, his heart surged with
impossible hope.

But it was only Isaac.

"Let me help you, Ataxion," the horse murmured. His one hand grasped the
stallion's flare, fingers gently wrapped around it, curled behind the
nubbed ridge as he squeezed in rhythm with the stallion's flexing. His
other hand stroked along the centaur's magnificent length, and his words
were soft and caring. "You have travelled so long and far, Ataxion. Endured
much. I can do little, but I can ease your burdens -- if only for a night."

Ataxion's heart pumped hard, and his cock swelled. The horse knew exactly
what parts of him to touch; it was like magic. The hand holding his flare
was thoroughly wetted now with pre-cum, and he slid it all about the
bulbous end, teasing here, pressing there. The centaur could not help but
jerk his hips, desperate to penetrate that feeling, to fill it with his hot
seed, to let his orgasm erase the suffering that had been his companion
since he left home. His eyes were screwed shut, his hands clasped to his
body, imagining it was Nero's lithe form he held, wishing he was kissing
the human's soft lips and running his hands through his tousled hair as the
other male chuckled and murmured sweet things to him in soft tones. The
pain of his lover's absence grew in tandem with his arousal, and even as he
felt his flare swell to its fullest extent, and his balls rise, tears were
running from his eyes.

He screamed Nero's name when he came, the anguished word shattering the
night, and as brief pleasure fled from the places it had filled, misery
slunk back in.

The centaur let his legs buckle, and he fell to the ground heavily,
weeping, hands held to his face as his shoulders heaved and his breast
burned. He had restrained himself from such unfettered release for ages,
for fear it would remind him too keenly of what he'd lost -- and so it
had. The hole in his heart yawned as wide and as painfully as it had on
that very first day. He had let himself become numb to tolerate it, but now
that that layer had been stripped away, his suffering was exposed once
more, as raw as it had ever been.

Nero was gone, and who knew if he would ever be found?

An arm wrapped around his back and a forehead pressed to his own. "Oh,
Ataxion," the horse said, his voice cracking with pathos and empathy,
"forgive me for this hurt. I did not know." He hugged the centaur, and the
centaur hugged back, his girder-like arms almost crushing the equine. He
was pathetically grateful to simply have contact with another person. Tears
ran down his face and into the horse's mane, darkening the hairs, and the
quiet sound of his tragedy floated away with the splashes and the gurgling
of the river.

When the tears had ceased, Isaac came to sit beside the centaur and
listened as he told his tale. Ataxion told him everything: how Nero had not
returned one day from his hunt; how the centaur had found the remains of a
slaver camp in the woods, where they must have been watching the settlement
for days; how he had struck out in the likeliest direction to find them,
towards the coast...and how he had been thwarted ever since. He had been
searching for months and had nothing to show for it. Even the Beast woke to
listen to his tale, his large, yellow eyes staring intently throughout,
before rising and disappearing into the night.

"I do not even know if I have gone in the right direction," the centaur
said bitterly at the end, staring into the flames of the fire that the
horse had stoked back to life as the night cooled further. "I may be
nowhere near him. I may have been hurtling away from him all this time...or
he may already be dead." He took in a deep, ragged breath at that thought,
and his voice grew shaky. "But I...I could not remain there without him. I
could not simply sit and accept this...this *evil*." He shook his
head. "So, I travel. I search. I hope." He gestured at the stallion's bow,
set aside. "He is an archer too. We hunt together; with him astride me, no
prey can escape us. We are...were...*are* a perfect pair. Soulbound." He
had not felt this miserable in some time. "One soul, sundered by
wickedness."

The stallion had not interrupted during the centaur's retelling, but his
face had grown stern, and his golden eyes shone. "A wrong righted is a rare
thing in this world," he said, when the centaur at last fell silent, "for
it requires the actions of a righteous person...and there are few enough of
those." He rested a hand on Ataxion's shoulder. "Your quest is truly
righteous, Ataxion, and I believe you have the truth of it. This is the
path slavers would follow; likely travelling by night and avoiding people,
yet remaining close enough to the road to keep an eye for unwary travellers
to add to their collection." He sighed. "Yet who may truly say?"

"Might Beinir?" The centaur dared to hope. This new god seemed different;
perhaps...? But no: the stallion was already frowning.

"He is not one to answer seekings, Ataxion," he said sadly. "I am
sorry. But I shall still ask. And no matter what the gods say, I wish good
favour on your search."

"Thank you, Isaac," the centaur said, clasping the horse's hand in his
own. "I have borne this burden so long by myself, I had forgotten that
sharing can give some measure of relief." He took a deep sigh and put on a
brave smile. "Tomorrow, I will continue. And I will not stop until I find
him."

Isaac smiled. "You shall, my friend. I know it." He reached over to lift
his empty tankard and shook it unhappily in the air. "But tomorrow can take
care of itself. Shall we drink some more to take care of tonight?"

The horse fetched more ale, and he and the centaur spoke long into the
night. Isaac told him of his travels, and the adventures -- both ordinary
and ribald -- that he had had, while Ataxion spoke of his home, and how he
had met Nero. The moon rose, pale and bright, and they spoke on until
Ataxion's eyes began to flag. The horse noticed, and chuckled, and wished
him pleasant dreams. The centaur moved a little distance away, such that
the fire would still warm him, and let sleep take him. The last image he
saw was of Isaac, settled against the large rock on the other side of the
fire, gazing at the centaur as if deep in thought. Like a Listener.

Ataxion slept deeply, waking only after the sun was already in the sky. He
blinked up at the clouds scudding across the spring sky, and pushed himself
to his feet, grunting at the aches peppered throughout his muscles. The
fire was dead, and there was no sign of the stallion or of the
wolf. Alas. He had hoped to wish them farewell before departing. The
centaur sighed and stretched his arms with a yawn. No matter. He would ask
the innkeeper for some cold meat and perhaps bread, to break his fast, and
then continue down the road. The next town along would take him only a few
days to reach...

"Ataxion!"

Isaac strode out from around the edge of the inn, the Beast hot at his
heels. He seemed animated, and the centaur raised his eyebrows -- then
raised them further as the stallion slapped a hand against each of his arms
and squeezed excitedly.

"Ataxion -- I have news!" He paused for only a second. "The Beast was
hunting last night, and perchance he stumbled upon a camp in the forest."
His eyes glittered. "*Slavers*, Ataxion. Closer than the villagers would
ever know, Beinir bless them, and travelling as I surmised: by night, and
unremarked." He looked down at the huge wolf beside him. "He would have
passed them by at first, thinking them only a band of raucous revellers,
but for your tale. He slipped closer and observed them, and noted them for
what they truly are. Rough and dangerous types, with many weapons -- and
captives! A bevy of them. I suspect they wish to reach the coast and make
thence for Perring's Point, to sell the wretched souls on..."

Ataxion felt a throbbing in his ears, as if they had filled with fluid that
dulled every sound. Every word the stallion said after *slavers* was lost
to him. He wrung his arms free of the stallion's grasp and gripped him in
turn, his powerful hands pressing so hard into the stallion's flesh that
they left marks. He pulled the horse closer and thrust his face against
him, breathing hoarsely, with wide eyes. He had a terrible feeling that he
had not yet awoken from his slumber, and that he would soon reopen his eyes
and discover this to be nothing but a cruel jape his mind had played on
him. There had not been so much as a hint of the slavers since the earliest
days of his search...and now this stranger was telling him that he had not
only seen them -- but close by! The centaur was entirely unprepared. His
hearts were two mad things in his chests, and he could not draw enough
breath to speak. He felt terrified to permit the hope to spread, for fear
that it would turn out false and crush him.

But the horseflesh under his hands felt warm, and real, and his veins
became filled with fire.

"Is he there?" he rasped, a throbbing quaver almost swallowing the
words. "Is Nero there?" He did not even question how the stallion had
received such detailed information from a mere wolf. The hope, the
impossible hope, was ignited already, and it would either burn out the last
of his inner strength -- or it would set him all aflame. "*Is he there?"*
he roared, when the stallion did not at once respond, his strength shaking
the big horse about as if he were made of kindling. Then a single equine
hand flew up to cup his face, and Isaac faced him down with clenched jaw
and eyes of steel.

"He is there, Ataxion," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Nero
lives."

The centaur ripped his hands free of the horse and screamed into the sky, a
bestial cry that in times past would have frozen the marrow in the bones of
his enemies. Neither human nor equine, but other, and all the more
terrifying for it. Centaurs were an ancient race, well-regarded...but time
hid the truth well, when enough of it had gone by. They had learned the
value of peace at the bright ends of spears and at the edges of sharpened
hooves. Creatures with the blood-lust of men, but the stamina and strength
of stallions: they had waged wars terrible and endless. Their forms had
been trained in battle, and their fearsomeness had been legendary. Those
times were so far gone, even many centaurs knew them not. They passed their
days now in quietude and study, the dusk-time of their people...but blood
could not forget. It remembered vengeance, and slaughter, and what had to
be done to claw victory from the body of a broken foe.

"Where!?" he cried. "Show me!" He felt fury at the sudden indecision on the
stallion's face. "You cannot keep this from me, stallion!" The door of the
inn had opened, and the innkeeper's wide-eyed face peered out at the
furious scene. Ataxion ignored him. "Show me where he is, or by your god's
balls I shall *wring* it from you...!"

Isaac stepped back from the centaur's fury. "My friend," he began, and
Ataxion screamed again and reared into the air, massive hooves slamming
down onto the ground before him, the force making his taut muscles shudder
and his braided hair swing wildly.

"*Where is he!?!"* he bellowed. Agony filled his head. To be this close,
after so long, and to be denied at the last. Why did the horse torment him
so? He would tear him apart to get the answer if he had to!

"Ataxion, there are too many," Isaac pleaded. His eyes were wide now at the
unfettered display of the centaur's power. "Ten, twelve -- more! You cannot
triumph alone..."

"*Where is he!?*" The centaur's voice broke now, and tears ran from his
eyes. "I cannot abandon him to that suffering. He *needs* me!"

"Ataxion, I beg of you...let us gather some townsfolk, enough to be a
threat. We can drive them off..."

"*No!"* The horse simply didn't understand. How could he? "They may move
on! They may injure him! I cannot wait!" He held out hands like claws to
the horse and snarled. "Is this what your god teaches, then? To leave
innocents in peril when you have the means to save them?"

Isaac seemed discomfited by that, and was momentarily at a loss for
words. "It is not like that, Ataxion," he said at last, and the centaur's
answering snarl could have come from the wolf. "My god is a god of
pleasure," he tried to explain, "not of battle. I am not a soldier -- and
neither are you! What good are you to Nero if you are captured in turn --
or even killed?"

But Ataxion would not be swayed. "What good am I to him standing *here*,"
he yelled, "doing *nothing*?" He stepped right up to the horse, his huge
form towering above him, and clenched his hands, his huge arms bulging like
sacks of summer wheat. "This is an evil thing, Isaac, and it does not need
soldiers to set aright -- only righteous hearts." The centaur breathed
heavily and held out his hands in supplication. The fury was draining from
him, leaving him shaking in fear and worry, but resolution was in his
heart. "I will go alone if I have to -- but I must know where he is."

He knelt before the horse, his lowered height bringing their eyes to a
level.  "I beg you," he said desperately. "I *beg* you. I ask you in the
endless names of the gods -- in the name of *your* god. By Beinir, I
beseech you: *where is my Nero?*"


----------

The centaur thundered through the fields, hooves tossing up clods of earth
as he galloped. His body sang with might, and his hands were clasped into
fists at his side as he looked about frantically for the landmarks the
horse had given him. There was the hill with the rocky mount -- so *that*
was the forest.

He slowed as he entered the trees, moving between the trunks more quietly
than his bulk would suggest possible. The horse had told him the camp was
in a clearing, near a brook. The centaur stopped and shut his eyes,
listened intently for the sound of flowing water. *There.* He moved towards
it, taking care to pause every little while and peer through the trees for
any sign of motion. The burbling sounds gradually grew louder, and
Ataxion's footsteps slower. The Beast had somehow conveyed that the slavers
only seemed to have a single lookout; perhaps, this close to their ultimate
goal, and after so long without being caught, they had become
careless. Their inattention could only work in Ataxion's favour. The
centaur crept deeper, the thick canopy's shadow helping him to blend into
the trees. It could not be much further; the wood was not that large.

*There!*

Had that been a scrap of conversation? And woodsmoke?

He froze in place as the clear sound of laughter drifted closer on an
errant breeze. He peered through the leaves in all directions, seeking any
sign of a watchman. If there was one, they were too well-hidden for his
keen eyes to spot. The centaur took another step and then paused again, a
little fearful of being spied before he could even see his quarry. But
nonetheless...they were *here!* The horse had not been wrong. And if they
were, then so was Nero. Sour fury filled his throat at the thought of his
lover imprisoned by these low beasts, and he crept closer, resting each
hoof as softly as he could.

Eventually, a thick stand of timber was all that obscured his sight the
main camp; he could hear indistinct voices and occasional laughter from the
other side. He moved slowly along it, eyes flicking tensely all about him,
seeking a crack in the wall of trunks to...*ah!* Through a gap between the
trees, barely wider than his body, he could see motion. He crept up to an
ancient oak, only his face peering out around it, and stared at his hated
targets for the first time.

They were rough, as the stallion had said. Big, and unkempt; from the grime
that covered them and their clothing, it had been a very long time since
any had bothered to wash. Ataxion could see a couple of tigers, their
stripes crisscrossed by scars, and a heavyset wolf who had a scowl dark as
thunder on his face. He was arguing with an enormous black bear who had to
be their leader; his arrogant stance said it all. They were fighting about
something the centaur could not make out: the wolf was shaking his head and
waving his hands around while the tigers watched in amusement. Disagreement
was good. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

The bear finally snarled at the wolf and turned away, gesturing to someone
the centaur could not see. The wolf crossed his arms and seemed to fume as
they waited for the third person. In time, he appeared: a polar bear almost
as big as his leader. In his fat paw he grasped a slim pink twig of an arm,
and he hurled its owner to the ground before the other two slavers, then
spat on him. The black bear grinned and pointed at the prisoner as if to
make a point -- before reaching down to grip the limp figure's hair and tug
it upward, looking him over as if considering a pig due for slaughter.

The face was bruised, swollen, and crusted with blood, but Ataxion could
have made out Nero's features from twice as far away.

He had crossed half the distance to the camp before he realised he was not
telling his body what to do. The faces between the trees were staring in
his direction, horror and confusion painted across them; that made him
realise he was screaming his unearthly battle cry. He did not feel part of
himself. It was as if he was another entity, riding himself into battle:
fists held high, ready to fight, an avatar of war.

He leapt when he cleared the stand of timber at the edge of the camp -- his
immense legs hurling him high and far -- and landed heavily amidst yells
and screams from the slavers, his hooves scattering coals from a campfire
as he thudded into and through it. In the shock of the huge centaur's
charge, the bear had dropped Nero; Ataxion stared down at the bruised and
beaten face of his lover, and his heart all but burst -- before turning to
ice at what they had done to him. His rage was a too-large beast within
him, roaring to escape, and he shook with the power of it. *Pay! Pay! MAKE
THEM PAY!* He screamed again and turned to the side, slamming a massive
fist directly into the face of the nearest person: the slaver leader, still
fumbling for the sword at his belt as the centaur's hand crashed into
him. Ataxion felt things break under his fingers; the impact hurt, but he
welcomed the pain. Pain meant revenge. Pain meant justice. And as the
ursine thudded senselessly to the ground, his face a red mess, chaos was
set free.

A ribbon of pain slashed across his thigh, and Ataxion roared and kicked
out with a hoof, feeling it connect with something resistant -- and then
punch through it. Warm liquid splattered onto his leg and thigh, and
renewed screams of horror and fear sounded out around him. He whipped
around to that side, ignoring the dead polar bear on the ground and fixing
his eyes on a tiger standing just beyond. The big cat's stunned gaze --
locked to the sight of what the centaur's savage kick had done to his
companion -- was his undoing. Ataxion barrelled forward into him, grabbing
him around the neck and squeezing with all his might, watching the tiger's
eyes bulge and feeling his claws scratching madly at the centaur's arms,
leaving deep welts. The pain was nothing. Revenge was sweet. He squeezed
harder, then twisted his hands with a yell until he felt something give. He
dropped the tiger's body and swung his head about wildly, seeking a new
target.

He would kill them all. One by one.

Madness surrounded him. To one side, more prisoners: three humans sat with
their backs to a pole embedded in the ground, screaming and begging the
centaur for help. Slavers were yelling at one another, running for safety,
tugging weapons from discarded scabbards and from under bedrolls. Flames
billowed up from a tent; the scattered coals must have ignited the
cloth. None of the remaining slavers were coming for him yet; chances were
that they were used to fighting dirty, but only on their own terms. It was
unlikely that any of them had experience equivalent to a massive, enraged
centaur materialising in their midst, entering their lives with smoke and
fear and death.

An arrow flew wide of him, whining through the air like a terrified animal,
and he turned in the direction it had come: the ashen expression of a young
otter stared back at him. A huge ram with an evil-looking sabre stood
between him and the young archer, but he might as well have been a
sapling. Ataxion roared and hurtled towards him like fate writ large. The
ram stood his ground, slashing the air before him to ribbons with powerful
blows and tilting his heavy horns in the centaur's direction as if planning
to gore him. Ataxion made to simply trample the smaller creature, but the
ram leapt to the side at the last moment, thrusting out blindly with his
weapon.

The tip of the sabre caught Ataxion at the top of his front leg and sliced
along the flesh as he hurtled by, making the centaur scream as pain
hammered through his side. But then he was past, and the archer was ahead,
sprinting for a large tree to climb. Ataxion pressed his body harder --
feeling his front leg begin to falter -- and threw out an arm as he got
close, his fist connecting with the back of the archer's head and making it
snap forward in a decidedly unnatural manner. The otter dropped face-first
to the ground, his momentum making him slide along the dirt for a short
distance before crumpling up against the trunk of the tree he'd been trying
to reach.

The centaur turned again -- and a new flower of pain blossomed in his
rear. He bellowed in agony, turning to see an arrow protruding from his
thigh. Hatred kept him on his feet, however, and he started running towards
the nearest slaver he could see. Blood-thirst thudded in his ears and
clouded his vision. He would kill *all* of them! But his movements were
awkward where the ram's sabre had sliced into the muscle, and he stumbled
at the last, his huge body crashing to the ground. New bursts of pain
joined the others, sapping his strength and confusing him. The centaur
groaned and gritted his teeth as his vision wavered, shaking his head to
clear it. Close by, he saw a tiny figure lying on the ground, and heard it
whimper. The sound was worse than all the pain. His hands stretched forth,
trying to reach him. "Nero!" he screamed.

The small human form stirred, as if the sound of Ataxion's voice had roused
him -- but then fell still again. The centaur panicked, trying to push
himself to his legs to get closer and protect the small human. A fire
burned hotly to one side of him where a tent was consumed by flames, and he
sensed a figure getting rapidly closer from the side -- and then a sword
was to his throat, and a grime-smeared wolf was staring at him with wide,
terrified eyes and a snarl full of teeth. The sword pressed harder, and
Ataxion felt it slice a little into his skin. He stared back at the slaver
with loathing, preparing to push his fore-body up to try to grab the
weapon. But then another weapon pressed into his side, and he slid his eyes
to the side to see the ram who'd dodged his charge before, forcing the
point of his weapon against the centaur's soft, exposed belly.

"If you fuckin' *move*," he snarled, "I'll fuckin' *gut you*."

Ataxion went still. The slaver standing before Ataxion held his blade with
both hands, shivering with tension. "Lyam," he moaned. "Lyam, look what it
fucking *did* to Jerel." His sweaty paws tightened on the sword's hilt as
he stared at some horrific sight behind the centaur, his face
bloodless. Ataxion felt the blade press more firmly against his throat and
tried not to swallow. "And Kerr's fucking d-d-dead," the slaver said
through chattering teeth, "and I th-th-think Sarata too...it fucking killed
*three* of us, Lyam!"

The ram he'd called Lyam spat onto the centaur's body. "Fuckin' *shut up*,
Pod!" he yelled. His wide, bloodshot eyes roved around the chaotic
campsite. The remaining slavers -- all armed now, with swords and pikes and
bows -- were alternately watching the camp's boundaries and looking in
disbelief at the corpses the centaur had left in his wake. The ram looked
finally at the dead form of their erstwhile leader -- before locking back
onto Ataxion's face with a calculating look.

"We gotta fucking *kill it*, Lyam," Pod was saying hysterically, his
shaking getting worse, "and we gotta get the *fuck* out of here! What if it
told someone?" He whimpered fearfully. "What if there's *more* coming?"

"Shut up, Pod!" the ram screamed, spittle flying madly from his lips. His
dark tongue licked them clean again, eyes bright. "Kerr's dead, right? So
that means I'm in fuckin' charge now. You all got that?" His yell made all
the other slavers look in his direction, but none appeared to want to
challenge the power grab, and the ram flexed his shoulders with
satisfaction. "Kerr and Jerel died," he explained, "because they were too
fuckin' stupid to run away from a fuckin' *centaur*. We don't need their
type. Way I see it, we just got a bonus when we sell the humans." He wiped
his face on his sleeve and pressed the tip of his weapon harder against the
centaur, making Ataxion grimace and breathe more shallowly. "You got any
friends coming, you centaur *fuck*?" he hissed, his head tilted to one side
intently. "You got lucky this time. I *hope* you've got some friends
coming, so I can gut them all nice and proper."

"Gut *him*, Lyam!" Pod screeched in fear. "Before he kills more of us!" The
ram whirled and backhanded the wolf, making the other slaver drop his
weapon and stagger backwards, whimpering fearfully.

"Shut your *fuckin'* mouth, Pod!" the ram bleated. "How fuckin' stupid are
you? You think the *humans* will sell well?" His gaze ran over Ataxion as
if the centaur was made of gold and gems. "Imagine what this big bastard'll
go for..."

He turned to yell at one of the other slavers, and they hurried over to
hold their weapon against the centaur's exposed belly -- standing well
clear of his blood-soaked hooves. As one of the tigers came closer with
coils of thick rope in hand, Lyam moved up to hold the tip of his sabre
right above Ataxion's eye, meeting his conquest's angry gaze with a
triumphant sneer.

"So much as flick your fuckin' tail," he warned, "and we'll find out if you
scream like a horse when you die."

The tiger worked quickly, making each pair of Ataxion's legs fast with the
rope. The centaur's hands were still outstretched towards Nero, and when
the feline tried to pull Ataxion's arms back, the centaur resisted...until
he saw the weapons inching closer to his vulnerable areas. With despair, he
let them pull him further from Nero, who lay unmoving only a short distance
away. He was *right there!* After all this, to finally find him, to see him
a few hands-breadths away...and to be denied. Tears flowed from his eyes,
and his mind raced, trying to see a way out. "Nero," he whispered. "Nero,
Nero..." Lyam squinted at his wet face, and then his eyes widened. He used
the tip of his sabre to move Ataxion's braids aside to more clearly see his
face, and chuckled nastily.

"Oh...I *remember* you now," he said. "You were living with the human bitch
when we took him. Yeah." He nodded slowly and leered at the centaur. "You
two were being all lovey-dovey. A centaur and his slut. Fuckin' kissing and
shit."

"Fucking disgusting," the tiger snarled, and Lyam nodded in agreement.

"Sure fuckin' is." He went down to his haunches and tugged on one of
Ataxion's braids. "Did you mount your bitch as a stallion does?" he asked
with a sneer. "Fuck, his hole must be wrecked. Good thing that's not one of
the parts people pay for." He laughed madly as his own joke, then swivelled
on his heels and spat onto Nero. "*Fuck* you, *and* your pet, you fucking
dumbshit *horse!"* he snarled. "You came all this way just to get your
whore back? Why? What's special about that little pink fucktoy? Couldn't
you find someone else willing to swallow your disgusting cock?" He lifted
his blade to his face and giggled, scraping it along his stubble as he
thought. "Well...you've travelled far, huh? I think you should get what you
came for."

He tossed his sabre aside and pulled a dagger from his boot, waving it
nastily at the two lovers before sticking the point under Ataxion's chin,
forcing his head up. "You killed three of my people," he said intensely,
"so I'm gonna cut your fuckin' dick into three pieces. Then I'm gonna feed
each piece to your slut, and force him to swallow." Another leer. "Bet you
like it when he swallows. Well, good news -- you can watch your pathetic
bitch choke on your prick one last time." A mean laugh and a few cheers
rippled through the other slavers. "Then," the ram said energetically,
clearly inspired by the response from his companions, "when there's nothing
left between your legs except two balls and a ruin, I'm going to break your
arms, and hobble your legs, and make you carry our cargo the rest of the
way." That got an even larger cheer. "And *then*, when we finally get to
port..." He pointed his weapon at Nero. "I'll tie him up, and make him
watch as we slice you up - before his own turn, of course*.*" He giggled
again. "Balls first. Then eyes. Then the rest." He tapped the tip of his
dagger against his horns. "Wonder what those fancy warlocks across the sea
will pay for centaur liver? They don't know they need it yet...but I'll
convince them."

The slavers were relaxing now; one or two put their weapons down. Even the
high-strung Pod was smiling wanly -- but he still stared at the centaur as
if Ataxion might suddenly explode free of his bonds and slaughter them
all. "Relax, Pod," Lyam told him. He swung a foot, catching Ataxion along
the side of his face, making the centaur's head ring and his vision
blur. "See? He can't do anything now -- except make us a ton of gold,
right? And if he had friends, they'd have shown up by now."

Pod was still nodding happily when the arrow materialised in his chest.

"Shit!" Lyam screamed as his people hurled themselves towards cover for the
second time that day. Pod looked down at himself with a shocked expression,
a bloody mark spreading through his shirt around the arrowhead that stuck
an inch or two from his chest. A soft sigh came from him as he crumpled
into a pile, and his glassy stare judged the centaur as Ataxion huffed and
fought against his bonds, trying to make the most of the distraction. More
arrows were whistling through the air from the unseen archer hiding in the
forest, keeping the slavers pinned, and Ataxion turned his head to look at
his lover.

"Nero!" he yelled. The human was not moving. "Nero, please, wake up. Nero!"
Still no answer. Ataxion looked around, trying to make sense of the
situation. The slavers were reacting faster this time: a small group was
running from cover to cover, trying to flank the archer's position, while
others hurled detritus in his direction to distract him. One of them worked
his way to a tree, and stood behind it with a bow, ducking out a random to
shoot in the direction the other arrows were coming from. He'd just
finished nocking another missile when he screamed and vanished, as if
pulled under the surface of a lake. The slavers yelled and turned to see
where'd he'd gone, which meant that none of them were looking where they
should be when something huge and dark and deadly leapt from the woods,
howling a horrific, bloodthirsty howl.

The Beast ripped the nearest slaver's arm off with a single swipe of his
jaws, and bedlam erupted.

Slavers skittered like ants from the immediate danger of the wolf, and a
few got feathered shafts in their backs for their trouble. Some of the rest
had the wherewithal to grab pikes and stab them in the wolf's direction,
forcing him to stay at a distance, snarling and slavering. At least three
different people were yelling instructions and contradicting one another,
Lyam amongst them.

"Put a fucking arrow in it!"

"Retreat to the fire! They don't like fire!"

"Get up there and kill that fuckin' archer!"

A ragged counter-assault formed. Some slavers were firing arrows back into
the forest, slowing the rate and accuracy of the unseen archer's
shots. Most of the rest tried to keep the Beast at bay with swords and
pikes; one was too bold, and went in for the kill. His throat was ripped
out, and the rest kept their distance after that. The rest were looking
about frantically for other attackers, with Lyam standing in their midst,
trying to look everywhere at once and screaming at everything.

A voice shouted from the trees -- a familiar one. "Surrender!"

"Fuck your mother!" Lyam rejoined. He was looking towards the spot where
two slavers had managed to gain the treeline without being felled by
arrows. Ataxion tried to shout a warning, but his head swam when he took a
deep breath, and the pain in his side nearly stunned him. He managed only a
groan. Not that it was needed: there was a sudden yell from the forest, and
the sounds of a scuffle, and then nothing. Lyam looked eagerly forward --
and then lost his mind when Isaac emerged atop a low ridge on the far side
of the camp, bow in hand and bleeding profusely from a cut across his face.

"He's not a centaur!" the ram screamed in disbelief. "He's just a fuckin'
horse! Kill him!"

The discovery that they were not fighting another terrifying centaur seemed
to energise the slavers. Two broke from cover and ran towards the horse,
but the stallion released a couple of arrows in quick succession, and they
collapsed to the ground. Lyam was almost foaming at the mouth by now,
seemingly unconcerned with his own safety. He stood upright and bellowed;
when Isaac loosed an arrow at him, he flailed with his dagger, somehow
managing to hit the shaft and knock it aside. The next two shots fired at
him ended up embedded in Pod's body, as Lyam pulled his fallen friend up
just in time to catch the arrow, and Ataxion's heart -- only just refilled
with hope at the arrival of the stallion and his wolf -- fell again when he
saw Isaac's hand reach behind him...and then slowly lower itself.

The stallion was out of arrows.

The slaver leader cackled, tossing Pod's twice-arrowed corpse aside. To the
side, the Beast howled, and the centaur whimpered in fear to see one of the
slavers catch the wolf on the leg with a lucky swing of a pike. The
enormous lupine fell back a little, snarling viciously, cut off from
reaching either his companion or the centaur. Lyam looked gleefully over at
the trapped wolf, and then eyed Isaac's empty quiver. He flexed his sword
arm and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to gut you from cock to crown, you cunt!" he screamed. "You and
your fuckin' dog!*"*

Isaac opened his hand, and his now-useless bow fell to the ground. *Run*,
Ataxion thought. *Don't die here for us*. But the defenceless stallion
didn't flee: instead, his hands rose in surrender. *No, Isaac, no, no,
no...!* They would surely slaughter him. The horse's expression was tense,
and his eyes flickered to where the Beast was barely holding his own
against the mob of slavers, and then back to where Nero and Ataxion lay on
the ground. He looked afraid and trapped, and his lips moved as if he spoke
to someone that was not there.

Lyam didn't care. "Feather him!" he screeched, and one of the slavers fired
an arrow that caught the horse in the shoulder. Isaac cried out and
stumbled to one knee, and Ataxion went numb with horror. *No, no, no, no,
no...* Lyam bellowed with triumph and took his sabre firmly in one hand,
stalking towards the injured stallion. "You should never have come here,
fuckhead!" he yelled, speeding up to a jog, arm rising to begin the slash
that would end Isaac's life.

The horse breathed heavily, and lifted his head to stare at the approaching
ram. He seemed much calmer of a sudden, and as Lyam's arm swung down
victoriously to decapitate him, he raised a hand to defend himself. It
would never be enough. The heavy sabre would slice through it like
butter. Ataxion felt sick dread filling him, but he could not look
away. Down the weapon arced, shining like a guillotine blade, and caught
the horse between two of his fingers.

And stopped.

As Lyam gaped in disbelief, Isaac rose back to his feet, grasping the blade
still. The horse had no expression upon his face -- or he did, and it was
simply too inhuman for the horse's features to convey. He looked down at
the ram with dismissal or amusement or anger or all of them, and then he
spoke to him. But...not. For although he stood far too far from the centaur
for Ataxion to hear his soft words, they nonetheless cut through the
cacophony of madness, screams, and howls that filled the air as if he was
the only thing upon the earth that possessed a voice. A voice was no longer
Isaac's. A voice that was not even mortal: one that thrummed out along the
ground with primal force, scattering dust and pebbles with each word.

"And you should never have been born."

The stallion's yellow eyes burst into flame -- true flame, imbued with heat
that the centaur could feel clear across the distance between them, flame
that flowed from his orbits like smoke and curled around his face like
water set aglow with eldritch might. His body had not changed, and yet it
seemed at once to no longer be Isaac, but some other thing: something great
and terrible that merely inhabited his form. He glanced down at the arrow
that protruded from his shoulder; the shaft evaporated into
nothingness. Ataxion felt his body go rigid with an all-consuming fear that
stabbed into his mind and made it scream in wordless terror. The horse --
the thing that had been a horse -- emanated power; he shone with rage. He
was the vengeance of a spurned lover. He was a furious torrent, a merciless
sun, a howling blizzard.

He was destruction.

The ersatz stallion closed his other hand on empty air, and a shining bow
coalesced within his grasp. Lyam appeared frozen, staring at the creature
before him with horrified eyes. The stallion swung his hand almost as an
afterthought, and like a sword made of light, the manifested bow clipped
the ram's weapon -- shattering the steel like it was ice. Lyam screamed as
shards of metal flew outward, stabbing into his face and arms and chest --
and then stopped screaming when the creature's other hand gripped his neck
and lifted him bodily from the ground. The ram struggled, but the grasping
hand did not move an inch as those fiery eyes regarded him -- and then
their owner sighed.

"What an ugly soul you are." The tip of his bow dipped to the ram's
crotch. "Balls." Lyam's struggle intensified, and his hands clapped to his
crotch in agony. The bow rose and touched him on the brow. "Eyes." The ram
went rigid, his eyes turned white with blindness. The bow dipped forward
once more, touching him in the centre of his chest. "And for the
rest...well." Not-Isaac stared at the ram, head tilted; his gaze was
judgement absolute. "There are worse powers than I. Go and meet them."

He thrust his hand back and the ram flew away from it, out into the
air. Lyam barely had time to begin a scream before he was...taken. The
world folded, and a hole was made, and the ram disappeared within it. The
fold was unmade as quickly as it formed, but not quite quick enough: from
wherever it led, Ataxion had felt the acute gaze of a vast and baleful eye,
throbbing with malice and emanating endless hunger. Had his bladder not
already emptied itself, it would have done so then.

The thing that had been Isaac stepped forward, through the space where the
ram had been. He shone: as if the bow he held was leaking light, a glimmer
now crept up his flesh from his hand to his shoulder, making the entire
limb shimmer as if made of burnished metal. He looked down at the other
slavers, and only then did Ataxion notice -- tearing his eyes from the
unbelievable horse for the first time -- that none of them had fled. They
seemed to wish to, with weapons fallen from nerveless hands and faces
frozen in a rictus as pale liquid running down their legs, but they
appeared unable to. Even those that had been defending against the Beast
had halted -- but the Beast had not pursued them. In fact, he'd lain down
to lap at his wound, as if the events around him were perfectly ordinary.

In the air between the slavers and Isaac's body floated a few arrows,
unmoving; frozen in time as they had hurtled towards the horse. Isaac's
hand waved, and they were erased. "I, too, have arrows," the impossible
voice said. The bow of light was raised, and the other hand pulled at the
empty bowstring -- only for an arrow to appear within it, sharp and
glittering as crystal. The arms of the mythical weapon hummed, and the
arrow leapt forward, seeking out its target. A tiger fell, the arrow clean
through him -- and another right beside him. The horse did not pause, or
even aim. He fired arrow upon arrow at an unearthly pace, filling the air
with colours as the sky was split apart by their refractive light. Each
sought out a target, and none missed. The slavers fell like grain at
harvest time, and only when a handful still stood did the supernatural
assault cease. The stallion -- or whatever possessed him -- relaxed his
fingers, and the golden bow winked away as if it had nothing more than
air. He lifted his empty hand, and abruptly, the remaining slavers were
released from whatever invisible bonds held them. With terrified screams
and gibbering, they fled into the forest, pushing one another down and
trampling over each other to get ahead and escape the implacable stallion
who had slaughtered their companions.

They only delayed their end.

"For you, my first," Not-Isaac purred, looking towards the Beast with
love. The great wolf had held his ground as the slavers fell to ruin about
him, and even when they fled, he had not pursued them. Now, though, he
raised his head and bellowed a triumphant howl. He leapt after them as if
shot from a cannon, and vanished into the woods. There was a short period
of hideous noises...and then all was still, apart from wind and water.

Ataxion panted with fear and pain. His leg screamed, the arrow's head deep
in the muscle; every motion was agony. He could not have stood if his life
depended on it -- and perhaps it did. Isaac Golden-Eyes, force of
annihilation, was regarding him, and the centaur saw nothing merciful in
his burning eyes. The horse stepped closer, and the centaur felt his belly
contract within him, and heard a whimper bleed from his lips. Isaac went
down to his haunches beside the centaur, hands resting on his legs, and
Ataxion felt a confused laugh bubbling up within him as he noticed that the
horse had an erection bulging in his pants.

Then the stallion reached out a hand to caress the centaur's side, and the
dread was gone.

"I wish you no harm, Ataxion," he said -- or seemed to. Ataxion heard the
words inside his own head, gentle and mellifluous. "I was lax; you were
never the target of my rage." As the centaur felt his heart calm, the
stallion pulled his hand back to clasp and unclasp it before his face, as
if seeing it for the first time. "Isaac's form is unfamiliar to me. So
unlike my preferred stallion...but nevertheless." The hand dropped to where
the arrow was embedded in Ataxion's thigh, and the centaur felt the pain
evaporate. He cried out in amazement, turning to see neither arrow nor
wound -- then looking to his limbs as he felt the tension of the ropes
ease, their roughness slithering loose and falling to the ground. "Your
love is mighty, centaur," the horse continued, pushing himself back up to
his feet. "A thing of wonder. Nero is twice blessed: to have had you
before, and to have you yet."

Ataxion ignored the entity's words -- as much as one could ignore words
that sounded out within one's very skull -- and pulled himself along the
ground frantically, scrabbling against it with his hooves for
leverage. Nero was right there, and Ataxion was finally upon him; he pulled
the soiled human into his arms and his heart shattered when he felt how
limp he was. The human's filthy, bruised head lolled against Ataxion's
breast, and the centaur kissed his forehead and pulled him closer. "Nero,"
he wept, "oh, Nero...please...stay with me..."

"He lives yet, fear not," the horse told him in his wonderful
voice. Droplets of flame fell from his eyes like red autumn leaves from the
bough, dissolving as they floated down. "Although he would surely have died
had you not come." He looked at the two lovers: the massive, sweat-stained
centaur and the frail, pale human he held. "Twice-blessed," he murmured,
"and mine shall make it thrice."

The Beast appeared beside him, licking his red jaws clean, and the horse
swung an arm over him and scratched his ears. He lifted his other arm --
the one that glistered like honey, coated shoulder to fingertip with
shimmering fluid -- and flicked a finger at the lovers. A droplet of fluid
spun loose from his nail and curved up through the air to land on Nero's
back, then disappeared as it sank into his flesh. Then he looked over his
shoulder and did the same in the direction of the other captives who sat in
disbelief, still lashed to the pole. Their bindings came free, and they
fled into the forest.

The horse considered his work, and nodded in satisfaction. "Take him from
this place," he said, standing back up and regarding his arm with a curious
look; the golden fluid that coated it began to retreat, revealing plain
flesh once more as it trickled down until it disappeared from even the tips
of his fingers. "Take him away," he repeated, "and care for him. Treasure
him, Ataxion; he is a prize beyond measure, fiercely won. This is my gift
to you: he shall be hale again, his brokenness restored, and will never
recall the worst of this tribulation. He will be as you remember him." Then
the horse grinned, looking down at his crotch and stroking his swollen cock
through his trousers as if teasing a lover. "I ask but one boon of you in
return: care for my servant. He shall not thank me for this intrusion." The
horse released his member and gave a final warm smile to the centaur and
the human he cradled. "Farewell, Nero," he said gently. "Farewell,
Ataxion."

The flaming eyes winked out like a snuffed candle, and Isaac's body thudded
bonelessly to the ground. The Beast sniffed at him, and then wandered off,
unconcerned.

Ataxion gaped at the insensate pile of horsemeat, confused and still in awe
-- until Nero stirred in his arms and he forgot that anything else existed
beyond the wan, bleary-eyed face that looked up at him from the cradle his
arm made for it. His tears redoubled, dropping onto Nero's face; with a
rough finger, the centaur used them to wipe some of the grime off the
human's face as his throat closed up in relief and he tried not to hug his
lover so fiercely he would crush his bones. When the human lifted a shaking
hand, Ataxion took it, intertwining his fingers with Nero's and holding it
to his cheek, letting his tears run along their fingers. Nero looked at the
contact in shock, and then at the centaur's eyes as if seeing a
ghost. Ataxion stared back, saying nothing, but nodding answers to the
questions in his lover's eyes, and when Nero's expression crumpled and his
body started to shake with powerful, wracking sobs of relief, the centaur
lifted him up and pressed his lover's face gently into the crook of his
neck, hand upon the back of his head, supporting him. The centaur felt the
human's arms wrap tightly around his form in response, and whatever shaky
dams still stood inside the centaur broke free. His own vision was lost as
he burst into delirious, relived blubbering, and the two lovers were at
last reunited.

"I found you," Ataxion said, over and over, as he buried his face in his
lover's hair and kissed his head and wept. "I found you, Nero. I found
you..."


----------

Ataxion was walking along the road with Nero when he felt the horse on his
back stirring. They were halfway back to the village, with the sun lowering
in the sky. "He's awake," he said to Nero, and disentangled his fingers
from his lover's as they came to a halt. Isaac's hands pressed into the
centaur's back, and with a groan, he pushed himself upright, legs
straddling the centaur's back. Ataxion looked back with a smile as Nero
offered the horse a drink from a canteen they'd filled in the river, and
the stallion took it gratefully, emptying it with huge gulps before handing
it back and groaning once more, one hand to his head. On the other side
padded the Beast, looking up at the horse with curious eyes.

"Are you well, Isaac?" Ataxion asked, although he believed he knew what the
answer would be. The horse's mass had rested very heavily against his back,
and the centaur had been aware for some time that the stallion was both
quite erect, and drooling freely through his breeches, leaving a wet mark
against the fine hair of the centaur's back. No male could be feeling too
ill if he was so aroused.

"I...believe so," the stallion said carefully. Then his eyes shot to the
human that had given him the drink. "Nero!" he exclaimed.

"Hello, Isaac," the human said with a smile. Both he and Ataxion made
concerned sounds as the stallion made to dismount, until the horse paused
and looked at them with a flustered expression.

"You should not have let me ride!" he said in dismay. "Nero must rest! He
will be exhausted, injured..."

Nero laughed, making the horse's words fall off with confusion, and he
handed the canteen to his lover before skipping easily about them both,
ending his circuit with a high leap into the air and a whoop of
delight. Isaac looked on, stunned.

"Nero is fine," Ataxion told him, a rush of joy flooding his heart once
again. Whenever he thought he had felt it for the last time, it came
again. He hoped it would never end. "Better than fine. Isaac..." He shook
his head in wonder. "It is as if the travails of these last months had
never occurred." The human stepped closer to nuzzle against his lover's
chest, and Ataxion stroked his hair as his voice grew thick. "He was so
weak, and bruised, and hurt...and now he is perfect." He kissed the top of
Nero's head and turned welling eyes on the horse astride him. "I -- *we* --
lack the words to express the depth of our thanks for what you two have
done. I did not believe you would come..."

But the horse waved him to silence. "No thanks are needed, centaur," he
said gruffly. "I should have accompanied you from the start. A righteous
centaur should never have to stand alone against evil." He slid carefully
from the centaur's back, and Ataxion felt the stallion's hard member
pressing against him as he slipped down. It seemed pressed into his thigh
for a moment longer than it needed to, even after the stallion's hooves
landed on the ground -- and then the horse pulled himself back. Nero
unslung the bow he carried across his back, and handed it to the horse;
Isaac looked at it gratefully. "Even if weapons proved of little value in
the end," he muttered as he tucked his arm through the string.

"And yet," Ataxion persisted, "we are in your debt."

Isaac shook his head. "To see you and your love reunited...that is my
price, and you have already repaid me. I shall treasure this memory all my
life." They resumed walking, with Nero and Isaac flanking the stallion, and
the Beast trailing casually behind them all. Ataxion was about to offer
further thanks when Isaac coughed knowingly. "Besides," he said, "it is not
truly either of us that you need thank."

Nero and Ataxion glanced at one another as the horse raised one of his
arms, staring wistfully at it and stroking his fingers down the skin. The
sun's afternoon light made it seem as if the gilding had returned. "He
leaves a mark," he murmured to himself, and the centaur saw the horse's
eyes glance down to the bulge in his trousers -- and then across to the
centaur's face, meeting the equid's curious eyes without a hint of
embarrassment. Ataxion broke that look quickly; the horse's eyes carried
the same intensity that he'd seen from across the fire the night before,
and the centaur felt alarmed at how rapidly his pulse quickened with that
gaze resting on him.

The centaur looked over to Nero as the human said, "Ataxion told me what he
saw." His voice was stern, and deeper than expected for such a slight
man. "Was that...you?"

Isaac chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed rather
distracted. "Without, yes. Within? But a little." He kicked a pebble out of
his path. "Beinir delights in occupying the form of a stallion, but they
are not usually..." He paused.

"...you?" Ataxion supplied. The stallion gave a wry smile, and the centaur
continued. "I saw you speaking before...it happened." He lacked the words
to describe the experience; it already felt as though it had been a
dream. "Were you speaking to your god?"

"I was."

Ataxion nodded, and considered his words. "In my experience," he said
carefully, "the gods are vague. To the point of disability, even." He
frowned as he remembered. "I prayed at countless altars for assistance on
my quest, and sought help from most every Listener between here and the
Dark Sea. Not a one so much as told me `maybe'. Yet yours -- a god I had
never heard of -- not only manifests before my eyes, but does so to help
two strangers who have never uttered his name?" He snorted. "Why would that
be?"

The horse was silent for a little while, and then smiled. "I truly do not
know, Ataxion," he said. "The words I spoke were final words, not
supplication; I prayed for him to take my soul after death. I expected
his...arrival no more than you did." He shrugged. "But...perhaps your luck
finally arrived." The centaur's eyes narrowed at those words, but the horse
was speaking on. "Yet you are mistaken on one count: you do know his name."
He looked between the lovers with his intense eyes. "You have known it all
your life." He rested a hand on the centaur's body, stroking along its
length. "It brought you here, across the months and the miles, to be
reunited with your love. Beinir's name burns like a brand on your heart,
Ataxion -- though you call it other things. The love you share with Nero -
it is a worship to him. It...and other things."

He was still stroking a hand along the centaur's side, but it had dropped
lower as he spoke, and the centaur glanced across in surprise to feel it
stroking the edge of his underbelly. The stallion's eyes were looking at
Ataxion's rear half, unmistakably peering into the shadows between the
centaur's thick legs -- but lifted when he sensed the equid's eyes upon
him, matching them yet again with an intense look that Ataxion broke with a
gulp and a shiver. "I serve him," the horse continued, and the note of
uncertainty that had tinged his earlier words was gone, "but it would be a
lie to claim I understand him. I know only what he delights in." Ahead of
them, the village was coming into view; smoke rose from the stacks of the
inn.

"And what does he delight in, Isaac?" Nero asked, as if on cue. Ataxion
looked at his lover, and was shocked to meet a gaze almost as intense as
the stallion's own, but framed by the face he adored. Nero's hand came up
to cup his lover's breast, and the centaur pressed his own hand atop it and
felt like screaming for the intensity of the adoration he felt for this
perfect human. Tears came instead, and he dropped his head to Nero as his
lover stepped closer; their kiss was long and sensual. They were the only
two in the entire world, it seemed to Ataxion, their lips and tongues
speaking a silent language that no others were beholden to. And when their
exchange was ended, Isaac stood before them.

"He delights in you," he said simply. "Your love. Your forms. Your
lusts. Your pricks." He said the words as if they were a sacrament. "He has
surely returned you to one another because it pleases him to see the
perfect union of males. And you are..." His words grew breathy. "You are
both perfect."

It was Nero, as always, who took the lead. His firm hands hooked against
Ataxion's side and over his back, and before the centaur could turn, his
lover had vaulted onto his back, sitting across the wide muscles with
practised ease. Ataxion gave a yell of delight to feel that wonderful
weight upon him once again, and heard Nero laugh with him, his warm hands
clutching his lover around the waist. Isaac stepped back, shaking his head
in wonder. "Magnificent," he said, and Ataxion looked back again to see
Nero resting proudly astride him, more king than marksman. The centaur's
heart swelled with pride and happiness, and he reared a little to show his
rider off. Nero cheered, and pulled himself close behind the centaur's
human half, arms slipping further around him, mouth seeking up to meet his
lover's ear.

"Let me touch the sky, my love," he whispered.

Ataxion leapt forward, and they began to streak across the fields as the
sunset bled into the hills beyond. Nero was gripping him tightly, and the
centaur had no fear of dislodging him. Indeed, he felt unbounded. It was as
if every footfall erased one day of the long months they had been apart,
every impact of his hooves against the ground crushing yet another a
terrible memory underfoot. They were all replaced with him: with Nero. The
wonderful sound of his yells of pleasure as the centaur hurtled through the
evening. The warmth of his arms around his body. The perfect, lingering
taste of him in his mouth. Ataxion cried in wordless bliss and ran faster,
his strides lengthening, his chest heaving for breath as his body exerted
itself to its fullest extent.

He felt Nero's arms slide up his chest, and grinned. His arms rose, lifting
his hands over his shoulders; they met their counterparts, and Nero rose to
his feet, his heels and toes nestled between the undulating muscles of his
lover's broad back. He stood tall as the centaur ran on, like a pale arrow
loosed from a god's bow, and he screamed into the wind and wept and
cheered. And when one hand loosed itself from Ataxion's grip, the centaur
looked up to see it reaching into the sky, as if to pluck a star from the
spread of night and bring it down to earth. As he had done countless times
before. As if the two of them had never even been apart.

They hurtled onward. Ataxion felt as though he wanted to run forever. And
why not? They were reunited; all they needed was each other. He would
gallop, and Nero would ride, and together they could go anywhere. He would
carry this little human to the very last lands if he had to -- and then?
Beyond. His footfalls would press against the loam and then rise into the
air, and they could visit the stars his lover had tried to touch for so
long, and tell them also of the tale of the love of Nero and Ataxion.

The centaur only slowed his ecstatic gallop when Nero squeezed his hand,
and as he came to a halt, he felt the human press against his back -- and
stay there. He sighed to feel the man's penis pressing against him, swollen
and needy, and lifted his head to meet his lover's lips. No sensual
exchange this time; Nero dug greedily into the centaur's mouth as he slid
his crotch back and forth, grinding against his lover's body. His moans
were soaked in lust, and the centaur felt his own cock throb and begin to
drop at the thought of what those horny sounds intimated.

Nero eventually broke the kiss, and Ataxion felt him sit back down
carefully, his hands massaging up and down the centaur's human back as he
spoke. "I need you, my love," he said, his words thick and slow. "My body
craves a stallion. My cock throbs for you. My balls *ache* to cum for you!"
He groaned and leaned forward, hands slipping around to tease the centaur's
nipples, making Ataxion cry out and drop half his cock in one sudden
slithering motion. "I feel you," the human said, his cheek pressed against
the equid's back, agile fingers tweaking the two now-erect fleshy nubs, the
way he'd learned that the centaur loved. He took a deep breath. "I can
smell your cock, my love. Your beautiful horsecock, slipping out for me
below. It smells like sex, and rutting. It smells of need. Oh, my poor
Ataxion..." He kissed the centaur's back with gentle lips, working down
from the neck to the small of his back. "I pray you have not waited all
this time for release."

"Empty releases, my love," the centaur told him, as the human slipped from
his back and came to stand before him. His tattered breeches could barely
hold back the erection that stood out proud, and Ataxion looked at it
longingly. "Stones tossed into a river. Marks washed away in an instant."
His own cock was hard now, and he tugged on it to make it slap -- just to
see the look of delight and lust on the human's face. "I want you, Nero,"
he said urgently. "I want your touch, your mouth upon me. My balls are
heavy and full...drain them for me." He slid a hand down the human's face,
and slipped his thumb between the fat, pink lips; Nero suckled on it with a
dreamlike expression. "My cock is fat, and long, and dripping," the centaur
murmured. "I want to feel your lips worshipping it as before..."

Nero stepped up to him, and Ataxion withdrew his thumb. The human's quick
hands rubbed all over the centaur's broad chest, feeling his muscles and
stroking through the dark hair that grew like a garden across it before
returning to tease -- intently -- at the male's big nipples with one hand,
and rub the other over his hard belly. "Only as before?" he queried with a
smirk, looking up at his lover's face. "Why not as if I have been denied
you for months? Why not as if I have only had dreams of you to sate my
cock, night after night? Weak dreams that left me anguished and lusting
after the bodies of every stallion I saw for how they made me remember
you?" His hand slid down from the centaur's belly to the smooth curve where
a man would have his cock. "Under your belly lies incarnated heaven,
Ataxion," he murmured. "I will soak your balls in my spit, and gag on your
member until I choke on your fluids, I promise. Just as I did before, and
will ever do."

His hands fell to his sides, and he stepped back. "But that is not enough,
my love," he mourned, looking down at himself, as if not sure what he was
seeing. "I want...*more*." He looked up at the centaur, and some trick of
the failing light made it seem like two bright points burned for a moment
in his eyes. "Ataxion, lover...I would be with you in full: our bodies made
one." One of his hands slid down to massage his own cock, and his eyes
closed briefly in desperate desire, and he groaned his words. "I wish to be
mounted by you, centaur, at last. Ridden as you would ride a mare. My ass
filled first with your beautiful dick -- and then your powerful colts." He
was panting at the very thought, a wet mark forming on his pants. "My
handsome stallion...mate with me."

Ataxion felt a flash of fear. "Nero...no, my love, no...we cannot. You know
this. I would injure you..." But the human reached up to silence him with a
finger, and those two odd points of light glittered in his green eyes once
more, making them seem almost golden.

"No longer," he whispered. "Beinir has touched me, Ataxion; I feel it
throughout my form. I am not as I was before. He did not merely heal
me...he has *changed* me." He kissed one of the centaur's nipples and
gripped it gently with his teeth, pulling back before releasing it, and
looked up at his lover with deep, dark eyes. Ataxion met his gaze, mind
spinning as pleasure filled his body. But the fear remained.

"We cannot risk it, my love," he said desperately. "I believe you that you
feel different...but what if you are mistaken? What if I hurt you? I am so
large, Nero...what if...?"

His words trailed off in confusion as Nero's hand took his and kissed it,
and held it as the human stepped backward until their contact broke at
their fingertips. Without a word, he began to undress: pulling his torn and
filthy tunic off first, and then untying the leather straps of his
breeches. They were thrown aside too in due course, and he stood proudly in
the falling gloom, naked as sin, and Ataxion's heart filled with fierce
delight at how glorious he was. His eyes swallowing the sight of his human
lover: the yellow hair that cascaded down his shoulders like a lion's mane,
and the smoothness of his chest and belly. Not a hair grew between his head
and his crotch, where a plump pink erection stood proudly forth from a bed
of curly golden locks.

Nero gave his lover a moment to enjoy the sight of him, before walking
closer and standing right below his face, looking up at him with a lusty
expression. "Don't fret, Ataxion," he whispered, stroking the centaur's
body with thoughtful fingers. "Don't fear." He leapt upward without
warning, and Ataxion gasped and caught the human under his legs. Nero
chuckled and settled his thighs into the hold, his hands resting on his
lover's shoulders. "Just feel." He pulled on Ataxion's shoulders to lift
himself, and the centaur immediately aided him, raising and then lowering
his form when the hands relaxed. "Yes, my love," the human murmured,
pressing his body against the centaur's and meeting his mouth for another
kiss. "Feel me." His tongue slipped in as his body rose and fell, his hard
cock rubbing along the centaur's form. Ataxion could feel his lover's
generous foreskin unfolding against his skin as his thick cock slid over
the muscles of the centaur's belly, leaking fragrant fluids whose scent
made Ataxion snort and blink away a rising sexual haze.

Nero's moans were soft and wonderful, and his body was warm and close. The
centaur closed his eyes and let them become his world. Their tongues danced
as Ataxion masturbated his lover against himself, hearing Nero's moans turn
to groans, and then breathy exhortations. The human's hands slid behind his
lover's shoulders and gripped, pulling them even closer together. "Faster,
my love," he gasped, and Ataxion's biceps bulged to make it happen. Nero's
foreskin had pulled back behind his head now; when the centaur looked down
between them, all he saw was a swollen purple glans, like a smaller version
of his own flare. Pre-cum covered his belly now, heated by the friction of
their passion.

"Make me cum, Ataxion," Nero begged, his eyes wide and glistening in the
evening light. Ataxion growled and pulled his lover higher; his cock now
slid between the twin mountains of his chest, smearing his fluids on the
thick chest hair, making the human cried out in pleasure as his head lifted
to the sky. Ataxion snarled and shoved his face forward, into the nape of
Nero's neck, kissing and even biting as he frotted his lover's body against
himself. The heat of the human's cock was fantastic, and the dribble of
pre-cum running down his skin only made him eager for more. He flexed his
chest to trap the cock between his pecs, and thrust his lover harder
against him. His smell was so strong now. He had to be close.

"Oh, *fuck...*Ataxion...I'm..." Nero groaned. His hands tightened on the
centaur's shoulders as his muscles tensed and convulsed, and with an
ecstatic scream, he orgasmed. Hot semen spurted up between the lovers and
hit Ataxion in the chin, and then the neck, before just squirting into his
chest hair, making it thick and wet. The smell was overpowering; Ataxion
didn't know if his lover's cum had always smelled so good, or if their
protracted separation had increased its potency. His head swirled, and his
breathing grew short and fast. He let Nero drop lower, and extended his
mouth for a kiss -- but was met with fingers instead, soaked in human
cum. He moaned and suckled on them, hearing his lover say "yes, yes, yes"
as he licked and swallowed the delicious gift. Nero scooped up some more,
giggling as he fed it to the centaur. He was still panting from the
strength of his orgasm, and his eyes were half-closed and lazy.

"You are beautiful, Ataxion," he murmured, and Ataxion kissed his lover's
lips with a cummy mouth.

"As are you," he replied with a smile.

Nero blushed and circled Ataxion's nipple with a cum-covered
fingertip. "You must trust me, Ataxion," he said firmly. "You could never
harm me. Not in that way; not anymore." Nero pressed both his hands to the
centaur stallion's chest and stroked them across his musculature, coating
them in the cum that still clung to his body hair and then licking his
fingers clean. "But Beinir asked a price for this, my love. We must care
for his servant."

"Isaac..."

Nero nodded. "The one who saved us both. Can you imagine? Filled by the
spirit of such a god...and then emptied without release." He sighed
wistfully. "How mighty a lust that would set alight within you, do you
think?" He leaned forward to lick a spot of errant semen that had formed a
droplet at the bottom of the centaur's chin; the warmth of his tongue
replaced by the cool of his spit. Ataxion shuddered with pleasure. "One
that could only be sated with the body of another, no doubt." His hand rose
to pull Ataxion's head down to him, and he ran the tip of his tongue around
the centaur's lips before pushing it inside. "Or...bodies," he husked, hot
breath floating across Ataxion's face, letting him smell the human's
intoxicating, masculine scent. "He came to our rescue, my love -- and now
we must come to his."

Ataxion lowered Nero to the ground at his command, and his lover flexed and
sighed. "As powerful as our needs are, my love...imagine the depth of
Isaac's." He smiled and reached out to take Ataxion's hand. "Did you feel
his eyes on you, too?"

"Yes," Ataxion said breathlessly. Those lusty eyes -- and that hard horse
cock. "He lusts with the force of a stallion. But..." He looked down at the
cum still decorating his chest. "Should we not give you some time, my
love?"

Nero grinned and pulled his lover in the direction of the inn. "Not
tonight, my love. Beinir shall provide."


----------

Isaac had made camp a fair distance from the inn this night. The human and
the centaur followed its flicker through the darkness. As they approached,
they could see Isaac sitting before it. He was nude: his legs were spread
wide, and his cock was fully dropped. It arced down from his sheath,
shining in the firelight and dripping copiously onto the ground below
him. His arms rested upon his knees, but as he heard them approach, he
looked up, and then rose. His face looked troubled, but his magnificent
body radiated the same casual carnality that it had the night before when
he had urged Ataxion to pleasure himself. There was no sign of the Beast.

The lovers paused at the edge of the firelight, and the three of them
stared at one another: horse, human, and centaur. Isaac noticed the cum
congealed in Ataxion's chest hair and smirked, running fingers through his
own. Then Nero stepped forward, head held high, and gestured Isaac
closer. The stallion seemed to float around the fire to come and stand
before them, and Ataxion stared in lust at his thick member, and the heavy
balls that accompanied it.

"How does it feel?" Nero asked softly, and Isaac seemed to know what he
meant. He took hold of his member, stroking along the shaft, one corner of
his lip rising as if the action pained him.

"It is unbearable," he whispered. "I feel him still inside me, in every
part. He filled me with himself, like a roaring fire of lust and cock and
sweat and climax...and left." He grasped the hair on his chest and made a
fist, looking as if he wanted to cry. "I do not know if I can ever be free
of the need -- not with a thousand males to satisfy me."

"Well, finding a thousand males will prove troublesome," Nero mused, "but
what of two to start with?" He stepped back to stand next to Ataxion,
rubbing a hand across his lover's body. "One with a body willing to receive
your cock -- and another with a prick greater than any you have seen on any
stallion." Isaac began panting as he listened to Nero's words, and
Ataxion's cock -- which had hung loosely from his sheath all the way back
to the camp -- quickly hardened at the sight of the horse becoming
erect. "A centaur made of might and stamina," Nero continued, "ready to
fuck for hours and empty his beautiful, heavy nuts within you...and a human
with an eager mouth, and horny hands, and a tight hole..."

"What of them?" Isaac said with a growl, and his golden eyes glowed
brightly, though he faced away from the fire. "They are all the same to the
god I serve. Tools of pleasure. Machines of lust. I shall fuck them, and
taste them, and ride them all. I shall join with them and we shall rut like
animals until we are sated."

"And what if you are not sated?" Nero interrupted. His hands dropped to
grasp his cock, squeezing the flesh to make it grow thick and red. He
turned to show off his ass to the others, rubbing a hand across its smooth
roundness. "What if *I* am not sated, after all the centaur pricks and
stallion cocks I desire?"

Ataxion stood in silence, watching the exchange. It was so formal, as if
they read the words from a holy book. Yet Nero's face was curled in a smirk
as he looked back at the stallion, and Isaac's lust was plainly painted on
his face. Their words sounded rote, but their bodies did not care.

"Then we are not done," Isaac said simply, "and we shall fuck some more."

Nero chuckled throatily and stood back up, stretched his arms out to pull
both Ataxion and Isaac closer. His lips met the centaur's first, and
Ataxion closed his eyes in delight, pushing his tongue deep, exploring
every crevice of the human's mouth. The hand at his neck played lazily with
a tousled curl of his hair, and the centaur lost himself to it all. He had
Nero back. The world had been set to rights. What else could ever matter?

That kiss broke, and Ataxion's opened his eyes to see Nero giving Isaac a
naughty smile. The human made as if to go in for a kiss...and then dropped
to his knees, and took a firm grip of the stallion's long cock. He looked
up, making sure both the centaur and the stallion were watching him, and
then opened his mouth wide, and slipped the flare into it, holding eye
contact with Ataxion. The centaur's cock thudded into his belly at the
sight, and Isaac groaned and swore, swaying a little as the first few
inches of his dick slid over the human's wet, red lips. Nero moved his body
back and forth, making the member slip in and out with wet, sucking,
smacking noises that shot down Ataxion's spine and made shivers run along
his equine half.

He'd never gotten to see this view before. Nero's mouth was wonderful --
peerless, even -- on his cock, but he could only listen to the sounds the
human made when underneath him and encourage him. Now he was looking into
his lover's eyes, watching his lips bunch up as they slid along a
stallion's firm, veiny member. He could see his mouth fill when he pressed
the flare into it, and the way his cheek bulged as the dick pressed into
it. He could match what he saw to what he remembered feeling, and it
inflamed his arousal tenfold. Nero would pleasure him this way tonight --
and more. The promise of what Nero had told him was possible sat at the
forefront of his mind. If he truly could mate with him as his own kind did,
slide his entire centaur prick inside him and hear him scream in pleasure,
not pain...

His cock slapped his belly once more, droplets of his pre-cum splashing
against his fetlocks.

Nero turned his head to be able to look between his lover's legs, and his
eyes grew ravenous. Ataxion belly-slapped again, and saw Nero press Isaac's
cock deeper into his mouth. Once more he slapped, and another inch of
horsecock slid inside his lover, matching his masturbation with oral
depth. The eroticism of it made the horse light-headed. He stumbled forward
a little, his chest right above Nero, and pulled Isaac's face roughly
toward him. The stallion's eyes had been closed -- his mouth ajar -- as he
luxuriated in the pleasure being given to him, but now they snapped open to
meet Ataxion's as the centaur's mouth pushed roughly into his. An equine
tongue slithered into Ataxion's mouth, and the centaur suckled upon it like
a penis. It was so long! It reached the very back of his mouth, tickled the
roof of his mouth, and sucked up the taste of him. One of Isaac's hands
gripped the centaur's hair and tugged it back, hard, making Ataxion cry out
and twist his head up, exposing his neck. The stallion's muzzle dived
forward, sniffing and lapping along the sun-baked skin, and the centaur's
moans joined those of the stallion.

The horse's hands were as busy as his mouth, sliding across the centaur's
skin as if it was finest porcelain -- then grasping his nipples and teasing
at them as he nibbled and licked at Ataxion's neck. Nero had done the same
before...but Nero was on his knees now, before a stallion made in the form
of a god, gagging on his cock and slurping up his fluids. Ataxion
belly-slapped and groaned in lust. When Isaac's mouth slid down to tuck
underneath the centaur's arm, he lifted it high and panted in delight as
the stallion explored his thick hair and squeezed the muscles that stood
proud about his body.

"Isaac," he said huskily, "we...we must halt. This feels too good...I
cannot...hold back..."

The stallion's tongue was lapping along the thick black hair that filled
the centaur's armpit, but his eyes flicked over to look at him. He stopped,
smirked, and took hold of a nipple again, tweaking it hard. The *slap* of
Ataxion's cock made him smile wider. "No halting, centaur," he said. "No
going slower. No pacing. Not tonight." He pulled at the nipple again and
Ataxion almost reared with the force of the sensations; it felt as if his
breast was shattering, and yet he wanted it to continue. "Beinir's lusts
are not mortal lusts," the horse told him. "Do not hold back. Let me see
what your beautiful cock can do, centaur. Perhaps it can even challenge the
mighty member of Beinir himself?"

His fingers worked the centaur's body like an instrument, and Ataxion's
thoughts were lost in a mist of carnal need. He tugged on his dick as hard
as he could, making the fleshy pole hammer against his body, loving the
feelings that surged through him. He could feel he was fully flared now,
and he looked down to see Nero below him. The human's eyes were shut,
entirely focused on the cock filling his gullet. His nostrils widened and
flattened again as he sucked in air, but the cock did not leave his
throat. The sight of that fat stallion penis being swallowed by his love
was magnificent. The belly-slapping grew faster, and Ataxion began panting.

"Nero..." he groaned, and the human's eyes flickered open to look up at him
through Isaac's arms as the horse leaned back, limbs outstretched, using
only his fingertips to work the centaur's painfully hard nipples. "I...I'm
going to..."

Nero's muffled moan was loud, urging the centaur on, and Ataxion squeezed
his eyes shut as his balls rose. They felt as if they'd swollen to twice
their usual size, throbbing in their sack like hot coals, needing climax to
be relieved. His wordless moans were hardly separated by breaths now, his
cock a solid tree-trunk underneath him, every muscle tense. A feeling was
growing, like his cock was filling up from the inside, his flesh buzzing
with the strength of it -- and then at last it overspilled, the dam wall
breaking, and Ataxion screamed into the night as his cock exploded under
him and huge, thick, musky ropes of semen gushed forth, splattering like
white honey across the back of Nero's head and covering the front of
Isaac's body. His muscles clenched again, like the jaws of a wolf, and a
second explosive spurt of cum soaked the two males under him. His hands
grabbed Isaac's wrists as if for support, squeezing and growling as his
body emptied itself with the force of a storm.

And Isaac's eyes watched his with fierce pleasure.

Ataxion released the horse when he was spent, panting and sweating as if he
had galloped for miles. Nero was laying on the ground beneath, one hand
rubbing across his cum-covered skin, the other fondling the flare that
bobbed above him. Semen still drooled from the end; the horse had cum as
well. Ataxion clicked his tongue to get Nero's attention, and raised his
eyebrows in silent query. Nero smiled lazily and giggled. "I swallowed all
of him," he said dreamily, and licked his lips. "He tastes of honey." He
lifted himself up on one arm to suckle again on the drooling horsecock as
the stallion and the centaur looked down at him. "Oh yes," he moaned,
wiping his mouth clean with a hand. "Better than any wine or water."

"Better than me?" Ataxion asked with a grin, and Nero raised a finger and
waggled it at him.

"Calumny does not suit you, my love," he chided. "This horse may be
delicious...but none could compare to you."

"Then pleasure me," the centaur growled, "and I shall replace his taste
with mine."

The cum-soaked human purred with pleasure at his lover's aggressive
tone. "Yes, my love," he said. He got to his knees and crawled under
Ataxion's belly, and the centaur cried out with savage glee when he felt
Nero's hands grasp his enormous shaft -- and again when a soft, wet mouth
lapped at the end, tasting the cum that still dribbled out before widening
to take in even more of the softened flare. The centaur was significantly
bigger than the horse, and Nero could not hope to fit him all...but he
could take enough.

Ataxion looked down to see his lover's rear protruding out from the curve
of his side, firm and inviting, undulating gently as his mouth and hands
did their work. He stared at the generous cheeks that hid his hole, and
tried to imagine penetrating him. He couldn't; he had no basis for
comparison. Growing up, he had mounted friends and spat his seed within
them, but a centaur was not a human -- and certainly not a god-touched
one. How would it feel to be inside Nero? How warm would he be -- how
tight? Would he beg for more of Ataxion's cock? Would he take all of it?

"Magnificent."

Isaac stood alongside his head, looking down at Nero's rear. The stallion
stroked his cock -- already hard again -- and flared his nostrils. "I have
never had a human," Ataxion told him. The thought thrilled him.

"And I have never had a centaur," the stallion replied. He gave Ataxion a
sidelong stare. "Have you been mounted, Ataxion?"

"Yes." When he had worked for a time as a farmhand. "I would stand in the
fields and wait for him. He did not care for mares -- but he enjoyed my
scent. With barely any encouragement, he would mount me and fill me." His
ass clenched at the memory, making his balls rise and his cock thicken;
Nero gave a muffled moan and slid his hand along his lover's shaft, making
the centaur grunt and his legs quiver. "It felt wonderful," he husked.

"Wonderful." Isaac got down on one knee and reached out with a hand to
stroke up the cleft of Nero's ass. "The barest word that describes
it. Exquisite, perfection...heaven." He pressed, and one of his fingers
slipped into the human, making Nero moan and arch his back. "See how ready
he is, Ataxion. Like a mare in heat, he lusts only for cock." The horse
fucked the human with his single finger, and Ataxion watched with eager
eyes. "He is hot within. A centaur stallion's seed will cool that fire--"

"Give him yours." Ataxion did not know where the words came from, but they
excited him. "Fuck him first. I wish to see."

Nero concurred; Ataxion felt his cock drop free of the human's eager mouth
as soon as he said the words. "Do it," Nero begged with need-soaked
words. "Fuck me, stallion, fuck me *hard*. Prepare me for this gorgeous fat
fucking centaur horsecock." He sighed. "I want your cocks, both of you, I
want them...I need them..." He stopped speaking only to shove Ataxion's
apple-sized prickhead back into his mouth, sucking and licking and fondling
the centaur's shaft and balls with his other outstretched hand. Ataxion had
to concentrate through the pleasure; he looked down to watch Isaac stroking
both his own member and the human's hole, and then shuffle forward to press
his thick cock to the entrance of Nero's body -- and force his way in.

Nero screamed in pleasure, and Ataxion felt his legs grow weak once more at
the sight of his lover's penetration. The stallion's cock stretched his
hole wide, a red ring around his flesh, and it slipped inside so easily. As
if he had been made for this. And the *sounds...*the slurp of his lover's
body against the stallion's cockflesh, as if dragging it deeper into
itself. The snorts and whinnies of the stallion as he pushed deeper. The
choked, ecstatic noises from Nero himself as he received what he so
desperately wanted. Ataxion wanted to force Isaac aside and bellow his lust
and drive his cock just as deep into his lover -- and deeper yet. *Soon.*

But for now...

He stared raptly at the stallion cock fucking Nero, and the male driving
it. His muscles were taut and his teeth locked in a snarl of pleasure; he
looked tremendous. Ataxion's fingers rose to his own nipples, teasing them
as he looked on. His eyes dropped to the stallion's tail, below which firm
buttocks clenched as he pounded his prick in and out of Nero. Ataxion's
eyes glittered. That would be another prize for sure: to mount this
stallion and make him forever remember Ataxion. *Soon.*

The fucking continued as the centaur fantasised. Nero had stretched his jaw
to breaking point to fit as much of Ataxion within his mouth as he could;
his tongue was probing at his piss-hole and his hands were squeezing around
the flare. Ataxion's thoughts could no longer distract him from the rising
pleasure, and he began to breathe more heavily, and then pant. He watched
the stallion fucking his lover's well-loosened hole, and imagined it was
him. His pants turned to moans. His balls felt as though they'd not yet
been drained at all, and began to ache and clench. "Close, Isaac," he said
breathlessly. Nero's fingers were darting about his cock like a shuttle on
a loom; the human knew his body so well. "I want to...see you fill him..."

Isaac laughed with delight. "As you wish, stallion," he panted. He placed
his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, touching Nero with only his
cock and the top of his hefty balls as they swung like lead weights under
him, the *smack* of their impacts punctuating the fuck. "He is sweet,
Ataxion!" the horse cried. "Sweet, and warm, and needy...oh, you shall
enjoy mating with him." His hips started to move more irregularly; slower,
but harder. "And my seed shall be in him to ease your passage, great
stallion. My colts will welcome yours. He shall be
very...thoroughly...*bred!"*

On the last word his hands came down again, slamming into Nero's hips and
freezing, cock-deep in his ass, muscles twitching and balls
pumping. Ataxion could see them pulsing, could imagine the horse's hot seed
coursing up through his long cock and bursting into his lover, thick and
virile and effortlessly masculine...

He screamed when he orgasmed again. Nero's mouth did not move from his
cock, and he felt his lover's mouth filled to overflowing with the very
first blast. His own hot seed swirled against the sensitive flesh of his
flare -- and was gone. The second eruption did the same, and the
third. Ataxion gaped in awe -- his mind and body shimmering with waves of
pleasure -- as his lover swallowed every last drop of his production. He
could scarce have had a moment to take a breath! Ten, eleven, twelve
shattering bursts of glory, making him shudder and moan and stare in lust
at the sight of Isaac's cock in Nero's ass and wish it was there he was
pumping himself dry, wishing he was breeding his lover deep and full.

Cool air washed over his prick eventually, when Nero let it fall from his
lips with a gulp and a cough. Isaac remained inside the human, staring at
the centaur's briefly-spent cock with naked hunger. The lusts knew no rest
tonight; Ataxion could already -- impossibly -- feel himself stirring yet
again. And he would not want any longer.

"Withdraw," he commanded Isaac, and the horse did, with a slurp and a wash
of semen onto the thirsty ground below. Nero's ass was red and raw, but it
pulsed and winked enticingly at the human's command, and he chuckled
throatily.

"Do you enjoy what you see, my love?" he teased. "Are you ready to claim
me? Will you breed me as your mare at last?"

A belly-slap of his freshly-hardened cock was the only response Ataxion
could think of, but it was more than enough. Nero raised his rump into the
air, and the centaur felt a red heat wash over him at the sight. A primal
need to mate with an offered hole...the one he'd resisted all the time they
had been a pair. It was never to be, thanks to who they were, and he had
always known that. It had not troubled him: he did not need it, either to
love Nero or to be satisfied by him.

But that did not mean he had not desired it.

He stepped over his lover and heard him sigh as he sensed the mass of the
centaur above him. His cock was too hard, though; he could not lower it
enough to find its mark. He looked across in frustration at the stallion,
standing nude and hard and dripping to one side, and Isaac smiled and
stepped up to his side.

"Let me aid you, stallion," the horse murmured. His hand stroked along
Ataxion's shoulder and down his side. "You will sate your cock with
him...but that is only part of your needs." He leaned in to nibble a
nipple. "Let me mount *you*, stallion, as you mount your mate. I wish to
taste of you as I have him...and then you may do with me as you wish." He
turned to the side and lifted his tail, revealing a flawless pucker, a rich
brown colour, fat, and deep. "It has tasted many males, Ataxion," he
tempted. "I have even been mounted by the great black stallion of
Beinir...but never by a centaur."

Ataxion was struggling to pay attention. He could feel the heat coming off
Nero below him -- could *smell* him. He smelled unbred; unfilled by centaur
dick. He was surely in rut, if humans had such a thing. He needed his
lover's cock. "Yes," he said thickly to the horse. He didn't care. He
wanted it all -- as long as he got this.

Isaac slipped under him and Ataxion felt the horse's hands upon him,
wrestling the firm cock down until it kissed a wet, warm spot. Ataxion
gasped and pushed, stepping forward with one leg; his flare began to push
into the human, and Nero's gabbled words-- "oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, my
love..." -- made it all but impossible to resist thrusting himself fully
within him. Only the smallest remaining doubt controlled the fires of his
need. *What if, what if...?*

But Nero had read his mind. "No, Ataxion," he said gently. "No more
worries. Just...feel." He pushed back against the bulk of sexual flesh
poised to impale him. "Feel my body. Feel my *need*. Feel me wrapped around
your beautiful dick, my love. Feel me squirm and squeal and do my best to
make you fuck me deeper." He moaned. "Fuck me, Ataxion. Don't make me wait
longer. Fuck my brains out, you stud!"

Ataxion bellowed, and thrust, and filled him.

The stallion's cock, though smaller than his own, had done its job: the
centaur's enormous member slipped in deep on the first thrust, and deeper
on the second. His lover's body gripped it like a mother clutching her
child, fighting when he with withdrew, and reopening like a flower on the
return. Nero's guttural noises made it sound like it was a horny animal
impaled on the centaur's dick: one that whimpered with pleasure and panted
"don't stop" if he paused for even a moment. He tried not to; it felt too
good. Nero's body was made of honey and chocolate, and it flowed around his
shaft perfectly. The heat of him made his cockflesh tingle, and his flare
grew fatter every time his lover clenched his muscles around it to keep it
inside him.

Something probed under his tail, and pushed inward, spreading him open and
igniting pleasure all along his passage. He groaned and swung his head
ahead to see Isaac -- atop some stone or log -- with his crotch pressed to
the centaur's tailhole, mouth hanging loose and eyes unfocused. "You are so
tight, stallion," he puffed, thrusting passionately. Ataxion aligned his
own thrusts to ensure that when he pulled out of Nero, the horse was
pushing in; the heavy impact of his generous balls against the centaur's
taint was incredible.

But nothing could match Nero. The human's sounds, the smell of his sweat
and his pre-cum and his lust, the heat of his innermost parts, the way he
pushed back against his lover even though the centaur's sheath was already
pressing against him, marking his entire member as within the transformed
man...Ataxion's love for him defied belief. He was truly perfect -- an
ideal match for the centaur's needs and desires. His cock throbbed as it
slid in and out of him with warm, wet noises, coated in the semen that
Isaac had left inside for him; his own balls ached to empty their load for
a third time that night.

His rear was a ring of pleasure that contracted and expanded in time with
the hard fuck the horse was giving him; his member reached deep and touched
parts of the centaur that made him want to whinny like a breeding
stallion. Every part of him glowed with pleasure, and he let his mind float
away into it, happy to remain here forever. Fucking, and being fucked: the
human, the centaur, and the horse. His balls had become tiny suns in their
low sack; they would produce forever. He would simply breed Nero, over and
over, until the river ran with his cum instead of with water, and they were
lost to time and everything, everything except one another melted away like
fog in the morning light.

Then Isaac moved, and hit some new spot within the centaur, and his world
contracted to a singular point of pleasure at the end of his dick, deep
inside his lover.

Ataxion's orgasmic yell might have woken half the village. His legs locked
tight: for the best, since he forgot how to use them. His hands became
claws, and his tail flagged as high as it would go as his lungs emptied
into the night and his balls emptied into Nero. The force of it was so
great, he almost cried; if his balls had been suns before, now they were
exploding. Nero was whimpering wordlessly, no doubt able to feel each one
of the powerful blasts: each one greater than the entirety of what the
stallion had pumped into him earlier. Ataxion felt his lover's hole widen
around his cock, and cum spray forth, unable to find space within. And
behind, a smaller eruption as the stallion cock trapped inside his
powerfully spasming body was brought to climax: the warm wetness felt
sublime, and the fat flare doubly so, pressing hard against a point inside
him that seemed manufactured of pure pleasure.

He drifted down from the celestial heights of his orgasm in time. The
mundane returned: water rippling along the river, the wind in his hair, a
warm, soft mouth cleaning his cock -- soft at last, it seemed. Isaac was
still inside him, stroking his back and softly fucking him still, though he
had certainly cum. Isaac looked back at him, and the horse smiled in
return. He stepped back, withdrawing his long cock, and walked around to
the centaur's front, his wet member slapping against his legs with each
step most attractively.

Nero emerged from under the centaur too, coming to stand chest-to-chest
with him, looking up into his face with adoration. "That was amazing, my
love," he said, and the centaur lowered his face to kiss him. He could
taste his semen on his lover's lips.

"You are incredible," he said.

Nero caught one of the centaur's braid on a hand. "Your cock is
incredible." Then he turned to smirk at Isaac. "As is yours."

Isaac was smiling, but he seemed confused. "Why do you speak as if it is
over?" he asked.

Ataxion blinked. "I...what do you mean?"

Isaac blinked in surprise. "Oh...oh!" He laughed and walked closer, to cup
Ataxion's face in one hand and look down at Nero. "My dears, my sweet
things -- the night has barely begun." His eyes burned once more, twin
beacons to a lusty place. "Beinir is not so easily sated. Not at all." He
bent down before Ataxion, and raised his tail, revealing his pristine anus;
it winked at the human and the centaur, and the horse looked back over his
shoulder at them. "And neither am I."

They filled the long night with their lusts. Ataxion mounted Isaac as the
horse ate out the human before him, his long and eager tongue lapping up
the remains that their cocks had left inside him. Isaac crawled under the
centaur and soaked his balls in spit, while Nero lapped at his lover's hole
and then mounted him as Isaac had, thrusting for barely a minute before
climaxing, to his great surprise. "You are too tight, my love," he panted,
"too warm, too wonderful." They kissed, and kissed some more.

Later, the Beast returned from his evening jaunt and brought with him his
own lusts. Nero and Ataxion watched in awe as the stallion was mounted by
his wolf, the Beast's enormous crimson knot -- as fat as Ataxion's whole
flare -- pounding massively into the stallion as he moaned and begged for
more. And more he received, from both of the other males -- and they in
turn. The moon rose and fell, and still they fucked. There was no end to
their stamina on this night, and they poured it all into carnality, until
sheer physical exhaustion claimed them, and they passed into sleep in a
pool of limbs and cum and dicks.

Well and truly sated.


----------

The following day, they took their leave of one another, standing outside
of the inn where Ataxion had first met the stallion. The Beast had melted
away once again, and only the three of them remained. Nero sat astride his
lover, dressed in fresh clothing; he looked proudly down on them, like a
little prince.

"My friends." Isaac took their hands in his, holding them tight. He
grinned, meeting their eyes in turn, squinting in the bright sunlight. "You
are servants of Beinir in truth, if not in name. Bless you."

"And thank you, Isaac," Ataxion said for what felt like the tenth time that
morning. He did not feel he could say it enough. Every time Nero shifted on
his back, his weight reminded him that they were together again, and he
remembered who had saved them. "Thank you, and your god. You have given us
a gift we cannot ever repay."

Isaac smiled and patted Ataxion's chest. "You can repay it, centaur, and it
will not be a hardship." He grinned. "Fuck one another -- hard, and
often. Fill your lives with love and lust. Return home, and resume your
lives." He gripped their hands. "That is all you need do."

A small cough interrupted them. The fox from the inn stood there, hands
clutched to his breast, trying not to look at them. "Um, sir -- masters,"
he said. "Do, um...would you be needing...a room..." He trailed off into
breathless disbelief as Isaac released the lovers' hands and sauntered
closer. The horse had not elected to put on his clothes after waking; his
nudity shone in the daylight, muscled and handsome and hung, like a statue
of a god brought to life.

The young male's eyes were saucers, locked to the incredible length of
horsecock swaying between the stallion's legs as he approached, only
looking up when Isaac reached him. The stallion smiled, and took the fox's
paw, and placed it upon his long member; Ataxion would have sworn the young
male painted his breeches white in that moment. But to his credit, he did
not squander the opportunity: his paw gripped and did not let go, and
Isaac's mellifluous voice began to speak to him.

"Have you heard, my friend, of Beinir?" The fox's head-shake was barely
visible; his mouth hung open in amazement at what was happening. Isaac
patted him on the back, then looked up at Nero and Ataxion, and gave them a
final farewell wink. "Well, then," he said jovially. "I feel a room would
not go amiss. I think I shall remain here for a few days more. But tell me
-- where in this establishment is *your* room...?"

The fox and the stallion wandered away, heading indoors, and the centaur
and his lover chuckled and exchanged ribald ideas for what the fox was
likely to be in for as they turned and headed for the bridge that crossed
the river, back into town.  Nero's arms reached around to hug him as he
walked, and Ataxion placed a hand atop his lover's own as he clopped
along. The sun was bright in a cloudless sky; the day would be a warm one.

"How far from home are we?" the human asked, rocking gently back and forth
on top of his lover's back.

"Many months," the centaur admitted. "Perhaps half a year."

"So far!" the human marvelled. "I wonder if I should even recall it when we
finally arrive."

"It does not matter," Ataxion assured him. His hooves clicked against the
stones of the bridge, and he nodded at a passing farmer. "We do not need to
remember how it was. We can begin anew." But he paused when Nero pulled at
his braids, and looked back curiously. His lover's green eyes glittered in
the day's light.

"Then why begin again where it ended before?" the human asked. "Why not
begin...there!" He pointed out into the distance, the very opposite
direction from where their home lay, and Ataxion followed his hand.

"What is there?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know!" Nero laughed and grasped the centaur's shoulders, kissing
along his neck and then his ear with soft lips. "I only know what *shall*
be there," he whispered.

"And what is that, my love?"

Nero sighed and nuzzled his face into the centaur's neck. "You and I, my
stallion."

With a whoop, Ataxion leapt forward, and together they galloped down the
road towards the place where the earth met the sky.