Chapter Text
He looked like a dead man walking. All skin and bones leaving little to the imagination. He may have been skinny, with ribs, spine, and hips prominent, but what stood out the most to me were the scars. Scars all over his body, and even in the dim crowded area of the bidding room, I could see old silvery scars long ago healed and new, oozing wounds that crisscrossed his chest, back, and legs obviously caused by whippings. The sound of his hooves clicking on the cement floor filled the room as the seller, seated astride his back, pulled on the reins connected to the horse bridle in his mouth. I winced along with him as the metal pieces of the bit rubbed together and cut along his tongue and inner cheek allowing for blood to flow freely from his agape mouth. Though he was almost completely covered in scars his midnight black coat gleamed in an almost healthy fashion, but I knew it was most likely sweat mixed with blood.
I stood amidst the large crowd, wondering how I got pulled into this when I just came to buy a horse, when the seller, a short, sweaty man with a sad excuse for a comb over, started yelling about prices for the “beast”. The men and women around me began asking questions amongst themselves about how, since he was already so skinny, and practically dead already, he would get any work done for them.
“People it may not look like much, but I took it from a wild herd running through these very mountains. We all know how strong the beasts are when you get them going!” The crowd’s murmurings still sounded a bit distrusting but some began yelling out prices, “one hundred!”, “five hundred!” The seller’s face didn’t look pleased in the slightest about the low numbers and he was about to stop the bidding all together when suddenly. . .
“Fifty thousand!” The words were out of my mouth before I had any time to think. My hand was shoved into the air as high as my five feet nine inches would allow. The room fell completely silent save for the distant neighing of horses and yelling from outside. My hand slowly lowered and covered my mouth in shock. I had just bought myself a centaur.
The seller looked at me in shock before he shook himself out of his stupor, “F-fifty thousand going once, twice, sold! To the young fellow cowering in the back!” I thought it was over, I had just used my college funds to save a centaur, what was my dad going to say? Suddenly one of the centaur’s back legs gave out making him stumble and jostle the seller, I hadn’t realized before but in the seller’s free hand was a rolled up whip that he used against the centaur’s flank making what little muscle he had clench and a fresh gush of blood fall to the floor with a loud splat.
Correction, I just bought a mentally and physically abused centaur.
With my college money.
Without my dad knowing. . .
What am I going to do?
***
I was still numb after everything. After I had been pushed to the front of the room through sweaty bodies, some glaring and some looking at me with suppressed amusement, probably about my still shocked face. After my credit card had been taken from my hand, swiped through a reader (who knew centaur bidders had credit card machines?) before shoving it back in my hands with a clammy pat on the back. After the filthy, torn up reins were pressed into my palm with a final “train him good, boy” from the seller, I was finally on my way.
I shied away as soon as I walked out of the tent, I hadn’t realized how dark it was inside until the glaring of the sun off of the pavement nearly blinded me. I looked over my shoulder to the centaur, trying to gage his reaction to the bright light and felt a knot form in my throat. His eyes were darting all around, taking in all the open space and had a strange glimmer showing behind the dead. He took great, albeit silent, breaths taking in the smell of fried foods, bar-b-que, and the overwhelming smell of horse.
I stand there a few minutes longer letting him get used to the barrage on his senses before lightly tugging on the reins to get him to follow me. I would have preferred to take the bridle off completely, I hated how it made him look like a common animal, but with so many people around watching both of us, I had to keep up appearances. Being a pariah in world of hate made it difficult to live normally sometimes.
Taking a less congested pathway, I had the centaur follow me to my truck that I had parked near the entrance of the auction area, for the most part ignoring the murmured slurs and sounds of spitting trailing behind us. Nothing too bad happened and I thought we were going to get to the truck unscathed with my anger still hidden behind a calm facade when suddenly the centaur jerked forward with an almost silent grunt of pain. Twisting around I see a young teen lifting his hand off of the fresh wound on the centaur’s flank leaving it quivering.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” I practically yelled into the kid’s smiling face hearing his friends laughing a few feet away. His grin slowly faded and a look of confusion takes over, “what’re you getting all bent out of shape for? It’s a monster, they don’t feel pain.” I almost smacked the kid over the head.
“Would you do what you just did to a dog lying on the side of the road that was all cut up and bleeding?”
“No! If I did that then I’d be charged with some fine. Plus I have a dog at home and I’d never hit her!”
“Exactly. Then why would you hit him?” The kid’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he turned and ran back to his friends. Shaking my head in revulsion I turned and started walking towards my truck again. I just wanted to get home and relax.
Walking back, my pace may have been a bit faster than it needed to be, especially with the condition the centaur was in. I tried to slow down but the want to be home won out. The reins in my hand jerk periodically with the centaur’s uneven steps due to the slap against his flank and the condition his hooves were in. Untrimmed and almost getting to the point where they curled over themselves. The truck was finally in sight when I remembered that the trailer that I had brought was not fit to accommodate any centaur’s exceeding height.
“Crap, I forgot that I came here for a horse. . . Um, I’m going to need you to either duck down or kneel on the ground. I didn’t come here planning on bringing you home.” I chuckled nervously and scratched the back of my head before looking over my shoulder to see the centaur eyeing the trailer with an almost disgusted curl to his lip. So he does have emotion. I shift my body to try to see his face better to see if he understood. For a moment his eyes meet mine before he lowered his head with a subtle nod. I shook my head, those eyes were beautiful, an almost mesmerizing storm of greens, blues, and gold. Eyes that showed an unbroken spirit behind a cover of constraint. Without my noticing, he had stepped into the back of the open trailer, having to duck or else hit his head on the roof, before kneeling with a quiet sigh of relief.
His face was slightly turned away from mine but I could still see the red marks around his mouth from the bit chafing against his skin. My hands reached forward hesitantly, wanting to take off the harness strapped around his head, but as soon as my hands got anywhere near his face his torso violently flinched back. I froze, my hands still slightly outstretched towards the centaur. His body tensed even more as I watched, as if expecting me to hit him. Well, with what he’d been through, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was what would have normally happened. I brought my hands back towards my body, raised in a show of surrender.
“Okay, I won’t touch you, but I really do hate how that harness makes you look. Either I can take it off or you can it doesn’t matter.” He made no move to take the bridle off, but hadn’t given me any sort of permission to do so either. I sighed and put my hand on the door of the trailer. Trust is something that is gained over time. I need to remember that.
I’m about to close the door when a sudden gurgling fills the air. My head jerks toward where the centaur lays on the metal of the trailer. He face is still smooth except for the almost nonexistent tightening around his mouth.
“Are you hungry?” He doesn’t answer, he just lowers his head until the mop of black hair on his head covers his face. I smile at the red tips of his ears that peek through and finish closing the door.
My feet bring me back to where the auction was being held. Steering away from the dark tent I head towards a funnel cake stand and order two, both with powdered sugar. I jog back to the truck and open the driver side door placing one on the seat for myself before walking to the back of the truck again.
I don’t say anything as I open the trailer door again and gently place the cake on the ground in front of the centaur.
“Here, I’m sure you haven’t eaten in awhile.” I close the door a final time before walking back to the open door of my truck. Maybe buying him wasn’t such a bad idea.