A Centaur's Love 02

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It didn't take him long to reach the small clearing that he currently called home. A small longhouse sat in the middle of it, the smoking remains of a fire sitting not too far away. He entered through a crude wooden door, which he had built after a particularly strong storm had blown off the last one. He was no carpenter, but it was enough.

He laid her down her down on the plush furs that functioned as a resting place, careful as he did so. She shifted, offering a groan, but stayed asleep. He knelt by her, his narrow gaze watching her as she slept peacefully. Her skin was fair, but covered in small freckles. Two fingers dragged across her skin, in awe at the softness of her cheeks.

They trailed down to her chin, his thumb brushing over her smooth jawline and down her neck, stopping just short of her breasts. He lingered for a moment, but pulled away. He stood and trotted out of the longhouse, returning a few minutes later with a canister of water, a rag, and a blade in hand. He knelt by her once more, setting down everything but the blade. He dug his fingers under the top of her dress to pull it away from her skin. Carefully, so as not to injure her further, he cut down the length of her front, leaving her exposed.

Her breasts were small, but round and firm. Her waist was thin, nearly small enough to where he could wrap both hands around her waist and his fingertips might meet. While she was a magnificent sight to behold, he bathed her front without malice. It was true that centaurs would often take unsuspecting maidens for themselves, but there was no glory in taking an unconscious woman.

Once he was satisfied her front was clean, he carefully rolled her onto her stomach, only receiving a few whimpers in protest. He froze at the sight of five, bright red and angry looking lashes across her back, accompanied by scars similar in shape. They were ugly, and painful looking.

"What in the gods...?" he murmured to himself, taken aback. What had she done to earn such treatment? It was disgraceful for any centaurian man to lay a hand on a woman in such a way.

Staring at her wounds, his nostrils flared. He stood and retrieved a mortar full of herbs that was stored on the shelf, grounding it down and mixing it into a poultice. Judging by her wounds, he would need to treat them quickly before they worsened.

With the herbs ground into a fine poultice, he worked on cleaning out the wounds as best he could. She gave a few pained groans and whimpers here and there, but she stayed asleep. She must have been exhausted, and by the looks of it, she had every right to be.

With her wounds cleaned of all the dirt and grime that had accumulated, he gently pasted on the poultice, covering it with leaves. He covered her with a fur, leaving her to rest.

A day passed and she did not awaken, much to his agitation. Though he wasn't overly fond of strange humans, he was by no means praying for her death or suffering. She was young, probably just a few years into adulthood. With how puny she was, he highly doubted she had ever done anything harmful enough to deserve death, or the gruesome lashes on her back. The thought made his nostrils flare, not for the first time that day.

Who would harm such a defenseless girl? Her arms were like twigs, her legs not much stronger. Unless she was some sort of master fighter, which he highly doubted, there was little chance she was much a physical threat to anyone.

As much as he seemed to enjoy stewing over her, he couldn't stay inside and watch her sleep all day. He had responsibilities to tend to. It was his duty to patrol this end of the forest and make sure no humans where getting too close, though that was a rare occurrence. It was what he'd been doing when she'd stumbled into him.

Every few hours he returned to the longhouse to check on her, changing the bandages as he did. She slept soundly, her laborious breathing becoming much more relaxed as the hours passed. The swelling of her wounds was going down, which was a good sign. With any luck, they would heal quickly.

Later that night, as he rested across the room, she stirred. His heart jumped, thinking she was close to waking, but she soon fell back into a peaceful rest. He gave a sigh and settled back onto the ground. He wasn't even sure what he would do with her when she did wake. She looked harmless, but she could very well pose a threat to the herd. If he had felt that she was even an inkling of a threat, he wouldn't be able to let her go.

She didn't wake the next morning, either. So he made the decision to travel back to where he had found her, to see if there was any sign, any clue of where she had come from. He searched the clearing, and the surrounding woods, but found nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn't a wholly wasted trip, however, seeing as he had managed to catch a couple of rabbits.

He headed back to camp and started a fire. He skinned the rabbits, hoisting them on to a spit over the flame to cook.

Lena woke slowly, her deep blue eyes slowly flickering open. She let out a groan and buried her face in the thick furs beneath her. Wait... fur? Her blankets weren't made out of fur. She sat up, her muscles and wounds aching with protest. She eyed the material before her gaze fell elsewhere. She scrambled into a seating position, her gaze searching the... house? If she could call it that... It was rather small, half the size of the room she'd been put in at the Redmane estate, and made of wood, like nothing she had ever seen before.

She thought back to what she last remembered. She'd been running, fleeing from her fiancé... She'd run into a...a-... She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. A centaur? But they were just myth! She'd been exhausted after nearly three days of running. It just had to be a vision of some sort. Centaurs weren't real! Just children's stories told by her grandmother to keep naughty young ones in line.

A wave of cool air washed over her, sending a chill down her spine. She covered her chest with her arms. It was then she realized that she was naked. A spark of fear raced through her chest, eyes widening. If centaurs weren't real, then who stripped her? Had he...? She gulped nervously at the thought.

She didn't feel any discomfort, not like how she did after Adrian... The thought sent a wave a relief through her. Her maidenhead was still intact then. Adrian had only liked to use her ass, wishing to save her virginity for their wedding night. The Redmanes took their brides in front of the wedding party, which surely would have been humiliating, and painful.

She heard hooves nearing and she scrambled to lay back under the furs. Forcing her eyes shut, she pretended to sleep with her face buried in the furs.

The door opened and she tried to calm her racing heart, forcing her lungs to slow. Heavy steps padded in her direction, sending vibrations through the dirt floor. She gulped as he hovered overhead, trying to keep still.

He knelt beside her, a huff flaring from his chest. He slowly pulled the furs off her back and she had to bite her lip from crying out. He hadn't taken her yet, but what if it-... this monster changed his mind? There was no way she could fight of a centaur, of all creatures!

She mentally readied herself to bolt when she felt cool air brush against her wounds, a sticky covering being pulled off. He leaned in close, the warmth of his breath hitting her back as he inspected her.

He muttered something about needing more poultice before recovering her with the blanket and backing away. She heard the door shut from behind her and looked up a moment later with furrowed brows.

Wait, it-... he had been taking care of her wounds? The thought was baffling. Centaurs were supposed to be vile, lustful creatures interested in nothing more than raping young maidens. But he... he had taken her to his home and cared for her. He very well could have been waiting for her to awaken, but she didn't think so. The way he touched her wounds had been so tender, gentle even. It was nothing like how Adrian liked to touch her.

But still, she didn't want to risk finding out. She had to escape while she could. Where she would go, she had little idea, but anywhere was better than going back to her fiancé. She grimaced at the thought. She waited a few minutes until after he had left before standing up to search the room for her dress. She frowned when she caught no sight of it and instead chose to wrap a fur around herself.

She walked to the door, gentle pushing it open to peek outside. When she caught no sight of him, she gingerly stepped out, letting the door close softly shut behind her. Her head swiveled in either direction, still no sight of him. She went to turn the corner of the longhouse, picking a random direction in which to walk, and found herself face-to-face, or rather, face-to-chest, with the centaur.

She let out a yelp of surprise, tumbling back on her rear. The fur fell away from her, exposing her for the briefest of moments before she managed to wrap it tightly around her. She looked up at him with wide, deep blue eyes, taking in the sight before her.

He was huge, surely taller than any man. Hard muscle rippled underneath his skin, surely resulting from hours of manual labor. His dark hair was pulled halfway pulled back to keep it out of his face. He inspected her with hard green eyes before softening.

"Hello," he said, breaking the silence.