#centaur!shiro

Inspired by this beautiful piece of art by @tane-p

Note: The Ranch renames the centaurs they capture. Part of breaking down their identities. I’m thinking maybe one or two more parts to this story. Maybe more if I get a real wild hare.

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He gets left out to his hunger and thirst twice more. Once, because his flanks aren’t for the grubby ranch hands to pet, and once, because he literally bit the hand that fed him. He’s not an animal, anyone who tries to give him apple slices as treats as if he is one deserves what’s coming to them. It’s after a week of not giving them a reason to withhold food and water, that he is declared tamed enough to be moved from his post to the stable where they keep the other centaurs.

He hasn’t seen any of his own kind up close since his capture. Occasionally he’ll see somebody being rushed from one place in the ranch to another off in the distance, but they’ve been keeping him isolated. Maybe they were worried he’d spread unrest. Despite how they treat them as laborers, pets, or vehicles for entertainment, the humans in charge of breaking them, seem to be very aware of how dangerous they can be if they put their minds to it.

One of the ranch hands leads him to one of a the few big stables he’s been able to see from the post. The relief from the noon day sun stepping inside provides is immediately counteracted by the smell of too many people cooped up in too small of a place. Tiny stalls line the walls of the room he’s taken into. Each one just barely big enough for a full grown centaur to turn around in. Tall sturdy gates with sharp points prevent anyone that doesn’t want to gut themselves from clambering out, and floor to ceiling walls on either side seem more to prevent fraternization than to grant the occupants any kind of privacy.

Curious eyes follow him as he’s led by. Most of the stalls are empty at this time of day for various reasons, but those that aren’t, want to get a good look at the new guy. Keith is just as curious about them. One of the things he can’t help noticing is that most don’t have their arms tied back in either ropes like himself or the fancier leather holders he knows the humans prefer they wear. The ranch hand sees him staring, “When we can trust you. You’ll be allowed to stay in your stall without a lead too,” He says. Keith snorts. He’ll escape long before they get to that point.

The stall they stop at is just as small as the rest. Keith briefly consider stomping with his front hooves and making a run for it, but he knows he’d never be able to make it out from this deep in the Ranch in broad daylight without getting spotted and caught again. He reluctantly enters the stall, and his lead is tied off to a bar that looks specially made for this exact purpose. He’s pissed, when he realizes that the hand tied it too short for him to make full use of the already limited space provided. Keith’s forced to stand right beside the gate, without enough slack to even turn around. Bastard.

-

“Keith?” Keith shakes awake, blinking blearily. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, “Is that you?”

He looks up and is greeted by a sight he’s been dreaming about for a year, “Shiro!” Keith stumbles to his feet, kicking and bumping the stall walls in his haste to get up.

“Woah there, buddy. Calm down, it’s okay,” Keith hears Shiro’s words, but he can’t. Yanking roughly at the ropes binding his arms, hooves clacking on the hard floor, as he all but dances in place. Shiro’s here, after all this time. Alive on the other side of the gate, and all he wants to do is hug him tight and never let go. A big hand cups the back of his head and drags him forward, until his nose is buried into Shiro’s chest, “Hey now, slow down for me,” Shiro says softly.

Keith takes a shuddery breath and finally manages to hold himself still, “You’re okay,” He whispers, pressing into the other body. Shiro has always been bigger than him, half a hand at the withers and even more in the upper body leaves Keith at about eye level with Shiro’s pecs.

There is a humorless laugh from above him, “I guess, for some definitions of the word,” Keith pulls against the hand holding him until he’s allowed to lean back and look up. He actually processes something beyond the fact that it’s Shiro looking down at him this time. There is a shock of white in Shiro’s formerly all black head hair, a nasty looking scar bisecting his nose, and a sad look in his grey eyes that doesn’t belong there. What have they done to him?

Shiro opens his mouth to says something, but is cut off by another voice, “You know this trouble maker, Champion?” They both turn to look down at the unwelcome interrupter. Another one of the ranch hands, just as unrecognizable to him as the rest.

“He’s a friend,” Shiro says. They’re more than that, have been for a long time, but he’s fine with not sharing that with this human. None of his business what Keith and Shiro are to each other.

The human scowls at Keith, “You should pick better friends. This one’s about one step away from being more trouble than he’s worth.” Keith scowls back at that, and pushes closer to Shiro, the gate spikes dig into his stomach but he ignores them. If he’s so much trouble, maybe they should just set him free. He didn’t ask to be captured, “Come on, enough dallying, you have places to be.”

Shiro looks between the hand and Keith, “Can I just have a minute more? We haven’t seen each other in a long time.” Shiro asks. Keith can’t help the way his back hoof stomps at that. The bigger stallion shouldn’t have to ask permission to stay with him like some sort of colt, especially not from a human.

“No. Now move, before we mark that one down as a bad influence too.” Shiro gives Keith’s neck a squeeze, but backs away to follow the human as told.

“Shiro?” Keith calls after him, but the other stallion doesn’t look back.

It’s not until the sound of Shiro’s hooves on the hard ground have faded that Keith realizes something glaringly obvious. Shiro’s missing an arm.

Inspired by @tane-p centaur Keith fanart.

Note: Don’t judge Shiro too harshly. He’s had a very rough year.

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They walk silently side by side, Shiro’s hand resting on Keith’s shoulder, until they are far enough from the watching ranch hands to not be in easy earshot. Shiro stops and stares off into the distance. Keith can’t tell what he’s thinking, but from the way his tail is swishing he’s agitated. Keith leans into his side. He feels more than hears the sigh, “They tell me you kicked one of the workers yesterday. Apparently, you were upset that you couldn’t see me?” Shiro says softly, words meant only for his ears.

“He wouldn’t call you by your name,” Keith corrects. They hadn’t really gotten to the point of denying him access to Shiro before he’d lost his temper.

“Hey,” Shiro gets his fingers under Keith’s chin and tilts it up, “Look at me,” Shiro’s lips are creased in a small frown, “You can’t do that here. Whatever they want to call me, let them call me,” What? How can Shiro say something like that? “I’m serious, Keith. They are this close to giving up on you. Things like this, attacking the workers just because you’re mad, doesn’t help.” He wants him to…what?

“Shi-” Shiro presses a thumb against his lips, “You can’t call me that anymore. This isn’t something worth getting hurt over.” He doesn’t realize he’s bitten down until Shiro’s yanking his hand back and jerking away in a couple stumbling steps. He didn’t, he didn’t mean to. Shiro, wide eyed in shock that Keith would bite him, and Keith, he can’t move. He’s confused, angry, and a little scared. That should mean attack, that’s what it’s always meant in the past, but this is Shiro. Oh god, he bit Shiro.

He can see Shiro find his center with a deep breath, then step closer to him again, “Keith, I’m not mad,” His voice is precise, deliberately calm in a way that says he is, “I know this is a lot to take in. You’re scared. It’s okay,” He doesn’t move as Shiro wraps his one arm around him and pulls him in for a hug. It’s an awkward angle, but still grounding in a way words alone aren’t, “I understand, but you have to calm down, okay?”

Keith closes his eyes, counts to ten, tries to think his way through the panicked confusion still trying to take off with his heart, “What happened to you? Why are you saying these things?” The Shiro he knows would never stand for someone trying to rename him, much less tell Keith that he should go along with it.

“A lot, a lot’s happened, and if you’ll listen to me, I’ll have time in the future to tell you about it.” Keith looks up. There is so much sincerity in those grey eyes it hurts. This doesn’t make sense, but Shiro believes what he’s telling him.

“What do you want?” He asks, he can’t put any anger or defiance to his words. Just, the need to know, to understand.

“A new arm?” That…Shiro’s smiling. That was a joke. A completely ill-timed and inappropriately dark joke. If his arms were free, he’d slap Shiro upside the head for that. Shiro chuckles, “Sorry,” No, he’s not, “I want a race. Just a few laps.” Shiro says more seriously.

Keith frowns, “Because they asked you to talk me into it.” That’s all any of this is, for some reason, Shiro is acting as the nice face to convince him to do what the humans want.

“Because I want them to see your value,” There is another one of those big sighs, before Shiro continues, “Keith, they don’t keep those that don’t profit them. You won’t do what you’re told, so they can’t sell you, but you’re fast. Faster than me. If they see that, they’ll keep you around despite the trouble.” He doesn’t need Shiro to explain what the euphemism of what not being kept means. He’s skulked around enough ranches looking for Shiro to have seen the bodies. Once captured, a centaur is never released willingly, “Just do this one thing for me. Trust me this once, and we’ll get to see each other again,” Shiro pleads softly.

His pride tells him to say no, to stomp his hooves, and say he’ll never bow to give the humans an inch. That’s not true, though. For a drink of water, a bit of food, he’s already left his pride by the way side. His desire to survive far greater, and Shiro says this little thing is all it will take to ensure it, “Fine, one race.”

Inspired by this piece of art made by @tane-p

Note: Yes, that is exactly who you think it is. Also, if you ever behave this way around a horse, you will be introduced to the wrong end of their hooves. Behavior you can get away with around a centaur won’t fly for a horse.

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There is a storm rolling in. He can’t see the clouds yet, but the heat is building on waves of humidity and the joints in his arms have doubled their aches. All he wants to do is find a chilled stream to soak his underbelly in or even just a tree to stand under to hide from the sun, until the sweet relief of rain washes away the oppressive heat. The humans have other plans for him.

He didn’t ask where they were going and the hand hadn’t volunteered the information. He assumed one of the yards, they’d been very particular about making sure he got up to a full gallop at least once a day since discovering how fast he was. Probably planned on sending him to the centaur races like they’d been doing with Shiro. He is starting to have doubts he’ll escape before that happens.

He’d never seen Shiro look so tired and defeated as he had yesterday, so convinced that existing for human entertainment was the best he could hope for. Shiro may have always had a dark sense of humor, but he’d been an optimist at heart. Encouraging Keith to try harder, do better, because he believed sincerely that they could do anything they set their minds to. Now Shiro couldn’t even listen to Keith say that they could find a way around his lost arm. How was he supposed to talk him into trying to escape, when he had no hope?

“Well look at that, NumbSkull can behave.” The words jerk Keith from his thoughts. He’s been walked into one of the enclosed yards without realizing it. There are more ranch hands around than usual, all vaguely familiar in that disturbing way all the humans on the ranch are becoming almost distinguishable, but one of them he knows he hasn’t seen before.

He’s a big human, heavy set and almost tall enough to look Keith in the eye. The cloth he wears is different than the other humans, cleaner and more solidly colored. Making him stand out even more than his size. What really makes him certain that they’ve never met before is the human’s right eye. It’s bright, shiny, in a color he’s never seen in nature, and very clearly not something he was born with. It looks cursed. Like an evil token to cast dark spells with. Keith barely contains the urge to back away.

“So this is the taur that outran Champion? Doesn’t look like much.” The human stalks around him, looking him over, clearly unimpressed with his size, “You sure he didn’t take a dive? He’s been awfully concerned with this one’s fate.” The human stops his circling and moves forward, reaching for Keith. This time he does jerk away, trying to get away from what all his instincts are telling him is danger. The human narrows his eyes and grabs Keith’s lead. Yanks it hard, physically hauling Keith forward with one big muscular arm. His arms scream at the treatment, white spots scattering across his eyes, as he lets out a cry of pain, “I can see why, not very smart this one. No wonder the boys named him NumbSkull.”

The human grabs his face in one big hand turning it from side to side. He doesn’t know what the human wants from him, but he wants to be on the opposite side of the yard from him right now. His forehooves dance in aborted attempts to rear up, but between the hand on his face and the painfully tight hold on his lead, he can’t get away, “I thought you said he was tame. Does this look tame to you?” The human lets go of his face and thrust his lead at the ranch hand who led him here.

Keith doesn’t waste time getting as far away as the rope will let him, “He’s high strung, but the small ones always are. He hasn’t kicked or bit anyone since we put him in a yard with Champion.” He doesn’t know the ranch hand that’s speaking, and with the blood rushing in his ears what little differentiating features they have are all blurring together. Anger starts to rear its head among his panic. Who are these humans to talk about him like this? To act like they know something about him just because they managed to get a rope around him.

The big human looks over at him, staring closely with his evil eye, considering. Keith freezes where he stands, only his heaving chest giving away he isn’t in fact a statue, “This ones a bolter if I ever saw one.” The human turns to the ranch hand beside him, Keith feels likes he’s escaped Medusa’s stare, “Leave him on lead, but take him off for the stall. If he gives you any trouble go back to full time. Come back to talk to me when he’s actually tame.”

“Yes sir,”

@tane-p made another piece for this fic. Go check it out and give her some love for talent!

Note: Took me a bit to figure out how all this was going to go down. Had to give Keith a kick in the rear, so he didn’t get too comfortable. The guy in this chapter is kinda the Ranch’s medic. He’s not a specialist with formal training of any sort, but for most things that could go wrong with a centaur’s health, he knows what to do.

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““Kneel,” The order doesn’t have the malice or irritation to it that he’s come to expect from the ranch hands. If anything the human sounds a bit like he’s going down a mental checklist. The lack of open hostility is a relief. After his run in with the evil eyed human, the hands had run him hard. Past exhaustion to just wanting to lay down in the middle of the training yard and die. Their daily ‘exercise’ always left him tired, but there had been spite behind the number they’d made him run today. They’d wanted to show him off as their tame mindless centaur. His attempts to escape the evil human’s grasp had upset them greatly.

Keith carefully does as he was asked. Getting to his knees and hocks laying his underbelly against the ground, “John, support his arms.” The disinterested human orders, and the ranch hand who’s been leading him around all day jumps to obey. The one ordering is different from the normal ranch hands. He’s stood out from the second Keith spotted him waiting by his stall. Not because of size, physical appearance, or even the cloths he wears. All were only minutely different from the other humans, but something about his presence projects calm and importance. An aura that says this is someone that should be paid attention too, “You,” The human makes sure he catches Keith’s eyes before continuing, “Don’t try to move on your own, once I cut the ropes. You’ll only hurt yourself.” 

The human stays within Keith’s line of sight, as he slowly pulls out a knife. Keith can’t help the way all his muscles tense at once. Rationally, killing him just as he starts to do what they want makes no sense, but the blade is sharp and he can imagine how easily it could slice his flesh, while he’s unable to do anything to stop it from his current position, “Easy now,” The calm human soothes, “It’s just for the ropes,” Carefully, slowly, making sure Keith can watch the whole time, he moves the knife back to Keith’s arms, “Remember don’t try to move once they’re off.”

The human is as gentle as one can be when sawing so close to somebody’s skin, the ranch hand holds his arms up as the support of the rope falls away, and Keith grits his teeth against the sting in his skin from their removal. Soon enough, the only thing holding his arms behind his back is the ranch hand. He can’t quite see the way the calm human runs fingers along his abused forearms, but he can feel every disturbed rope burn and bruise as the human comes across them, “You like to pull don’t you,” The human says softly. It takes Keith a moment to realize he’s the one being addressed and a response is expected. No one here but Shiro goes through this much effort to address him kindly.

“They’re the ones who tied me to a post,” Keith says in his defense. The human shakes his head with a sigh. Keith doesn’t like how childish and petulant that response makes him feel. Like he’s a colt shouting ‘they started it’ at a rival.

“Your arms are a mess of bruises, but you’ve been very lucky and avoided any major bloody spots,” The human pets his lower back. It reminds him of Shiro trying to keep him calm, “In the future, please be careful. Pulling on your lead, like you have been, could very easily lead to open wounds and infection. If no one catches it in time, you could get very sick and possibly even die.” The man chastises, but gently, like he’s actually worried about Keith’s well being. Shame creeps up on him. He has a tendency to act without thinking. Most of the time he gets by on quick thinking, but sometimes, like now, he just hurts himself for no payoff.

“Alright,” The human pats his back, “Lets get these arms stretched out. I’m sorry, but this will hurt. If it gets to be too much, tell me and we’ll stop while you catch your breath. Ready?” The human puts his hands on Keith’s bicep and forearm, but waits for Keith’s nod to begin.

The flood of pain as his elbow is unbent steals his breath away. He thought having his arms bound and pulled on for days on end was the height of pain. He was so wrong.  His eyes water, as the human carefully straightens his arm and checks to make sure everything still has full range of motion. Each joint and muscle yelling their protest at the now unfamiliar movements. When the human finally lets go, Keith’s gasping for air like he’s just ran a race, “There you go, you’re alright.” The human is rubbing his back while Keith catches his breath, “We’re halfway done. You ready for the next one?” No, but it’s better to get these things over with. Keith grits his teeth and nods again. It’s just as bad as the first time.

Even after his arms are fully stretched out and hanging limply by his side, the human doesn’t leave immediately. He sends the ranch hand off for a bucket of clean water, and then carefully washes the raw skin on Keith’s arms. Getting rid of the dirt and grime so he can examine them again for anything that might need more attention. Only once he’s certain that Keith is going to be okay, does he get up to leave.

He finds himself speaking without meaning to as the man closes the gate, “Thank you,” He’s been the kindest human and the most interested in Keith’s welfare since he came to this forsaken place.

“You’re welcome,” The human smiles at him, “I’ll check on you again soon, to make sure everything keeps being alright. Just remember what I told you about pulling,” The human waves as he leaves, and for a few minutes he finds himself looking forward to seeing him again in the future.

The man had been nice. He could have just cut Keith free and left him be to deal with the pain on his own. The extra presence had helped, made things much less miserable than they would have been otherwise. He was grateful for that…grateful…grateful for a scrap of kindness shown in this hellish place…grateful one of the humans working at the ranch had spent a few minutes worried about his comfort…grateful…Keith stares at the black bruises interspersed with the red rope scratches mottling his arms. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here now. 

He’s becoming like Shiro. Starting to see light spots in his captivity. Beginning to even like some of his captors. Forgetting everything else they’ve done today because one person treats him with the mildest standard of kindness. If he stays here much longer, they are going to own him. He can’t wait anymore. Next time he sees Shiro, they have to escape.

@tane-p made another cool piece of art based on Part 1 go check it out.

Note: There is a reason Shiro’s arms aren’t bound like Keith’s. Hopefully only two more parts, may have to make it three though.

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Keith takes big greedy gulps of the warm trough water. It tastes bad from sitting stagnant in the sun for so long and he has to all but face plant to get at it, the ranch hands seem to think his arms are just for decoration and still refuse to untie them for any reason, but he’s far too thirsty to care.

They’d left him staked out to the post again. Seeing Shiro after so long, in such a bad state, had reignited every ounce of his defiance. The next time one of the hands had come to take him from the stall, he’d demanded to see the other stallion. That was when he found out no one here knew of a ‘Shiro’. Some angry throwing out of every descriptor he could think of, ending with nearly yelling ‘he’s missing an arm’. Had gotten the hand to realize who he was talking about, only to have the nerve to tell him that that centaur was named ‘Champion’, and if Keith knew what was good for him, he’d start using that name too. He doesn’t regret rearing back and kicking the human square in the chest, even if he’d spent another day in the hot sun with nothing to drink or eat for it. He hopes he broke some of the bastard’s ribs.

There is a tug on his lead, “Come on NumbSkull, I don’t have all day,” Keith ignores the demand. He hasn’t had enough to drink yet, and he’s making a point of the fact they don’t get to rename him like they tried to do with Shiro. He has a name, and if they want to talk to him, they can use it. The next jerk to the lead nearly pulls him off balance, “I said it’s time to go. Get your ass in gear or you can stay out in the damn yard until you rot.” Keith flicks his tail and lifts his face so he can glare at the hand, but slowly gets to his hooves. He doesn’t actually have a death by exposure wish, “Took your fucking time, now come on.”

Keith’s a little surprised when he’s not led directly back to the stable. He sort of figured they were going to give him enough water to make sure he didn’t up and die on them, then put him away until the next time they felt like trying to tame him. Seems like they already had plans for him today though.

He follows the hand at as slow a pace as he thinks he can get away with. He’s being petty, but if he has to be miserable, then everyone else can be too. At least he does, until he spots who’s waiting for him in the training yard. He all but drags the hand to the gate, and then tears his lead free to gallop across the yard. Shiro!

Keith skids to a stop in front of the other stallion, then rears up so he can bump Shiro’s cheek with his nose. “You’re here!” Keith can’t keep the delight from his voice. Shiro’s in the training yard with him, that must mean the humans are finally letting them see one another. Shiro lets out a surprised laugh, and leans down to return the gesture. 

It’s a happy reunion all around until the human sitting on the fence beside Shiro decides to open his mouth, “Fuck Champion, you never told anyone you had a colt,” Keith’s smile dies an untimely death. Being excited doesn’t make him a colt, especially not Shiro’s colt. They’re only a year apart in age.

Shiro squeezes Keith’s shoulder. He wants Keith to let him handle it, “We’re not related,” Shiro says, far more calmly than Keith could.

“Are you sure? He could be the spitting image of a younger you,” The hand peers closely at them both, and Keith bristles. No he doesn’t. Shiro never looked like him, even when they were young.

“We aren’t even the same breed,” Shiro pulls on his shoulder, getting him to turn so they’re side by side. Keith on the opposite side of Shiro from the interfering hand, “You wanted me to talk to him, and get him to show you how fast he can run a lap around the yard, correct?” Wait, what? What is Shiro talking about? Why is he asking the human about what to do with him?

“Yep,” The hand says, “Don’t take too long.”

“Alright,” Shiro nods, then looks down at Keith, “Walk with me.”

Inspired by this lovely piece of art created by @tane-p

Note: This part was actually planned from the beginning. Looking back, I’m not sure how I ever thought I’d get away with only a three part story.

Again, Shiro’s had a rough year, and before you start telling me work arounds. I’ve already thought of them. The actual problem is not the one brought up, but having been told something so many times that he believes it.

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He’s a little surprised at how quickly his demand is met. He was expecting to have to make a scene. Maybe refuse to leave the stall until they decided it would be less of a hassle to let him see Shiro than not, but no, someone in charge has a few braincells to rub together because Shiro is standing on the other side of his gate smiling at him, “Hey buddy, you want to go for a walk?” Keith has the biggest stupidest grin on his face, and he doesn’t even care.

Inspired by this piece of art made by @tane-p

Note: I’m going the mythical creatures route to explain centaur diets on this one. They can kind of survive on a horse’s diet, but really they need some extra stuff mixed in to be really healthy.

No promises on a second update today. I may have time, but I’m also doing real life stuff.

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The crisp morning air fills his nostrils. Everywhere he looks there is clear grassy terrain running up against brilliant blue sky. Most importantly of all, a laugh filled with all the joy in the world sings to his ears. Shiro stands beside him, the sun making his glossy coat shine. The other stallion smiles and waves at him to follow, taking off across the plain. Keith follows. Wind whipping through his hair while he gallops after. A deep sense of belonging settles in him. This is where he’s meant to be, playing and running free across the open fields with Shiro.

Keith opens his eyes to dark stable walls. Just a dream. He stretches as best he can. He’s always been a little uncomfortable after sleeping standing up, especially his upper half, but the loose straw on the floor is not nearly thick enough to protect his knees and hocks from the hard ground. He shakes out each of his legs in turn, then twists his upper abdomen side to side. There is a persistent aching cramp in his arms and upper shoulders, but there is nothing he can do about that at the moment. 

Maybe he can convince one of the ranch hands to untie them soon. Since seeing Shiro, and establishing once again that the other stallion will never ever beat him in a race, he’s played nice. Tried to get the humans to think he’s been talked into accepting the lot in life they’re trying to force on him. Keeping pace when they lead him, trotting when they tell him too, even keeping his distaste at their touching his flanks down to a twitch in his hind legs. Okay, maybe he kicked at that last one, but his hoof didn’t connect with the hand’s knees, so it still counts.

The behavior goes against his original plan of being a massive pain right up until he took off for the horizon, but his original plan had been based on him being the only one here. Finding Shiro requires a whole different approach. The Ranch is too deep in human territory to escape on his own and come back with a raiding party. Humans would surely mount a counterattack that would leave more dead than rescued. He’s willing to risk his life but the others have moved on. They’d never agree.

No, if he wants to get them both out of here. He needs to convince the ranch hands that leaving Shiro and him together is a good way to get what they want. Wait until the humans let their guard down, and then they can escape together. The fences are short enough that with a running start he can easily clear them, and they are both fast enough that they should be able to get out of the human territory within half a day easy. Once on the plains, they’ll never be found. 

A minor commotion starts just out of the sight range his stall provides. One far too chipper voice, the rustle of a big bag, and the sound of clacking as everyone in the entire stable adjusts where they are standing. Oh great, it’s time for breakfast, blick. Breakfast was the worst meal of the day. Dinner tended to leave a lot to be desired, generally consisting of whatever vegetables the Ranch could get cheap, random greenery, and maybe some oats. No meat, not for him at least. He doesn’t know what you have to do to be one of the centaurs in the stable that actually gets their meals to acknowledge they’re an omnivore, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be willing to do it. Breakfast on the other hand, is hay. Just hay. He hates hay. Some people like it, but for him, eating grass was always a last resort when he was free. He’d rather go hungry for a day while his traps caught some nice juicy rabbits than eat grass. Shiro used to always joke if he wasn’t such a good hunter he’d have starved. Shiro…

He recognizes the ranch hand that stops by his stall to dish out his allotment of hay. He’s the same one that comes by every day. He’s shorter than the others, small in every way. He could be young, but then again, what Keith can see of his skin is a shade of brown he hasn’t seen on the other humans, maybe he’s a different breed? It doesn’t matter.

Keith kicks the gate, making it shake with a bang. The tiny human jumps back, startled. The wide eyes that look up at him, lean towards his young theory. Though, maybe he’s just smart enough to know Keith would gladly bash his head in if he could get away with it, “I want to see him,” Keith demands. He gave them a couple days of playing ‘tame’ to show that he could, but his plan requires they think frequent contact with Shiro is necessary to maintain the attitude they want.

“See who?” The tiny human asks. Looking nervously to where he still has to finish giving Keith his meal. The feeding trough is attached to Keith’s side of the gate, only way he can eat with his hands tied. If the human wants to finish his job, he has to stick his hand in to where Keith’s teeth can reach him.

“You know who,” The ranch hands gossip, no way has his attachment to Shiro gone unnoticed by anyone, “He’s big and missing an arm. I want to see him.” Descriptors because he’s going to bite off his tongue before calling Shiro by the name they gave him, but he’s still playing nice so he can’t use Shiro’s real name.

“I can’t do that for you,” No duh, this place has an obvious hierarchy, and this guy just has a list of chores. Keith’s not stupid.

Keith steps as close to the gate as he can, glaring down. His height isn’t generally intimidating, but he’s finally found someone that makes even him look huge. He works that angle for all it’s worth, “Talk to someone who can.”

“O-okay, I’ll talk to the boss,” The human backs away slowly, as if Keith had a way to get over this gate without stabbing himself in the gut, “As soon as I’m done.” He says in a rush, before scampering off to the other side of the stable to feed the others. 

He can’t decide if he’s disappointed or happy that the tiny human forgot to give him the rest of his alloted hay.