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Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Kalfor cried, remembering the day, feeling the pain, and processing everything. Shifted to lean against a lap, shifted to rest against a leg, and buried his face in the new smell.

The slow, sliding stroking of fingers against his temple, through his hair, finally allowed some respite, and sleep... after so long... came fitfully.

Still sobbing in his chest during the night, he shivered, but slept. And tried to absorb what was next in his life...
 
Oather came from the fire. Stirring the embers to life for hot tea and meat for the mounts. He heard his female rustling in the brush and smiled.

The relationship between rider and mount was meant to be ongoing. The survival of the life givers had to be ensured if their rider's were to survive. It was the risk of the relationship. Once secured the rider could not survive without his mount.

Those big animals would be showing signs of healing from the cambric wounds even now.

[Oather, can you unhobble Khan]

The feedings left the mount immune to all forms of diseases except a cold, and most injuries except decapitation or a wound to the heart. If a mount could last the night then it would live. It was a relationship not taken on lightly.

[Khan?] Oather came round the log wearing a grin. [You've name him, King]

[He attacked the cambric in the fog. That means something.]

Oather nodded and released the hobble chains. He set the short chain between the mounts ankles. He could stand and walk but not run. Releasing a mounts chains was strictly for his rider to do.

[And you rode him into another fight. It means you're both young fools. Tea will be ready when he wakes.]

Oather moved in the direction of Arvir who was still sleeping soundly. Gyth could hear Sark move around a little. There were no birds here. This was the edge of the bog. He glanced back at .....Khan.

Yeah, this big fellow's name was Khan!
 
Blessed darkness. He was sure of the. And it was empty now, devoid of memories, or even dreams. Which, to Kalfor, was a blessing.

But within the empty inky blackness of his soul, other things were swirling. A burning that he thought was muscular throbbing, was knitting or ripping tendons...

But he was healing, and he shifted in sleep, suddenly aware and awake, and sat up reflexively, unsure of where he was.

His eyes were wild. He was... lost...
 
Gyth was there. His hands to Khan. His voice soft, deep and murmuring incoherent utterances as he tried to calm his mount.

The sounds that came from Gyth were disturbing. Alright for mounts but it sounded like Gyth had something in his throat and couldn't get it cleared out.

Oather glanced over from the fire, [What are you doing?]

[Soothing him. It's what they do]

Oather's mount the pregnant female, sat up and looked over in bewilderment. Oather frowned, [Your frightening Opal]

Gyth was focused on Khan. His Khan. He gave him a solid pat on the shoulder. Reassuring and sympathetic as he motioned for the mount to stand up.

It was a clicking sound. Something Khan would have to get use to. Signals that passed as insect noises would be their life line to each other until..... if.... but certainly there had been something more than just the feeding. Certainly.

Gyth's hand on the reigns and lead, [I'll take him to stretch his legs just to walk around the camp]
 
There was a sound like a rumble of water and rocks that, after concentrating on, he realized that it was from the bogey man. Was that what frightened him? Perhaps that continuous burning might have done it...

That hand on his shoulder almost made him shudder and jump; warm touch seemed almost unseemly in the centre of hell. His head swung to look at him, his... rider... watched the hand gestures, heard the sound...

HE had made that sound. For his own horse. What the hell WAS he? What was to become of him?

With little choice, he stood, and felt tied to the creature who had all but immobilized him, and now expected him to come. Like something docile. So he did... and would bide his time.

He had run before. He would run again.

Looking down at his ankles he realized that it would not be now. Nor not while his balls were at someone else's mercy...
 
A walk around. Stretch legs bent too long. Lead. Gyth had often lead a mount to stretch their legs. This one needed encouragement. There would be a fair amount of running today. This big fellow would need to loosen up for it.

Led and touched. Mounted soon enough but not now. Now it was stretching around the camp. Gyth noted that Opal glanced over twice as he lead his stallion around the camp. Mare's seemed to always know which stallion would lead, which would take risks, which would be the first to fight.

But not now and not today. Today the trip would be enough for them all. They would welcome the shelter of the safe shelter if they could make it that far.

Oather stood at the fire and held up the pot. Spot skimming off the spout. [Last tea!]

Gyth turned to see Arvir moving with his mount. Sark and his were not at their pad.

Gyth brought Khan to the hitch. A rock the size of a building with rings in various places. He secured the lead to one a few rings down from Opal, and patted the big fellow on the hip as he walked to the camp fire. The hand pins would keep Khan from untying it from the lead.

Khan would keep til after morning tea. Gyth walked over to Oather and took a bowl of the warm beverage. [Where's Sark?]

Arvir noting last call brought his mount to the ring on the other side of Opal so the mare was between the stallions and separated by several rings from both. He gave his own a pat on the shoulder and moved to the camp fire unconcerned. His smaller mount had also been fitted with pins.
 
Unfurling to his full height, he felt his vertebrae align, and his legs finally feel more like his own. The soreness and weariness he had felt before was somewhat alleviated; and he hadn't even had a full night's sleep.

Blinking a little, he finally felt his mind clearing, even with that heated buzzing that raced through him, almost distracting.

Almost.

After walking, stretching his legs and feeling more... and apparently less... human, he was led to a place that looked hauntingly like a stable. Actually, it wasn't a standard stable like he would have had at home. His would have been covered, made of wood, filled with stable boys who would feed, water and pamper his horses. Here, he was hooked to a ring and left.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at his hands; those hands that had stood him in good stead, but now were useless. They could hold nothing, manipulate nothing, and he sighed heavily. He was young, and foolish, but Kalfor was nothing if not resourceful. He lowered his mouth the taste the bindings, and knew that the metal could not be chewed through.

Instead, he nudged them with his forehead, more out of frustration than anything else. Wrapped in his own thoughts and self-doubt, he finally acknowledged something he only considered himself imagining. Eyes were resting on him, and he turned to look at the source.

It was a woman. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to observe completely. He hadn't meant to stare, but he hadn't imagined that there would be females. And he hadn't imagined that there might be more than one male, tied on the other side of her.

They had been left alone. And he waited until he hoped that the bogeymen were out of earshot. "I'm Kalfor," he whispered. The first time he didn't identify himself by his title. "And you are?"
 
Her eyes brightened as the tall brute spoke. Her mothers language. She smiled, the words came easily to her lips. She did not have a bit. She did not need tamed or broken to a rider.

“Opal,” She said quietly knowing they had been placed here to talk. “You fought well yesterday. The riders speak of you in high praise. I have asked to take your seed if you survive the trip. I should like that.”

She rubbed her pooch and shifted her feet, “It will be next year. After I have suckled my rider’s ghett.”

She sighed and stretched as she studied him. He had that look and perhaps if he knew.

“Are you going to ask a question or try to escape again?”
 
"What?"

It might have been too loud, but his shock at her matter-of-factness at her situation... a beautiful creature and she... "You're carrying a bogey man's child?"

Well, he knew what that meant. That they laid with their mounts... and he recalled the joining with a small shudder as the hairs on his body perked slightly. But she was resigned to it, as though this way of life was NORMAL. How could that be?

He hoped, prayed, and resolved to not be Opal. Not to be the one to bend... Not to be the one to accept...

"You..." His eyes narrowed as he tried to form the words. "You want to have my child?" WHAT?!?

It was getting to be too much. And that attempt at escape was sounding more and more likely. "I have asked my questions."

As though announcing that he needn't be bothered with any more. His child... his line... would be... Well, if it had been last week, it would have been a crowned prince and next in line to the throne. But now...?

He didn't even know what he was... let alone the children that would be his. He hadn't even thought that far ahead... And, with a start her realized something else.

He had turned 18 without much fanfare, no celebration, and no gifts.

Futilely, he rattled the chains at his hands and turned away from her, looking hard at the rock that they were tied to, and felt the welling need to hit something.

Really, really hard.
 
It was the softest of giggles. Her eyes brightened. "Not a bogey man, VuNish Riders. And yes I carry Oather's ghett." she said proudly.

He was strange this stallion. His questions odd. What would a stallion worry about a mare. Definitely odd but that is how the wild ones were. Her mother had been right. She hoped that he was smarter than her sire. She hoped this one did not runaway to suffer and die from the lack of Thirst.

How could he be surprised that she would want a stallion who was tall and well formed to take her. Whatever manner of place he came from it was chaos. However had he managed to live so long without a Rider? But his courage was not a question. Neither was her desire. She wanted to lay with him.

She watched him test the strength of the ring and chains. There was a restlessness about him. It made her curious. She wanted to learn more about the insane life he ran from to find the Riders. Certainly he knew he was very extraordinary to fight the Cambric without a Rider.

She nodded her head shyly. "Of course, you are a leader. I want a child who is strong and brave but not as stupid as you. I desire you." She smiled as she unashamed looked at his hips. "Your cock is even now hungry. Do you feel the Rider's Thirst yet?"
 
That sound tickled down his back like water, a soft and sweet sound that held humour, and somehow, a knowledege far deeper than anything he might have ever known.

But what the hell could a pregnant woman who was PROUD to be carrying a bogey man's child know?

His view of the world was the right one. One where he was on top of it, above it all, and ready to mantled with the power to rule. Regardless of the reality of his situation. If he accepted that? He would be lost.

VuNish Riders. So the bogey men had raised themselves from such a title to pride themselves on the horror they perpetuated. How damned quaint.

"Stupid? ME!?!?" Oh, how lovely. First woman he had seen in 4 days and she wanted him, but not until after she had birthed a bogey man's baby. She thought him stupid. He thought her insane. It might be better for him if he didn't engage her in more conversation, because his anger... that burning... it was becoming more pronounced.

"My cock is NOT a subject for conversation. And just because you have accepted some place for yourself here, it does NOT make ME stupid. On the contrary, Opal. It makes you monumentally stupid." He shifted from her prying eyes and shook the chains harder, now yanking on them in a frustrated and ever-increasing rattle.

"What Rider's Thirst?" he asked, before the need to escape overwhelmed him. Like part of him was needing to move, to run, to go... where? He didn't care any further. Anywhere other than speaking with a stupid woman who somehow had accepted her life like it was NORMAL. Like these creatures weren't monsters. Like her child wouldn't be a monster. Like he would take her to his bed after she had been with such a creature...

Pushing the memory of the coupling, the feeding... the sharing... to the back of his mind, he railed against it, pulling in long, even strokes, hoping, NEEDING that release. He was captured as surely as if he had surrendered in battle. But no. He had not.

Had he?

The fact that he had to ask the question meant that he had to leave... had to... go. No matter how stupid Opal, the bogey man lover, thought him to be. His lungs heaved, his hair matted to his head with the strain, and the sweat poured down his face and shoulders, sliding down his muscled back in small rivulets.

He. *yank* Had. *yank* To. *yank* Go. *yank*

"NOW!!!!" And he gathered his strength to pull as hard as was humanly possible for a man who had become desperate, who had reached a place within himself, who had made a choice to die rather than live in such a way that would kill him anyway.

No matter how he cut it, somehow, Kalfor would lose himself, and he cried out with the deep, mournful soul-wrenching sob of a boy threatened but powerless to do anything more. His hot tears mingled with the cooling sweat as the boy emerged in full force, fuelling his muscles and his rage...

(Can anyone say, tempest in a tea pot?)
 
Gyth heard the rattle. He continued sipping hot tea.

Oather glanced over and heard his mare softly purring. [Rope or Chained to the ring?]

Gyth squatted at the fire. [Chained. I'll give him a minute or two more]

Arvir came over and poured tea in a bowl [ I think he'll run]

Gyth set his bowl down on the stone break and stood to stretch. [For a long time.]

Oather put his down on top of Gyth's bowl. [You gonna give him his head?]

Gyth pulled out the strap and adjusted his spurs. [As long as the body is going in the direction that head is pointing yes and for as long as he can run]

Arvir grinned. [We should catch up by night fall]

Gyth shook his head wearing a grin. [If you're lucky. Day after tomorrow.]

Gyth gave them a salute as he stepped off towards the rock outcropping. He came around the corner. His stallion's head was down, his shifting. It was clear that Khan was getting the first onset of Rider's Thirst with a serious dose of reality. And Gyth knew it was gonna get more real in a few minutes.

Nothing to do for it. The spurs jingled as Gyth walked to mount Khan's back. He made a clicking sound, warning Khan he was going for a ride. Gyth didn't need the stirrups. The warning was at the last minute on purpose.

Gyth vaulted into the saddle on Khan's back. He'd set it up to ride high between the shoulder allowing just the right amount of weight bearing without going for a tumble over the stallion's head at the first buck or two. Gyth thought there would be some and that was just what wild range stallion's did.

Gyth leaned over the shoulder quickly and released the lead. He tugged at the reigns to turn Khan's head to the right and gave a tap with his heels and a clicking of his tongue for let's go.

Then it was all on Khan. Gyth braced to see what would happen next. He was ready for anything.
 
FREE.

But not.

It didn't matter to Kalfor... it didn't matter in the slightest. He was in fight or flight mode, and there was little to punch or maim. Nary a thought on the female, heavy with child, desire and confusing options...

So he chose the other alternative.

He chose to run.

Did he hear something in the back of his brain actually enouraging him to move? Did he REALLY care if he had permission of some creature he had feared for most of his life? His legs strained and stretched, moving with the need like he was a man possessed.

He was running... running from... something that chased him inside of himself. That burning flowed, flushed him and he pushed himself, his limits...

Was it his imagination or did he feel stronger? Move faster? Heal...? His muscles, his body, his whole soreness and fatigue. He was not damaged, but by all rights, he should have been. And with a whoop and a fresh burst of speed, he let loose his power.

His legs were pumping, his heart finally increasing after so long working, and his whole being alive with the need to go. The wind on his face, even in the night air... it cooled his body and he felt his whole body tingle.

He could run all night.

And probably would...
 
It was a matter of direction. It required that the stallion's head and feet moved in the same relative direction as each other. There was no doubt about speed. Gyth had never found any mount as fast. The wind blew chilly against his body and the galloping strides were perfect for a rider. He could not have bred one so well balanced and sure footed.

It didn't stop there. The gallop was furlongs which turned to miles and well past sun up. Gyth riding sure with little need for a touch of the reigns. They were still going strong when they come upon the Wall Niks.

This was a short cut off the main path. The high spirits of Khan demanded it and they had time. More than enough time to turn back if necessary. The way was blocked by the stone fences that surrounded each field the Wall Niks cultivated. Some hidden behind hedge row and others steepled by a log.

Gyth gathered into the saddle. His feet tightened in the stirrups. His hands on the reigns. He watched the first stone wall 3 feet high intently as they ran break neck towards it. Ready for anything, but encouraging the run and the leap over the jump.

For once in his life, Gyth wanted to know what it was like to fly!

"HHHEEEEEYYYYYAAAAAHHHHH!!"
 
He ran.

Ran as though his life depended on it. And perhaps, in some stolen corner of his being, it did.

Was there any belief that he could do anything?

Not even close. Because otherwise, he might actually have the ability to feel he could get free. And that was one thing he couldn't entertain. Not now. Because he would not endure the disappointment. Nor endure the humiliation of failure. Again.

They were aiming for a steep outcropping... no... no... a steep wall. Almost half his height.

It might have been the speed at which he was going; the burning long extinguished in his legs. Or it might have been the rider's heels digging in. But whatever it was, or a combination thereof, he aimed straight and true.

And then he leapt. Clear over it all. And landed, sure-footed on the other side.

He breathed and the world skidded by...
 
They flew over that stone wall. Gythe's mount gathered under him and he was air borne as he had never been before. The air was lighter he was sure of it. He howled triumphantly and waved his hat in the air.

A Wal Nik and a small tad waved back from their cart along the dirt path half a field away. The small pet tomken barked and gave chase. But Khan was in his full gallop and the only obstacle ahead was another wall. Even that was impossibly easy. His beautiful strong Khan was lightening in the wind.

[Go Boy! Take it!!]

Gyth grunted the best he could immitate Khan's language, "Gwahhh!!"

Beyond was open range. Beyond was rolling hills. Beyond was a place to drink from the stream and rub Khan down as Gyth walked him to cool him down. Their journey for today half way over already and the sun was only just breaking straight over head.

Gyth gave the stallion a well deserved pat [Glorious Khan!!]

And announced his intent to him Khan leap, "HHHHEEEEYYYAAAAAA!!!!!"
 
He ran like the wind, soaring over the wall at an easy pace, and felt the air brushing his cheeks. He was angry, frustrated, tired, exhilirated and running as though the devil himself was at his back.

Instead, he had the bogey man ON his back, and he was... actually enjoying this breakneck pace. Kalfor hadn't remembered when he had run so far, so long, or even without thought.

Freedom.

He saw the open plains, the lack of responsibility, the... lack of anything other than his own heartbeat, and each day rolling out before him like a long vista. He knew that he was either drunk, or feverish, but neither mattered as his legs continued to pump up and over.

So the rider thought he did it for him, did he? Well, a few times during the ride, he shook, he shimmied, he even stopped short to try and throw the funny little bastard. Anything to get this extra weight off his back, anything to be truly free.

Only once did he feel a burning in his legs, but he pumped past it and was now in the zone. Nothing mattered to him but the sky and ground beneath his feet. As though nothing else mattered, and in that moment, nothing else did.

In that moment, he felt whole.
 
The wind in their faces and off Khan ran. Definitely the devil as Gyth used the crop when that great lug locked his knees at a full gallop almost undoing the rider. But Gyth swatted his stallion good naturedly and laughed. He rode tighter after that warning. Unafraid of a spill if it came to that but certainly no green young rider.

Gyth had ridden barn sour old timers who knew a trick about a limp for sympathy and he easy ride back to the barn. He had ridden mares who hated everything including themselves and tried to bite at every opportunity. He'd ridden those that had no energy save in the direction back to the barn.

There had been the veterans on the route to outposts. Hard backed union laborers that just went a certain clip then stopped suddenly for what they considered their break of so many minutes. Not crop nor spur could send them leaping into a gate until they were ready.

Khan was different. Khan was a box of energy with an attitude. Boundless glorious energy to match Gyth's own. Riding was as hard as getting ridden. A run was worse and a gallop was sustained movement as the conditions underfoot changes. Gyth looked out ahead. The stand of rock to the left. Fresh shrub and foliage. Not as heavily treed as the bog but trees and shade were plentiful.

Gyth tugged left and nudged with his left foot signaling Khan to head for the rock outcropping. It was then that Gyth saw the wisp of smoke above the rock coming from the other side. Someone was camping.

Gyth tugged back on the reigns to slow Khan's full gallop down incrementally. Their first encounter with others. It could be several different types about. Possibly VuNish, or Wall Niks, maybe the tall preying mantis like Cuffs.

Caution was the word for the moment. Move to the up stream and in full sight of the camp. So they would be moving more left even to the rock. Gyth wanted a good look before he and Khan committed.

Gyth meant to say 'easy boy', but it came out a little garbled. "Smoph Joe"
 
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