Home for Horny Monsters Ch. 056

Laughing, he allowed her to lead him into the centaur's village. The yurts had all been decorated with floral arrangements, and tall tables had been set out for the centaurs to eat and drink at. A table had been set up on a platform that would allow Mike and the others to sit at eye level with the tribe, and he was warmly greeted with handshakes and the occasional back slap that threatened to topple him. Everyone had already taken their seats at the table, and the centaurs had gathered around to talk with them.

Overhead, the fairies were darting about, chased by eager centaur children who laughed and giggled. Cerulea allowed herself to be captured in a jar and made faces at the kids for their amusement, until she squeezed free to join her sisters.

Around the edges of the village, the centaurs had set up instruments and were playing a variety of drums, flutes, and stringed instruments that reminded Mike of sitars. The whole affair reminded him of the summer he had gone to a renaissance festival with a former girlfriend and gotten sick from being out in the sun for too long. So far, the food here was much better, and the company even more so. For a change, everyone seemed enthralled by the festivities, which allowed him to sit back and snack on some fried vegetables on a stick that had been brought to him.

"Caretaker?" A centaur lass approached him, her hair hanging from her head in thick braids. "The future chief would like a word with you."

He nodded and bid farewell to the others. As he left, he looked back to see Kisa watching a nearby centaur perform, and was almost knocked over by a centaur child as it went running past in an attempt to catch Olivia. When he glanced over to the herd of children, he laughed when he saw Tink riding one of them and handing out make-shift nets to the other kids. He was so happy that she was having a great time.

Led away from the center of the village, he found himself standing before a large, decorated yurt that looked more like a small circus tent than a home. Standing outside of it was a pair of armed centaurs who stood at attention once Mike was in view. They greeted him warmly and held open the flaps so that he could step inside.

The inside of the yurt revealed decorated walls and a small cluster of centaur women who were fussing about a central figure standing on a pedestal. It was Zel, and she waved him over.

"Just a minute," she told him. "Once they're done braiding my hair, we can talk."

"Yeah, sure." He looked for something to sit on and found a nearby stack of boxes filled with fruit. After making sure the arrangement was stable, he took a seat and watched as the women around Zel finished placing long, intricate braids in her hair. They incorporated beads and feathers, and when they stepped away, he saw she was wearing an ornate vest that hugged her torso.

"You look great," he told her.

"Thank you." She blushed and then waved her attendants off. "I need a private word with the Caretaker."

The centaurs left, but more than a couple gave Mike lingering glances on their way out. Once they were alone, Zel walked over to him and smiled.

"It's the big day," she said, then did a little circle. "Do I look okay? I mean, I know I look okay, but what do you think?"

"You look great." He stood so that they were closer to eye level. "Everything okay?"

She nodded, then led him over to a table that had some food laid out. "I won't get much of a chance to eat once the ceremony starts, so I've been snacking through the day. Go ahead and help yourself."

"Thanks." He picked up an apple and bit into it, the juice running down his face. "I didn't know there were apples growing in the greenhouse."

"They don't. These are imported from the other world, where the old tribe lives." Zel's previous tribe had exiled most of the men and women who now lived in the village. Though relations were strained, they did have a truce, and the greenhouse was packed full of rare vegetation that the tribe could use for trade. "It will take a few years before we can grow them on our own."

"I see. So what's up? If you called me here for advice on how to be a leader, I am definitely the wrong person for it."

"No, not that. I already know I'm a far better leader than you." She said this without a trace of malice. "However, I think you give yourself far too little credit."

"Perhaps," he agreed.

"I called you here for a couple of reasons. The first one is that I miss you." A sad smile crossed her face. "It seems like I've barely seen you for the last month or so, but that's not anybody's fault. I've been busy here, and you've been busy trying to get Cecilia back. It happens. I just thought it would be nice to sit with you for a bit and catch up."

Mike nodded. "We can absolutely do that. I'm actually headed off to the Underworld myself in just a few days, hopefully, I can bring Cecilia back and everything will settle down."

"Oh, I doubt things will ever settle down. Not in that house." Zel picked up something that looked like a pear with thorns and used her fingernail to break the skin and start peeling it. "I would like to schedule something with you. A day, once a month, where you and I can meet and just catch up. Our relationship is important to me, and if we don't make time for it, we'll realize that far too many months have passed. That wouldn't make me happy at all."

He was about to argue that they didn't need such an arrangement, but she was absolutely right. Without any accountability, it would be hard to keep track of when they had seen each other last.

"I think that's a great idea," he told her.

"Good. We don't have to pick a time today, but let's do it soon." She finished peeling the skin off the fruit and took a bite of it. The flesh of the pear was white, but the juices ran red, and she caught them with her free hand just under her chin. "I loved these growing up. Never eat more than a couple, though. Will make you sick."

She held out the fruit to him and he took a bite and immediately blanched. "Oh, that's bitter," he told her.

"I suppose so. More for me, then." She winked and walked to the middle of the yurt. "The ceremony will start as the moon rises into the sky. I'm not sure how long it will last, it all depends on the herd. My aunt made all the arrangements, and I'm just going along with it. It's meant to be something that I don't have to deal with. However, there is a part of the ceremony she gave me a heads up about and I was hoping you could help."

"I'll do anything," he said.

"Typically, when someone becomes chief of the herd, it is through bloodlines or competition, and the other leaders of the tribe stand up with the new chief as the title is accepted from the tribe's shaman. Well, because the tribe is new, we don't really have any leaders, so it will just be her and I up there. The centaurs recognize you as the leader of your own herd, and I was hoping you could stand with me."

"Absolutely, count me in."

She smiled. "Great. You can walk in with me when they tell us it's time." Her smile faded. "Um, but there is something else."

He saw from her body language that she was afraid. He took her hands in his own and then stepped into her, giving her a big hug. "We can always talk about anything," he told her, his hands circling her waist.

"Yeah." She stepped back, a sad smile on her face. "I just don't want it to be awkward or anything. Anyway, I'll just spill the beans—I'm pregnant."

Kisa frowned at the food that had been set in front of her. Though it both looked and smelled delicious, the vegetarian dish she had been provided by the centaurs tasted bland and unappealing. She wondered how much of that was her prior taste in food, and how much was the cat side of her. Though she hadn't taken to chasing mice by any means, she had definitely had impure thoughts about how one of the rats in the house would taste.

Contemplating her dish, she looked up to see Tink surrounded by children. The goblin was telling them a story, and all of them soon broke into laughter, though more than one covered their mouth in disbelief. Grumbling to herself, Kisa pushed the food on her plate into the sauce that had come with it and tried to eat some of it.

"You don't look happy." This came from Dana, who sat across from her. She wasn't eating either—the centaurs hadn't bothered putting a plate in front of her.

"Why should I? Tink dragged me here, but she's over there, and there's nothing good to eat. There's plenty of music, but nobody is really playing a tune, it's like an improv jamboree in here." Kisa pushed food around her plate in disgust. "I thought maybe this would be fun, but now it'll be awkward if I sneak off."

"Hmm." Dana looked over her shoulder, her gaze sweeping across the crowd. "You know, it looks like everyone else here is having fun. Maybe you should quit relying on everyone else to guarantee you a good time and go make your own."

Taken aback, Kisa dropped her fork. Unsure what to say, a small growl escaped her. "I don't see you out there having fun," she muttered.

"You don't see me over here sulking about it, either. My idea of fun is overshadowed by so many other issues, I won't bore you with them. What matters most right now is that I'm surrounded by a community who was willing to invite me here in the first place, even though the one job they gave me to do has been impossible so far."

"The thing with the drones?" Kisa asked, suddenly curious. She had watched Dana messing with the flying devices more than once, and knew that some sort of experiment was being conducted in the greenhouse with them.

"Yeah. The herd wants to map this place out better so that they can expand. As far as anyone knows, this place is an entire world, ripe for exploration. But the jungle is thick, and a good terrain map would make it easier for them to make decisions about planting and such." Dana turned her attention to a group of centaurs who had started an impromptu jam over by an unlit bonfire. As the music played, nearby centaurs stamped their feet in time with the beat, and a collective bass line began flowing through the camp.

Kisa looked around to see that everyone playing instruments had joined in, and a much bigger song was now emerging.

"It's pretty interesting," Dana said, raising her voice to be heard. "I asked them about it once. They call it 'One Herd.' Their music is a lot like their other traditions, and they do this to represent the various tribes coming together to act as one giant herd. Wait until you see them dance, they do this thing—"

Dana was still talking as Kisa slid out of her chair and approached the bonfire. The centaurs were grouping up now and forming a giant circle around the stack of wood. Up above, the sky was darkening, and the beat of the drums resonated through her entire body.

"Is like heartbeat," the old man told her, his firm hands on her hips. They were standing in front of a mirror, and she was wearing baggy sweats with a tank top that was tight enough that she could see her own ribs through it. "Let heartbeat of music move whole body, not just arms and legs."

To emphasize, he moved her hips in a tight circle in time with a metronome he had set in the corner. She sighed and looked down at where he was holding her, wondering if this was when he was going to try and take advantage of her. She had been staying with him for a couple of weeks now, and she couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

"No, much too stiff," he said, then let go and stood next to her. "Too tight through pelvis. You need to unlock hips, Kisa." To demonstrate, he gyrated his hips, the bulge of his crotch now on full display in the mirror. He always wore a pair of grey tights when he practiced, and she looked away from his reflection.

"Isn't that kind of gross?" she asked. "Swinging your nuts around for everyone to see?"

"Human body is beautiful, Kisa," he told her with a scowl. "I dance for my own joy, and maybe joy of others. If someone has problem with my body, it is their problem, not mine. Never let what others think keep you from moving and chasing your own joy."

The beat had now filled her completely, her lips parted slightly as she stepped between a pair of centaurs to see the center of the circle. A man and a woman were stomping their feet and galloping around to keep everybody back, and a centaur stepped out from the crowd to reveal an elaborate headdress made of leaves and flowers.

Somebody cheered, and then a few others came forward, similarly dressed. They wore a variety of beads woven into the fabric that adorned their clothing and a bit of their flanks. They faced off with one another and stomped their feet while moving in a circular pattern. As far as dancing went, this seemed pretty tame.

At the front of the crowd, she found somewhere to stand next to a centaur child who stood about a foot taller than she did. The young man looked enthralled, his eyes wide in excitement.

"What are they doing?" she asked him, and he turned to look at her. A moment of surprise passed over his face when he saw who asked the question, and he lowered his front half so that they were now eye level.

"It's a traditional dance," he explained, shouting to be heard. "Many years ago, it was called a whirling something, I can't remember that part, but we now call it Running with the Wind."

The centaurs were now sidestepping from each other in time with the beat, and men and women alike were now twisting their arms from side to side as if winding themselves up. Kisa watched them for a second, then looked back at the youngster. "Do they teach this to all the kids?"

He blushed and looked down. "It's a tough dance, not everyone can do it."

Thinking that an odd answer, she was about to ask him what he meant when she saw that he was looking at one of his feet. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the ankle looked slightly thinner than the other three, and the hoof beneath it was the same color as his human skin. Over his hoof, he wore a thick brace, and she saw what looked like large toenails peeking over the edges. The hoof itself looked like it was stuck somewhere between human and horse, and she realized that the centaur had a deformity.

"Anyone can dance," she informed him, the heat rising in her cheeks. "Even this." The centaurs were now incorporating small turns with their lower bodies while they stepped sideways, and she had a feeling they were building up to something.

The youngster's cheeks turned red, and he frowned. "Dancing and being good at it are two entirely separate things."

"Fuck that noise," she growled. "You dance from your own heart, not everyone else's." The centaurs were now doing slow, full-body spins, and she saw that a few of them had moved up against the edges of the circle, making more room for the others.

There were two men and one woman in the circle, and Kisa stamped along with the others as the beat increased and the three centaurs started twirling. What started as a casual spin became aggressive, and the centaurs were now holding up their arms for balance as they spun, kicking up dirt and grit. All three of them looked like tiny tornados, and eventually one of them stumbled and fell out of sync with the others, leaving just one man and the woman.

It was a dance-off. She watched in amazement as the remaining two spun harder and faster than before, until the man finally lost his balance and stumbled into the others, caught by the crowd. The woman raised her arms in victory and trotted over toward her friends as another group came forward and the process repeated.

"See?" The centaur youth pointed at the new set of dancers as they spun. "It takes a lot of strength and coordination. They could fall, or accidentally kick someone." His eyes were locked on the dancers, and he chewed on his lip.

"But you do it, don't you?" she asked. "When nobody is looking, I bet you practice it."

He didn't respond.

When the next group of dancers finished, three more walked into the center of the ring, and Kisa joined them. The centaurs went silent as Kisa appraised them with a raised eyebrow, then stomped her feet along with the beat to let them know she was serious.

"She could get hurt," someone protested from the side.

"You worry about your own damned self," she shouted in the direction of the voice. "I'm here to run with the wind."

Another moment of silence came, but was penetrated by a cheer, and the centaurs all stamped their feet together. The other three spread out, giving Kisa plenty of room, and though she stood nearly six feet shorter than they did, she intended to use the space.

The dance progressed slower than the others, but she didn't care. She let the rhythm claim her, and stuck her arms out like the other dancers, twisting her hips from side to side. She could feel her tail whipping around behind her, and as the dance sped up, she lifted one leg and took an Arabesque stance. Without an extra pair of legs to help, she did her best to maintain the rotation of the dance, tossing in an additional pirouette on occasion and leaping to the side while spinning.

The chants from the crowd were growing louder, and during a particularly tight spin, she saw that one of the other dancers had fallen out of formation. Being smaller than the centaurs, she didn't have to turn nearly as fast, so was good to continue.

Cheers went up from the crowd as another dancer spun until dizzy. The dance paused when the departing dancer nearly face-planted into the center of the circle, and once he was gone, Kisa stood across from a centaur woman with long, braided hair bedazzled with colored beads.

"Think you can keep up?" asked the centaur. Kisa happened to catch the eye of the centaur youth standing on the edge of the crowd.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Kisa went through the initial twists, pleased at how her dress spun about her body and caught the waning light of day. The smell of smoke filled the air as someone started lighting the bonfire, and the dance continued.

The centaur was now doing a wide spin with her body, then coming to a stop to spin the other way. Kisa matched her move for move but drew in closer. The crowd yelled in excitement, and when the centaur kicked her rear legs out in a particularly tight spin that looked like a bucking bronco, she stepped beneath the legs, her body leaned back.

Gasps of fear and amazement came from the crowd, but Kisa's timing was impeccable. She was now doing her own version of the dance in the orbit of the centaur, her short frame allowing her to occasionally slip beneath the centaur's body and whirl on the other side. She moved back and forth beneath the centaur, throwing her arms wide and looking up into the sky.

The beat of the earth traveled through her feet and into her very core, and her entire body now pulsated along with it. The world was just spinning faces and drum beats, and when she finally stepped into a groove in the earth and lost her balance, a strong hand grabbed her by the wrist and caught her.

"Not bad," said her dance partner, who had also stopped. Everyone was shouting cheers of approval, and Kisa smiled, her breath coming in rapid bursts. "Let's let someone else have a turn, shall we?"

Kisa nodded, and the two of them stepped out of the circle together. When she looked back, she saw that some of the youngsters were now dancing, and smiled when she saw the young man she had been talking to join in.

"You ride the wind very well," her partner told her. "Would you like to see some of our other dances?"

"Yes, please," she said, her heart overflowing with joy as she was led to another dance circle she hadn't seen.

Mike's jaw hung from his face like a broken window shade, and he counted backward to the last time he had been with Zel sexually. Hadn't she said he couldn't knock her up? Fear of parenting aside, how much could he even contribute to a child that could outrace him? His heart was pounding in his ears, and it occurred to him that Zel was still talking, but he hadn't been listening.