What if, in this retelling, the hunter isn't really the villain everyone makes him out to be? What if he truly, deeply cared, with all of his heart? So much so that it was debilitating, squashing all capacity for reason. And since his feelings confused him and he didn't know how to react to his fear of the unknown, he behaved poorly and in anger.

What if, in the end, all he wanted was what he imagined was best for the person he cared about—as misguided, perhaps, as the idea was? Is it ever really bad to fight for someone you love?

...o0o...

The snow fell from the sky—millions, billions, maybe even trillions of unique entities blazing their own trails through the air. They landed like frozen kisses on Luna's cheeks and lashes, and every now and then she had to brush them away.

She moved her arms and legs slowly—first out, then in, then out again. Her father always said that if a real angel saw a snow angel, they would bless someone in the area. Luna wasn't sure whether or not that was true, but it couldn't hurt either way, could it?

When she was finished, Luna rolled onto her side, resting her head on her hand and planting her elbow firmly into the ground to support her. Firenze looked so much in his element that it nearly took her breath away. Though he was kneeling beside her, he remained erect and stoic like a marble statue decorated with glittering snowflakes. Even his white-blonde hair took on a sort of luminescence, and the sheen of his off-white skin, and the depths that lurked in his glacial eyes.

They had spent a lot of time together in the past months, yet there was still always something surprising to discover about the centaur, even if it was something so simple as the way he looked beneath a mid-winter flurry.

He started, and the muscles in his flank rippled as he stood. Luna followed suit, but it was a few more seconds before she heard what he had and even longer to place what it was: the muted crunch of hooves on packing snow. The beat slowed, and a moment later a large, black centaur came into view, heading their way.

Firenze went rigid—more so than usual, if that was possible—but Luna did her best to don her sweetest smile as she called, "Good afternoon, Bane." She even threw in a little wave for good measure. But nothing could break the centaur's icy façade. She should have expected that by now, but she refused to give up. He'd come around. Eventually.

"Are you here? Again?" Bane stopped just short of a sneer, but he did dig one of his rear hooves into the ground and kicked up mud and snow behind him. It was obviously meant to be some kind of rude gesture. "I thought I made it clear before that you don't belong here."

"We don't own the forest, Bane. We simply dwell in it," Firenze said gently but firmly, the way one would to a stubborn child.

"She is a human; you are a centaur. Have you no dignity?"

"Who I choose to interact with is none of your concern."

Bane clenched his jaw as he closed the distance between him and Firenze. Through clenched teeth, and with a lowered voice as if she couldn't hear, he said, "After everything I have done for you, this is how you behave? Did I not take you in as a yearling, welcome you into the herd? Teach you the ways of our kind when you had no one else to show you? Raise you?"

"You did all that and more, but you do not own me."

Rage flashed in Bane's eyes—white hot and dangerous. Luna recognized it even before the centaur's brows narrowed and his face contorted to reflect his inner turmoil.

"You'd do well to remember your place."

The last word was practically spat out, and at the same time, Bane raised back onto his haunches.

There was no time to think. Luna reached into her robe and drew her wand, putting up a barrier as she stepped in front of Firenze. Only too late did she remember that it would only protect against magic, and a hoof didn't quite fall into that category. She had just enough time to get her arm up and her body out of the way.

The moment his hoof found a target, Luna knew the arm was broken. She felt the bone give way, but she bit back her cry.

Bane looked taken aback. He stepped backwards a few steps before harrumphing and trotting off into the woods. Firenze, on the other hand, seemed mortified.

"It's broken, isn't it?" he asked, holding out his hands as a silent order to let him inspect it.

"It's not that bad," Luna lied, clutching her arm to her chest. It was throbbing something fierce, and if she let him know how bad it really was, he'd never stop blaming himself. "Madame Pomfrey will have it fixed in no time. She really is quite good at it. Healing, I mean."

"Then you should get going right away. I'll take care of Bane."

Luna nodded and turned to go, but she only made it a few steps before turning back to say, "I'll see you next week?"

"Maybe we shouldn't. If you come..."

You'll be in danger. That's what he really meant to say, she was sure of it. But she smiled and shook her head, causing her radish earrings to bounce against her skin.

"It's all right. I'm not afraid."

...o0o...

Bane's reaction was wrong by any normal moral compass. Yes, of course it was. Maybe he even knew it, too, after the fact. But I couldn't blame him for it any more than I could blame my father for his actions during the war. Sometimes people transform into fools when they fear for someone they love.

Author's Note: So, I had no idea what a young centaur is called. Foal sounded demeaning, and child just felt wrong. So I went with yearling. XD Not sure it's much better. I actually like this couple as a sort of fling, but I have also come to realize that I just simply cannot write them worth crap.