Auburn brows furrowed before Trowa slowly opened his eyes with a grimace. It was freezing in his room and that only meant one thing; Cathy had felt it was time to open the windows and let in a bit of fresh air. Spring fever always bit her hard when the morning sun came pouring in through the kitchen window with the promise of a warm day it didn't always deliver.

"Cathy?" he called out.

"Yes, Trowa?" she answered. He could hear her bustling about in the kitchen, mostly likely starting breakfast. Today was the day he was to head to the village to do his monthly trading.

"The windows. They're up."

"Of course they are, it's a beautiful morning! I thought it would be nice to air the house out. And what a beautiful day for you to travel to town! You'll not freeze yourself silly like you did last month!"

Trowa had lifted his head while she spoke, but let it fall back onto his pillow. Freezing last month? He grunted as he closed his eyes. He was freezing now.

"Come on, little brother, rise and shine!" came the good natured call through the deerskin flap that served as a door to his room. "I've already milked the cow and turned her out into the field. We didn't get a lot of eggs this morning, but that's okay, we still have plenty to go on. I'll boil a dozen to send with you so you will have something to eat for a couple of days. And cheese and some ham. I don't want you to starve on me."

Trowa sighed as he braced himself for the cold, and then shoved the covers off his long body. He rose from the bed, his lips pulled into a grimace of displeasure as his bare feet made contact with the wood floor.

"You know I hunt for my food while I'm gone," he stated as he lifted a pair of doeskin leggings and stepped into them. He tied them at the waist, and then sat on the foot of his bed to put on his socks and boots.

"I know, but indulge me a little, I like taking care of you. And don't forget to make your bed after you get dressed!"

"You mother me."

"Is that so wrong?" Cathy asked as she pulled out a fresh loaf of bread.

Trowa didn't answer. Part of him wanted to tell her that he was holding her back, keeping her from a family of her own. A husband and children to shower her affection upon. The other half of him jealously clung to her, afraid she would leave him for a husband and children of her own. He was alone in all ways, but one. His sister. He couldn't bear the thought of her abandonment. He felt bitter and selfish, but it was the truth. She was the only person who had managed to wedge into his heart and he didn't have the strength to let her go.

"Trowa?"

"I'm coming," he said. "Still getting dressed."

"Good, I don't want you to eat a cold meal. Do you want me to hook the horse up for you?"

Ducking through the deerskin flap, Trowa simply shook his head no. "You've done more than enough this morning. Do you have enough firewood? To last the week?" he asked as he sat down at the table.

"I've got enough to last me until you come back from your next trip into town," she said as she joined him. She then said the blessing, and they began to eat.

"It's been a week," Michael said as they stood over the bedraggled human body lying next to a tree. They had kept him tied, with the rope around his neck, but Quatre had been too badly injured to even think of freeing himself. The wound on his shoulder was festering; the men hadn't even bothered taking the arrow out until two days ago, thinking that perhaps that was causing the slender blond from being able to return to his proper form. When that didn't work for them as planned, they decided to withdraw from him the meager supplies of food and water they gave him.

His condition was rapidly deteriorating. He was filthy, dehydrated, covered in bruises and welts from beatings they gave him out of their own frustrated greed. Some were open and weeping. His breathing had grown ragged within the past twelve hours, and it sounded like boulders crashing together in his chest with each deep breath he took. The men decided to stop wasting their time and cut their loss; there was no more opportunity to be had with the blond, so they gathered up their gear and began to pack up.

"Let the wild dogs have him, then," Michael had growled as he packed up the last of their tent. He turned one last look over the pitiful creature and heaved a great sigh. "At least I still have his mane to remember him by."

"Aye," Johnathon said as he climbed into the wagon. A smack of the reins and the horses surged forward, pulling the horrible men away from their horrible deed.

The sun climbed higher into the sky and Quatre opened his eyes when the warmth caressed his face. They must think I'm dead, he thought as he trekked the clouds above him with one half opened eye. The other was swollen shut. They would have come back for me by now… Iria, Hilde… I miss you, I just hope you're safe. You're right, men are bad. They aren't to be trusted, and now I see why. He coughed once, weakly, and then tried to shift to a more comfortable position. He felt a slight tickle on his shoulder where a butterfly landed briefly before moving towards his right hand. He could feel the flutter of the wings brush his fingers before it dipped and swayed towards a growth of alfalfa growing further up the field. A warm breeze tried to ruffle his hair, but it was too dirty and matted to do more than flop listlessly against his forehead.

Man has taken over our world… it's not safe to be a unicorn anymore… if I find them, I'll tell Iria and Hilde that they must be human. It's the only way for us to survive. We have to be what humans hate the most, we have to blend in, or else… there will no longer beunicorns left in the world. We are only what God made us to be, we aren't that magical, we can't bring people back from the dead, or grant them wishes like genies. You can't spin silver out of our manes and tails and our alicorns lose what gifts we do have when we're killed. Man can't even be kind to his fellow man. In order for us to survive, we have to be… them.

Turning his head over his shoulder, Quatre let out a soft sigh as he began to fight to survive for the first time since his capture. Drawing his right leg up, he slowly eased over, crying out in pain as he rolled his wounded body until he could reach out with his arm. He wished he could better see what he looked like. Living in a new human body wasn't fun or easy, and he wasn't sure if he had even gotten it right when he changed, but it was done. Those two men hadn't seemed as if he were growing a spare head out of his back, so that meant he must have gotten it right.

I have to… fight. I can't give in Quatre coached himself as he fought to get up onto his new hands and knees. That seemed a far more familiar way of carrying himself, anyway. His shoulder groaned and a mixture of puss and blood began to break through the weeping scab. I have… I have to…

He collapsed onto his chest, his face in the grass as exhaustion took over.

I have to live.

It was early afternoon, and Trowa was busy packing up his stall in a slow, methodical manner. Now and again he'd cast a glance up to people who passed by, but otherwise, he was satisfied to ignore them. He had sold most of his goods the first three days, and then hunted to supply fresh game for the remainder of the week. Cathy had insisted that he buy a spare pair of boots while he was there, but the ones he had were just fine. Instead, he bought her a large bolt of cloth so she could make herself something nice. She always put him first; it felt good to shower her with gifts when he was able. Giving nice things to her made him feel almost human, in a way; he could understand why she felt the need to shower him with gifts and affection.

Clearing his throat, he pushed the warm feelings aside. Never get too close. When you got close, that's when people left you, and the void their absence created was colder than the night sky. And just as big.

He finished breaking down his market stall and hauled the pieces of lumber to his wagon. His Belgian, Oscar, stood patiently in his harness, shaking his mane as if to tell Trowa to hurry. Trowa walked back, gathered up the blanket he used to display his wares upon and folded it up, stashing it along the inside of the wagon before securing his portable stall with ropes. "Almost time, Oscar, just be patient," he said gently. Oscar tossed his head once, the metal on his harness jingling pleasantly. Walking to the front, he mounted the wagon and reached down to fish the reins from their clasp. Oscar lifted his head, his fuzzy ears perked forward. Yes, it was time to go home and when Trowa kissed to him, he stepped out, his head held high as he navigated through the crowd. When they got away from the busy town streets, onto the road that would take them home, he lifted his large feet and broke into a trot, his head bobbing in good nature.

Fingers. That's what they had called these curious things. Quatre lifted his hand and with his good eye, studied the odd digits before letting it flop back down to the ground. He had tried to move a bit more, but the rope around his neck had tightened when he eased too far away from the tree. That, and the agony his new body was experiencing, kept him from trying to explore too much. A wave of despair had crashed over him around noon as the early April sun began to pinken his skin. He was trapped here. He would either die of fever, or starve.

His stomach wasn't even rumbling anymore. When they thought of it, the men had fed him stale bread and something they called mead. The mead was horrible, but Quatre had no choice but to drink, his body was screaming for sustenance. He slowly drug his palm along the fresh new grass that was tickling his bare side. His new hands were like his old muzzle, their sense of touch extraordinary. With a little bit of effort, he managed to pinch a single head of alfalfa and brought it to his mouth. He wasn't expecting the result. Normally sweet and satisfying in his true form, it was bitter and course in this new human mouth. His face scrunched as he spat the offending object out with regret. He loved alfalfa. A pleasant memory surfaced as he turned his head towards the road. He and Hilde would go in search of clover on purpose, just so they could return to Iria, slobbering like rabid dogs. Or, they would turn on each other to see who could wipe more froth on the other. Since Hilde's coat was dark, Quatre always seemed to get the better results on her.

He broke the thought away, his hand coming up to touch his face. His mouth was doing something… funny, on its own accord. Stretched wide, as if in a grimace, but that couldn't be right. I don't feel new pain, he reasoned to himself as his fingers continued to probe at the first smile to ever grace his angelic new face.

Trowa sat, slightly slouched, in the middle of the driver's seat, the reins held firmly in his hand. He was tired; traveling always seemed to wear away at him. At least by the time the moon was up, he'd be home. He propped his right foot upon the ledge and let out a heavy sigh as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. Oscar continued to plod along, and as evening fell around them, what warmth the day had managed to bring began to slip away. Faint jets of steam shot from his nostrils as he lifted his head once more, then he tossed it and side-stepped on the road, letting out a nicker as he came to a halt.

Trowa frowned and lifted the reins. "C'mon, we need to get home," he said. Oscar was about to turn five that very spring, so the young man concluded that he was just feeling his youth along with his anticipation to get home. His head was up and his attention on a hill to their left. Trowa narrowed his eyes and wrapped the reins around the hook. "What is it, boy? Wolves?"

A cool breeze lifted the auburn hair from his eyes as Trowa reached behind him to gather his bow and quiver of arrows. It would be no use running from a pack of wolves. They were too fast for the heavy draft and wagon, and he was too close to home, they would only follow him if they managed to get away. Oscar nickered again, as if greeting a friend and pulled at his harness. Trowa set the brake and stood, his eyes scanning the surrounding area. With the light fading, shadows were encroaching; hiding places were dangerous things with teeth could easily hide. He nicked an arrow into the bow and pulled it, the sinew and wood creaking in a comforting sound to his ears as he narrowed his eyes.

Movement, subtle, just in the umbra beneath the large tree. Last winter's tall grass shifted, stirred again, and Trowa stiffened his back and took aim.

::I don't need a keeper, Wufei!:: Duo warned through the mind link as he lowered his head and shook his mane at the elder keeper.

"Yes, you do," Wufei said. "You're an orphan, you're reckless and with Quatre missing, we have reason to believe that hunters are back. Iria and Hilde were very traumatized by their experience with their recent encounter with Man and had there been a Keeper with them, they would have all returned. Safe and sound."

::I can take care of myself!::

"Three took on Man, two came back," Wufei reminded him as he leaned his back against an old tree. He honestly loved all of his charges; however Duo always made him question his sanity. Never had a colt been as high-strung and independent as this dark bay rebel.

::I'm sorry that had to happen to Quatre,:: Duo lowered his head for a moment. ::He was my best friend, but… maybe I can go find him and bring him home.::

"That's foolish and you know it, Duo," Wufei said. He fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

::He might not be dead.::

"If he isn't, then I'll get word. If he is alive, I will go and get him. Not you." Wufei leaned forward, pushing his back away from the tree. "And yes, you are getting a Keeper. I have a youth who needs the experi…" he sighed as Duo turned and began to trot away from him, head and tail held high.

::The mind link has a range of up to a kilometer and a half,:: Wufei smiled. ::His name is Heero. You'll know him when you meet him. I expect you to be on your best behavior. I saw that, Duo.::

Duo snorted and then began to gallop as fast as his nimble legs could take him.

Wufei smirked and lifted his staff, spinning it casually by his side as he walked along the meadow. There was a spring to his step and a devious little smirk slowly pulling up the corners of his lips.

Duo stood at the edge of the forest, right where the wild apple trees grew. They were already in bud and as far as the young unicorn was concerned, fall couldn't get here fast enough. His mind turned to a sad note. This was where he, Quatre and Hilde would congregate. Taking turns, they would rear up, putting their front feet upon the slender trunks of the trees and rake their alicorns through the branches above, their reward, the sweet crispy fruit. Now, Quatre was gone. Duo cast his glance up to the branches, laughter from his memory echoing through the haze of years.

Quatre was the unicorn that people always painted. White as snow with pale eyes and an ivory horn. His body was lithe and agile, but powerful. However in build, they were all the same. They just came in different colors, contrary to the legends that Man had ignorantly tacked onto them. Duo closed his eyes and leaned against the tree, his ears drooping forward lightly. Wufei had sent the girls, all of them, far into the forest for their own safety. Iria was nearly mad with grief over the loss of her charge and Hilde had fretted herself into colic. Wufei had sat with her for two nights, doctoring her and holding her head in his lap until it passed.

"Duo." The voice held the emotion of a freshly tossed stone, but at the mention of his name, Duo's head snapped up, his ears swiveling back and forth.

::How did you find me?::

"It wasn't hard," came the bland and no-nonsense answer. "You're easier to track than a drunken giant. It's time to go back to the glade."

::I don't want to go back.::

"It's for your own good."

::Where are you?::

"If you can't locate me, then you really need to go back to the glade," the young man answered as he stepped out of the shadows.

Duo pinned his ears back and lifted his head. Just in case the ears weren't projecting his disgust loud enough, he let out a derisive snort to boot.

"I'm not playing games," Heero said as he began to walk forward. "Come on, if we leave now, we can get home before dawn."

He was dressed in a pair of soft leggings and a doeskin tunic, the sleeves cut away to reveal long and powerful arms. His tan moccasins were silent as he stepped through the forest undergrowth that was busy trying to get a head start on the treetop canopy that would do its best to choke it out in a few weeks. A staff was fixed to his back by a strip of leather that crossed his chest. There was something attached to the head that made pleasant jingling sounds.

::I'm not going,:: Duo said stubbornly as he held his ground.

"Do you really think you have a choice?" Heero asked. There was a slight hint of frustration, just on the outside of his tone, and it made Duo give an internal grin. Already under this one's skin.

Duo took a step back as Heero reached out to grasp his mane.

"Duo," Heero warned. He lunged forward, but Duo was faster as he scrabbled backwards. He tossed his head, his amethyst eyes sparkling with mischief while he sized the new Keeper up.

::Well, Wufei did say you needed the experience,:: he taunted.

Heero cut his steely gaze up to Duo, determination etched onto his face as he began to stalk forward. At each step, Duo moved back nimbly, tossing his head now and again in a manner that said he was ready and waiting for anything this humanoid could toss at him. Heero's shoulders stiffened and as suddenly as Duo wheeled about so he could bolt forwards through the forest instead of staggering blindly backwards, Heero pounced like a cat and gripped Duo by the mane. Before the unicorn could swing his head around and jab Heero with his alicorn, the young Keeper used the long chestnut mane to help propel himself upon Duo's back. For one long moment, they stared at each other. Duo into Heero's eyes with a look of flabbergasted shock. Heero with a smug look that matched his equally smug grin.

And then, Duo gave a half rear and exploded into the forest at top speed, Heero clinging to the long mane for dear life.