Chapter 03

• A Centaur •

He cried at night still.

To some it would have been a miracle for the boy to have survived a few weeks, but he continued to live on past that. Through the winter altogether, which was more than just a miracle, it was magic indeed.

A lot of the reason was Dog. Many days he would disappear in the morning coming home at varying times, but always bringing food with him. Harry had quickly learned that it was best to let him hunt alone when they needed food, because he was slow and scared the animals.

But while Dog hunted, Harry learned and adapted. He stayed much closer to the clearing during the day, at first never traveling farther than he could see but as time progressed he gained more confidence in himself. Still, he spent a great deal of time in the clearing watching animals as they would make their way to the stream and drink, gathering wood for the shelter, keeping warm as the days cooled.

The shelter was the real reason Harry lived through the winter. It changed through the whole winter, getting bigger and stronger. The forest floor nearby had stayed relatively clear of snow, but branches laid all around and Harry collected them when it was warm enough and added on to his shelter little by little.

There was one other thing that helped him through the winter. One day, not far from the encampment, in a separate rock outcropping he found an old battered robe of some sort. It was far too big on him (when he put it on he disappeared underneath) and it was worn beyond any recognition. It was pockmarked with large holes and rips, indicating that the man he been attacked by something. Harry did not know this though, and he found an extraordinary way to patch the clothing – the skins on the potatoes stuck to everything when they were wet and they worked quite well when placed on the clothing just after being dipped in water. The discovery was a mistake, when Harry's spilled his water on top of a half finished potato it stuck to the floor and he couldn't get it up.

Their main cuisine was still those potatoes. It was the only sort of food that Harry could catch during the winter, and though none resided in the and Harry kept several, using them to patch everything. It wasn't long before there was a layer of them on the floor and the ceiling, inside and out.

At night, somewhere beyond the tree line there were noises. Harry would hold his breath sometimes, hoping that they wouldn't enter his sanctuary. He's whisper things he'd never heard before, things that made no sense, but they made him feel more comforted.

The warmth that emanated from the rocks was on of the things that kept the shelter warm, but it was far from the only thing that kept them warm all winter. But, it was Dog, however, who found the cleverest way for them to stay warm. Down on the edge of a nearby creek grew some tall plants that looked sort of like hot dogs during the summer. Dog enjoyed collecting them for some reason, and he made a pile of them in his corner of the shelter. As it started to get cold Harry found that Dog's bed was extremely warm at night, while his was not. After some experimenting Harry found that the reason was the hot dog plants. Harry made a bag of the little potato skins and collected them, even though they were really fuzzy, and used them to insulate the shelter so that it stayed warm.

Winter passed, slowly but surely, and Harry was more than a little different by the end of the winter. He was changed, he'd discovered himself in a way that few people do. The dreams, the dreadful dreams of being lost in the darkness, disappeared as the snow melted.

The spring came and everything was refreshed and begin growing anew, Harry was no exception. Being as young as he was, by the beginning of the spring Harry'd grown several inches and his muscles had developed for the quick movement he required moving through the forest. He had begun climbing tree's a lot as well.

He'd once been chided by Aunt Petunia that he wasn't allowed to climb tree's (Dudley had been trying but Harry was the only one that was able to do it). But he didn't remember that now, Vernon, Dudley, and Aunt Petunia were a thing of the past. He thought about them briefly sometimes when he heard noises that sounds like voices. Though, he stayed away form those voices he wanted nothing to do with people because he knew what people were like.

It was easier and safer to move through the forest when he moved through the tree's. Very few of the predatory animals that he needed to be worried about frequented the forest ceiling. Occasionally he had come across a nest in the tree's and he would take the eggs. Though before coming to the forest he'd never eaten raw eggs he found them to be make him feel good if he just swallowed them quickly.

Having adapted fairly well, and finding food was much more abundant, Harry began following Dog again, this time through the tree's. He'd hop from branch to branch and watch Dog below him, seeing how he hunted. It was the best way, seeing that it never disturbed any of the animals that Dog was after and it helped Harry learn to hunt. He never went, not during the first year, he only watched from afar.

There was also the morning strolls he took, going further and further into the forest than he had the previous summer. The scare he'd received from the spiders that were as big as elephants had faded, but it kept him wary. His ears were constantly listening for a chattering in addition to the sounds of voices – which he was always listening for.

During the day's he'd sit in a tree eating while Dog prowled the forest and he'd watch. Creatures, wandered about underneath him unafraid of the creature above who was a part of the forest now. He loved watching the fawn's bound around playing with each other and chasing the tiny animals. Everything was so beautiful at times.

Then there were the wolves. Harry'd never seen wolves before, they were like dogs, but different, shaggy with sharp snouts. They would tear apart the deer when one got far enough off by itself. While this was sickening in it's own right, Harry watched sometimes. Usually when they approached he'd throw rocks at the deer and send them bounding off, but there were times he just watched. The pack would drive sneak up on the animal, staying in one area, though it always changed. They would creep on the target and when it ran frightened, they would emerge from everywhere to chase it down. The fastest of the pack that Harry saw was a black wolf and it usually did the killing. He'd get to the right of the deer and then jump, gripping it by the throat while he was dragged along underneath.

When Harry watched the chases from above he felt exhilarated. He would run between the tree's, like they ran along the ground, until he came to the kill and he'd watch them rip apart the deer piece by piece, feeding on it. Sometimes he'd even drop to lower branches to get closer, but only as far as they would let him. When he got within ten yards the black wolf would raise his head and watch, teeth bared. Dog however seemed to be accepted by them, though not when feeding.

There were other types of creatures as well, some like pictures Harry'd seen in books, and some so much different than anything he'd ever heard of. One morning, as Harry took his daily wander through the forest, he rounded a corner and ran smack into the largest horse he'd ever seen.

It was however, not only large, but unlike any horse he'd ever seen in his life. He'd seen horses, and more than just pictures, he'd seen them on the telly. However, as he lay on the ground he looked up at this horse he saw something even more frightening, a man.

Arms, a face, white hair and blue eyes, is was like no horse had ever seen. He looked like a horse with a man sprouting out. The man-horse stared down at him, his sapphire blue eyes widening in surprise, while Harry looked up with even more astonishment. It didn't take longer than a moment for Harry to react though. The forest had changed him into an animal like the rest and he felt endangered.

In no more than a half a moment Harry was on his feet and moving away from the man-horse at the sort of speed that only death can bring. The man-horse didn't take much longer to react though, and just as Harry moved into a dense patch of tree's he could hear the thunder of hooves raging behind him.

There was a yell, a voice, something Harry hadn't heard clearly since he'd left the normal world. And Harry's pace quickened even more if it were possible. The sound of a voice brought back memories, pictures. The cry, whatever had been said, sounded angry and surprised, just like uncle Vernon before he was punished.

Seeing a low branch Harry grabbed it and swung himself up, scaling the tree like a monkey. It wasn't long before he was lost in the above branches. Though the branch was slick Harry braced himself with vines that hung nearby.

The rumble stopped below and Harry peeked out of his hiding spot to see the man had slowed below him, looking around the tree curiously. Watching from above Harry could see the man-horse trampling the ground and circling the tree continuing to look around. Silently Harry tried to slip back into the branches away from the animal below. But one of the branches swayed and cracked loudly.

"I will not harm you child," the man-horse said as his eyes moved to Harry's hiding spot. His voice was soothing, and unlike any voice Vernon had ever used with Harry. He sounded calm and comforting, even a little relieved to see Harry.

Still, Harry had a hard time believing him. In the right hand of the man was a strange object that looked like a weapon Dudley had once used on Harry. A bow and arrow, but this one looked infinitely more dangerous. "I am you friend," the horse-man continued. "My name is Firenze, I am a centaur of this forest. Please come down so that we may speak. The rings of Saturn told me I would meet a stranger in my own home and here you are. I had not expected you so soon though."

For a brief instant Harry thought of coming down, but his eyes came in contact with the crossbow again and he withdrew into the branches further. Firenze seemed to understand Harry's reaction and looked to his bow, laying it on the ground followed closely behind by the back on his back. Then he stepped back several feet watching for Harry to move.

"I've no reason to harm you child," he said calmly, watching Harry with his big deep blue eyes. His young face was not like any man Harry'd ever encountered. He was young, rough, and rugged, but looked kind still. "This forest is really no place for foals to be running about."

As Harry debated moving one hand slipped from the vine and Harry hopped onto a lower branch effortlessly, but never loosing site of the man-horse. Having lived in such a dangerous forest Harry's curiosity had only grown and seeing a man stuck in a horse's body was one of the most curious things he'd ever seen.

Still Harry had cause to stay cautious, he felt trapped and was not about to drop down to the man-horse. The shelter was a good distance away though, and he would not be able to reach it without the man following.

Glaring down at the man Harry determined what to do. Dog wasn't around so he'd do his best to scare the man away. Taking a moment to think Harry growled as best as he could, trying to imitate Dog when he chased away creatures. His throat rasped at the use, he rarely ever used his voice anymore. But instead of coughing he bared his teeth and growled again trying to be more ominous. The man needed to leave, there was no question about that.

Dog appeared almost the instant Harry growled the second time. It was almost as if he were waiting for some sort of sign. His teeth were bared and he charged down the man-horse without fear. Startled, Firenze reared, his front legs kicking at Dog, trying to keep him away.

Without a second thought, Harry jumped from his limb with a half-human scream that echoed through the woods. He refused to let this beast hurt Dog, and he swung as hard as he could, trying to hurt him.

With the boy on his back and Dog at his feet Firenze did the only thing he could think of, retreating and bucking Harry off. Harry held his grip for the first few jumps, striking the man in a tender spot on his ears more than a few times before he was thrown off. When Harry finally bucked hard enough to throw Harry it only took him another minute to get to his feet again.

Near the tree Harry spotted the crossbow that Firenze had lay there and he lunged towards it, gripping it in his hand and pointing it towards the startled man-horse. Firenze stared, his eyes full of wonder, but his front feet pawing the ground restlessly. "What are you boy?" he asked with surprise.

"Go!" Harry barked, barely sounding human. Though speech was not lost to him he had barely learned to speak before the incident and having not spoken in a year was affecting him.

There was at least a full minute where both eyes locked into each other. But Firenze seemed to be willing to accept defeat and he back away, baffled at how the child was acting. He could barely be seven seasons. His hair was black, dirty and gnarled and his skin was blackened with dirt, but his eyes, his eyes were alive, so very alive. Firenze wasn't sure what to do or how to view the boy, but he finally decided to back down and he cantered off in the forest, leaving the exact way he'd come.

The whole time he kept his eyes on his crossbow warily, it was not something he wanted to be struck with. Though he doubted the boy could load another it would only take one well placed arrow. He could make another of course, but the pack would laugh at him for losing it to such a youthful foal. It was doubtful they'd even believe such a story anyway.

When he was at the range of the arrow he slowed and though to follow the boy. But as his sharp eyes watched he could see the dog, a half breed of wolf, turning to sniff the air and watching him warily. The animal was not something to be taken lightly, it had been living in the forest for a long time and was only barely manageable. Some of the centaurs avoided it because it had the temper of its father but because it had run with its mother for such a long time it was partially domesticated.

When they'd gone a good distance from the centaur, Harry changed course rapidly and quickened his pace. He followed a straight path home hoping that Firenze would not be following him. But Dog had other ideas, and took charge heading on a course that Harry had never taken.

When they finally returned to the shelter under Dog's guide Harry's arm was strained from packing the heavy crossbow and the quiver of arrows (most of which had been lost in the flight) and he dropped it unceremoniously beside his door as he entered the shelter. The arrow that had been loaded in it was loosed and darted across the shelter, cleanly piercing the wood and disappearing through the hole it had made.

Harry stared at the hole and then moved to it, placing his eye up to it. Then he dashed outside, finding the hole again and trying to trace it to where it had landed. It wasn't hard, the colorful feathers that were attached to it made it stand out Pretty good. It was buried in a nearby root, and had embedded itself so deep that Harry could not pull it out.

Laughing, Harry ran back in and pulled another of the arrows from the sheath. He placed it the crossbow and pulled the trigger, just like Dudley had. Nothing happened this time. Harry could see something was different, the string was too far forward. So, breathing excitedly, Harry pulled the strung back with all his might but it hardly budged. After several minutes Harry could not get it to move more than a few centimeters.

Finally, when Harry discovered that he could not set it he put it aside, more carefully this time, hoping to someday be able to use it.

The event kept Harry to the tree's more often. He learned how to move through them almost as agilely as he moved on the ground.

•