First things first. Centaurs are a strange creature, a seemingly hybrid, half man, half horse. However, this is not
always the case. Two centaurs can have a centaur child. A human and a centaur can have a child, too. Horses and
centaurs cannot. End of story.
So, on that train of thought, we now have come to another conclusion. A centaur may mate with a horse, but nothing
will ever happen. Ever. Not once in a million years. If the horse happens to miraculously turn into a female centaur, it is
unlikely she would bare a child, but it could happen. I won't even mention what else mares can turn into when given
some sort of potion. It hasn't happened in years. As in about a million.
Young males, and sometimes older males, keep mares for the purpose of mating. After all, who wants to tell your
potential mate you don't know how to do it? Those are the 'rules' or, as I like to think of them, facts.
I, in fact, have a small herd of mares, if you could call it a herd. About three, I believe. So imagine my surprise when
one day I went out to their field to, well, you know, and one was missing. The youngest, only about a year old, too
young for much. I had never used her. It was too risky to do that to her while the mare was so young. So I didn't.
I didn't see any breaks in th fence, so she had obviously jumped it. I jumped over it myself, and looked around until I
found her tracks. She had stumbled not far from where she had went over the fence, leaving deep scrapes in the earth. I
stared at them and couldn't believe she had gotten so far. She must have hurt herself very much from that fall.
She fell several times after. I began to believe that something had happened to her, maybe frightened her so much
that she fled. But that didn't explain why the other two weren't gone, did it? I searched for an hour, without any sign
of her being close. She had finally gathered her feet under her, and had fled with all speed, it seemed.
Let me get this straight. I'm about eighteen years old, so, contrary to popular belief, I can actually admit things about
my flaws that humans can't. Yay for me. I'm not all that good of a tracker, but I know the basics. This was unlike
anything I'd ever seen, with my mare stumbling and falling so much and so hard, but still moving. So it was a great
surprise when I finally stumbled upon the youngest and most dainty of my mares, lying stretched out on the ground
before me. I almost stepped on her.
Her name was unknown; I don't know their names and they can't tell me, so I don't give them one that isn't theirs.
Her thin coat was blue roan, with white socks on all four feet and a small black scar across her chest, a token from the
barbed wire fence. Her mane and tail were thin, but always groomed and untangled; I had made sure of that. At this
point, however, her mane was ratty and snarled. Her soft brown eyes, almost black, were closed. I was sure she was
dead.
I dropped to my knees, folding all four of my legs beneath me. I gently took her head in my hands, and examined her.
A soft moan sounded from deep within her; it didn't sound like a horse moan. A quick glance at her mouth made me
stop. A green foam covered her lips, and, upon farther inspection, her tongue and the inside of her mouth. I petted her
forehead, but she didn't move.
The potion given to her was something I'd only heard about. I closed my eyes, and searched my memory, for any
way I could prevent what was going to happen. Nothing. There was no cure for the potion that turned horses into
other things.
Then, my mare screamed, a loud, unearthly voice that made my hair curl the wrong way. She began jerking, and her
head was wrenched from my hands. Her transformation was beginning. I reached for her head again, but then thought
better of it. Instead I laid a comforting hand on her neck. Her legs kicked out, and struck me in the side. My free hand
flew to the spot, but otherwise I didn't move.
She began to shrink, her blue coat fading. Her tail disappeared altogether. Throughout it all, she bucked from her
position on the ground, fighting the change that was coming over her. Unearthy wails filled the air as her face, long
and thin, grew pale and short. Her thin black mane stayed, but shortened and thickened. Her fur finally fell from her
body, revealing pale, ivory skin. Her front legs thinned and shortened, and her hooves separated themselves into five
segments. She screamed, a sound that nearly broke my heart at the pain she was going through.
Her hind legs shortened also, and her hooves shrank, then stretched, growing five toes on each foot. Arms and legs.
What a strange thing for a horse to have. My mare, who no longer was one, collapsed, sobbing for the first time in her
life.
Her hair was the raven-black I remembered, her eyes the same hue, but otherwise, the resemblance to the horse she
once had been stopped. She appeared to be around fifteen years old. She lay in front of me, naked. On her chest was a
long scar, running from her collarbone to her mid-chest area. From there I didn't look any farther.
My mare was no longer a horse, but a human.