He gets left out to his hunger and thirst twice more. Once, because his flanks aren't for the grubby ranch hands to pet, and once, because he literally bit the hand that fed him. He's not an animal, anyone who tries to give him apple slices as treats as if he is one deserves what's coming to them. It's after a week of not giving them a reason to withhold food and water, that he is declared tamed enough to be moved from his post to the stable where they keep the other centaurs.
He hasn't seen any of his own kind up close since his capture. Occasionally he'll see somebody being rushed from one place in the ranch to another off in the distance, but they've been keeping him isolated. Maybe they were worried he'd spread unrest. Despite how they treat them as laborers, pets, or vehicles for entertainment, the humans in charge of breaking them, seem to be very aware of how dangerous they can be if they put their minds to it.
One of the ranch hands leads him to one of a the few big stables he's been able to see from the post. The relief from the noon day sun stepping inside provides is immediately counteracted by the smell of too many people cooped up in too small of a place. Tiny stalls line the walls of the room he's taken into. Each one just barely big enough for a full grown centaur to turn around in. Tall sturdy gates with sharp points prevent anyone that doesn't want to gut themselves from clambering out, and floor to ceiling walls on either side seem more to prevent fraternization than to grant the occupants any kind of privacy.
Curious eyes follow him as he's led by. Most of the stalls are empty at this time of day for various reasons, but those that aren't, want to get a good look at the new guy. Keith is just as curious about them. One of the things he can't help noticing is that most don't have their arms tied back in either ropes like himself or the fancier leather holders he knows the humans prefer they wear. The ranch hand sees him staring, "When we can trust you. You'll be allowed to stay in your stall without a lead too," He says. Keith snorts. He'll escape long before they get to that point.
The stall they stop at is just as small as the rest. Keith briefly consider stomping with his front hooves and making a run for it, but he knows he'd never be able to make it out from this deep in the Ranch in broad daylight without getting spotted and caught again. He reluctantly enters the stall, and his lead is tied off to a bar that looks specially made for this exact purpose. He's pissed, when he realizes that the hand tied it too short for him to make full use of the already limited space provided. Keith's forced to stand right beside the gate, without enough slack to even turn around. Bastard.
.
"Keith?" Keith shakes awake, blinking blearily. He doesn't remember falling asleep, "Is that you?"
He looks up and is greeted by a sight he's been dreaming about for a year, "Shiro!" Keith stumbles to his feet, kicking and bumping the stall walls in his haste to get up.
"Woah there, buddy. Calm down, it's okay," Keith hears Shiro's words, but he can't. Yanking roughly at the ropes binding his arms, hooves clacking on the hard floor, as he all but dances in place. Shiro's here, after all this time. Alive on the other side of the gate, and all he wants to do is hug him tight and never let go. A big hand cups the back of his head and drags him forward, until his nose is buried into Shiro's chest, "Hey now, slow down for me," Shiro says softly.
Keith takes a shuddery breath and finally manages to hold himself still, "You're okay," He whispers, pressing into the other body. Shiro has always been bigger than him, half a hand at the withers and even more in the upper body leaves Keith at about eye level with Shiro's pecs.
There is a humorless laugh from above him, "I guess, for some definitions of the word," Keith pulls against the hand holding him until he's allowed to lean back and look up. He actually processes something beyond the fact that it's Shiro looking down at him this time. There is a shock of white in Shiro's formerly all black head hair, a nasty looking scar bisecting his nose, and a sad look in his grey eyes that doesn't belong there. What have they done to him?
Shiro opens his mouth to says something, but is cut off by another voice, "You know this trouble maker, Champion?" They both turn to look down at the unwelcome interrupter. Another one of the ranch hands, just as unrecognizable to him as the rest.
"He's a friend," Shiro says. They're more than that, have been for a long time, but he's fine with not sharing that with this human. None of his business what Keith and Shiro are to each other.
The human scowls at Keith, "You should pick better friends. This one's about one step away from being more trouble than he's worth." Keith scowls back at that, and pushes closer to Shiro, the gate spikes dig into his stomach but he ignores them. If he's so much trouble, maybe they should just set him free. He didn't ask to be captured, "Come on, enough dallying, you have places to be."
Shiro looks between the hand and Keith, "Can I just have a minute more? We haven't seen each other in a long time." Shiro asks. Keith can't help the way his back hoof stomps at that. The bigger stallion shouldn't have to ask permission to stay with him like some sort of colt, especially not from a human.
"No. Now move, before we mark that one down as a bad influence too." Shiro gives Keith's neck a squeeze, but backs away to follow the human as told.
"Shiro?" Keith calls after him, but the other stallion doesn't look back.
It's not until the sound of Shiro's hooves on the hard ground have faded that Keith realizes something glaringly obvious. Shiro's missing an arm.
End Note:
The Ranch renames the centaurs they capture. Part of breaking down their identities.
I'm thinking maybe one or two more parts to this story. Maybe more if I get a real wild hare.