Centaur fic, circa 1899

[gilascave]

Perhaps this had not been such a good idea. Antaeus looked down the ladder, into the hold of the ship. The mares -- in human form, as all of them were -- were sitting huddled together. The children were all lying among them, heads in laps, some of them sleeping. Every last one of them was too sick to stand.

He'd have been grateful to sink down to the floorboards, as well, and let loose with a groan of sheer misery. But the only comfort he could give his herd was to remain strong in front of them.

He went out onto the deck when he had to be sick.

The others stayed where they were, down in the hold, using buckets which crew members would occasionally come and empty. Antaeus paid them well to look after his family, but there was only so much a handful of humans could do when Zeus himself had not seen fit to create his people with ocean voyages in mind.

Antaeus sighed, silently as he could. He'd had no choice -- he knew that. Had spent two years considering his options and struggling to find someplace, anyplace, he could take his herd. The trouble was, there was simply no place left to go btu across the ocean to America. Over the last hundred years humans had grown into almost every wild place in the Eurasian continent, crowding the centaur herds into spaces too small to support them.

Herds were emigrating anywhere they could. Several had gone to the west, settling in China and Mongolia and Siberia, but they were ill-suited for the cold, barren climates. Shocking news had come back that herd sizes were dropping so much that herd stallions were combining their herds together in order to survive.

Other herds had headed south, into India. Unfortunately, the trek through the desert was equally harsh and deadly as the frigid west. Those that arrived had found land to settle, but the chance of arriving was so slim as to make it a nearly impossible thing.

Africa was worse. Even if a herd managed to cross the Sahara, they only found jungles filled with gorillas. Gorillas, for reasons Antaeus didn't know, would stop at nothing to drive centaur herds out of their home territory. It was possible to fight back, of course, but the constant warfare was a challenge Antaeus did not want to subject his herd to.

That left only those places reachable by boat. And centaurs, unfortunately, did not take to sea travel at all.

Antaeus sat on the ladder and watched his family. They'd been at sea for a week, and were due into port in another twelve days. He knew they'd survive -- it was early spring and he'd spared no expense this past winter in feeding his herd the absolute best he could. He'd had Katelyn, their doctor, keeping an extra close eye on everyone, again sparing no cost for any medications. As a result they were all as strong and healthy as it was possible to be, even the yearlings. He knew they'd all survive.

Right at the moment, he knew most of them were wishing they wouldn't.

It was lucky that they were forced to stay in human form for the trip, at least. Baruch, one of the two-year olds, had hidden behind some barrels and crates and changed forms. He'd become so much sicker so fast, that Antaeus had feared his being able to switch back. Dorca, Baruch's momma, had eventually been able to calm him enough to change, and Antaeus had instantly forbid anyone else from trying it.

His attention was caught by movement, and he looked over, surprised to see Zenon shuffling towards him. The colt shouldn't have been able to walk, he thought. But then, Zenon was a surprise all around. Antaeus smiled, and held his arm out, and Zenon fell into his arms with a grateful expression. Antaeus hugged him gently.

"How're you doing?" Antaeus asked, though he knew what the answer was. Rather, he knew what the truth was -- he was interested in hearing what Zenon would choose to tell him.

The colt shrugged. "Feel sick." His tone held no complaint, Antaeus noted. Nor was there any surliness to his tone, or hint of stubborness that he'd expect from an adolescent colt who was asked even such a simple question. Antaeus gave the boy a smile, which Zenon returned. For a long time they'd all been worried about Zenon, wondering what had gone wrong with him that he'd grown up the way he had. But now, with this journey proving to be as hard as he'd feared, and threatening to be harder still before they could settle in their new home, Antaeus found himself with reasons to be grateful.

Mares were strong, and they'd do everything necessary for the herd, but they couldn't fight human notions. Just traveling from their herd's land to the Greek port city had proven a trial, Antaeus being forced to handle every interaction and conversation in person because none of the businessmen would look twice at a woman who wasn't offering the sort of things Antaeus would have killed somebody for accepting.

That much would have been fine, if his herd had been just a bit smaller or his instinct to protect them just a bit more controllable. But twenty two folks traveling together didn't say "family" to humans. It said two, or even three families, and with most of the mares in a certain range of ages, more than one human had mistaken the group for mail-order brides, and asked the price of some of his girls. He'd barely hung onto his need to strike the men down and kill them, and getting himself arrested wasn't going to get his family taken care of.

Finally he'd figured to change their traveling papers. Now it said that he and his cousin were traveling with their wives, mothers- and sisters-in-law, and children. With two 'patriarchs', their family seemed to make sense to the humans and they were left alone. Zenon was old enough to look like a man, to human eyes, and nobody questioned that he was married with three young children of his own.

It was fortunate Zenon was old enough -- even if he should have been long gone. Colts were always gone by thirteen years of age, when they grew old enough to be dangerous to themselves and others, with their instincts to fight other male centaurs overcoming any sense. But even now, at age sixteen, Zenon had never shown any sign of agression, never shown any hint of trouble.

Maybe, Antaeus thought, Zeus had sent him to help make this journey a little easier.