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Description
Fisch trotted quietly, spindly legs crunching on the leaves. He was heading home to the grove where he would nibble on the leaves and drift off to sleep. Glancing around in the dark, he skidded down a small bank to cross the highway. It was usually empty at night, and there was a deer crossing sign, so it should have been safe. He didn’t even think to react when a pair of headlights came around the bend and blinded him.
Virgil slammed the brakes on his truck. Thank heavens it wasn’t his favorite car, but one he had been handed down. Whatever he had hit he had hit hard, and deer left large dents. He got out and shut the door, running up to the front. First, look at the animal, because it was still there. If it was dead, he could be fined.
He looked down and stared at the thing cast in shadows in his headlights. Antlers, four legs, hooves, human torso. There was a tattoo that looked like it had been drawn in mud on his wrist. He had to stare in confusion for a long time. Some part of him wanted to scream, some part wanted to just drag it off the road and drive on. But he had to help the poor thing, it at least looked like a person, and moreover he had to learn about it. Virgil knelt and felt for a pulse on the side of the animal’s neck. It was still breathing, and still had a steady thrum of heartbeat. It couldn’t be hurt too badly then.
He hauled it into the back of the truck, struggling. Its thin legs were surprisingly muscular and heavy. One felt broken. When he got home then he could treat anything wrong.
~~~
When Fisch woke, blinking, he had a splitting headache. But he also had a blanket, one wrapped loosely around him. He had never had a blanket before. It was soft.
The deertaur scrambled, starting to get up, but collapsed. Oh hells, his front left leg was broken in at least two places, the back, one. He bleated in distress because he couldn’t stand.
Virgil heard it and hurried into his garage, where the creature had been bandaged, splinted, and laid on his guest mattress moved in. “Stop! Shhh!” He saw it trying to stand, bleating loudly, tearing at the bandages on his splint and sobbing in rage and pain. He didn’t want to approach too quickly but had to, to calm it down. He knelt by it and pushed it down gently but with plenty of force.
Fisch bleated louder and tried to bite him, snapping, fuzzy ears bent back. “Let me go!”
The human stumbled back. It could talk. “Shhh! I’m trying to help you! You’re hurt!”
He cried out nasally again as he settled, trailing off into a whimper. “Why?”
“Because I accidentally hit you with my truck. I want to help?” He smiled nervously, and Fisch realized that the person he was staring at was very handsome. By human standards at least. Long flowing hair, large brown eyes, a kindly face. But he wasn’t supposed to be around humans.
“I don’t want to stay and I don’t want your help.” Fisch lowered his head but stayed still, the places where his legs were broken and where he had fallen throbbing angrily.
“I don’t think you can walk with two broken legs…” The young scientist was still slowly adjusting to what this discovery was. He backed away. “…What are you?” While he had a general idea, he had never seen something quite like this before. Someone had, because centaurs decorated fantasy for thousands of years, but he had never imagined seeing one in person. Hell, he had never imagined that they were even real.
Fisch clutched the blanket more tightly around himself as the other man waited. He cast his eyes down and scowled. “A centaur. No, a deertaur.” He reached up weakly to touch his antlers. The creature winced. There was a long crack across one and the tip of one prong has snapped cleanly off. Both were also bandaged and stained with blood. There was more gauze wrapped around his aching head, cushioning a concussion and small but heavy bleeding head wound where his temple had met pavement.
Vigil watched before nodding. “I thought so. Are there… more of you? In the park?”
Their crash had been near the deep center of a large, heavily wooded park. Beyond the one road that crossed all the way through it, no one went very deep into the grove. There were wolves and less than friendly elk and moose in the area, especially in rutting season. It would make sense that, if there were mythological creatures in the woods, they would be in that huge hundred-mile territory.
The deertaur thought for a second before nodding. “Yes. We’ve been there for years, since all the land development in other territories.”
“How old are you?” The human kept his eyes locked with his patient’s as he very carefully edged a hand up to some of the torn wrappings on the nearest leg.
“Twenty-eight.” Fisch noticed very well what he was doing and folded his ears back threateningly. “Don’t touch that. It hurts.”
“I’m just trying to set it. Do you want to heal?” Virgil averted his eyes and tried not to actually apply pressure as he reset the splint. The centaur made a move to kick him and instead gasped in pain. The younger man scowled at him as he finished fixing it, tightening it hard to hold the bones in place. “What happens to deer who break their legs?”
The other man’s face drained of color. He lowered his head. “They die.”
“If you can’t walk you can’t get home, and you can’t get food, and more importantly you can’t run from predators.” He scooted back to check the, thankfully untouched, more complicated hind leg splints. “I you’ll allow me to help, I can put casts on these. And you’ll be ready to leave in six to eight weeks.”
“Eight weeks?” He whined nervously again. “I can’t- I don’t want to stay.” He didn’t want to be thrust into this human world, practically captive, with a stranger he had never seen.
Virgil nodded understandingly. “I’m sorry. I do have a yard you can stay in if you prefer, and it isn’t in plain sight.”
The deer scowled. He wanted to leave, but he wanted to live more. “Fine.” He muttered, pulling his legs close protectively and wincing.
The young man prevented himself from touching it sympathetically through pure will. “I really am sorry. I might be able to get something to help your pain? And I can set it in a cast. It’ll be harder to move, but heal much better.”
Fisch nodded again, flickering his ears. Virgil stood to give him more space, and seemed prepared to leave. He raised a hand tentatively before waving him to stay. “What’s your name?”
“Uh…” He stopped and sat down again. “My name is Virgil Alexandrescu.” The young man rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at his patient. “Can I ask yours?”
“I guess,” They deertaur nodded, pulling his legs close again and wincing. The other man once again felt the urge to put a comforting hand on his thigh. He ignored it to stare directly into his guest’s eyes. “Fisch.” He bent his ears down, flushing, looking away.
“Like in the river?”
“Yes.” He twitched his ears gently and back into place.
“That’s an interesting name. Here, want me to find some medicine?” Virgil stood again, knees aching from sitting on the floor.
“That would be nice.” The creature grunted uncomfortably, resting his head on the cabinet. His temporary caretaker gave him a sympathetic nod and disappeared.
The garage was dark, cold, and dusty but the human appeared to spend most of his time here. He moved in and out throughout the day, bringing water in glass cups and bowls of fresh cut greens from his yard. There were many things offered that Fisch had never even seen. Oranges were his favorite.
Virgil even brought the things he asked for his blessings. It was good to still be able to grind holly with an observer, even if the human had no idea what he was doing. He finally felt willing to ask what was being done a week later, when Fisch was finally adjusted enough to his medication to be moved outside. Under the shade of a well-cared for apple, Virgil sipped on lemonade and watched as the deertaur used one of his knives to scratch symbols into the bark.
“What exactly is this? You’re religion?” He leaned in gently.
Fisch pulled back and nodded. “In a way. I’m a teacher, and a sa’ray.”
“Sa’ray?”
“A magic user. I bless the village so everything goes smoothly. Fruitful foraging, healthy fawns, stable housing.” He explained, finishing a last carving and rubbing a mixture of sassafras oil and a clip of his own fur over them. “Like my father.”
The younger man’s forehead creased. “Magic?” First a mythical creature, then forces powered by leaves, symbols, and prayers. Well, they seemed to go hand in hand. “Does it do big things, change things into others and influence people?” His brown eyes sparkled with fascination.
“Very rarely.” The deertaur frowned, tilting his head. The human was so interested, and was so fascinating. He was cute and naïve. “Most is subtle. I can do one big thing, though, if you can bring me an egg and something loved.” He smirked. No way Virgil could find an egg. Hardly anyone could climb trees.
“Is it okay if they’re cold?” Virgil asked.
“What?” The deertaur looked up, one thin eyebrow arching.
“Is it okay if it’s cold? I have half a dozen in the fridge.” He shrugged, standing. There were grass stains on his jeans.
Fisch looked up and nodded, a little dumbstruck. Humans were so weird. As Virgil left, he tried to focus on the birdsong. This man was not the horror story he’d been told of. It appeared, that after so long, they had forgotten of the centaur’s- and many other magical creature’s- existence entirely.
The younger man returned with a single white egg and a green hat. The deertaur grunted weakly, now embarrassed and unsure. He wrapped the egg in the hat and pressed a hand over it, eyes closing and muttering softly. “Love, feed the hungry. Lost young, forgive. Be free and be useful.”
Virgil watched in utter silence, lips pursed, eyes wide with innocent curiosity. The creature picked up the hat and offered it to his caretaker. “You have to open it.” He nodded, still mystified, and opened the hat. Inside were two eggs.
He grinned excitedly. “That’s amazing. Can you do more?”
“Maybe, soon. But very little is stronger than that.” Fisch shifted unsurely as Virgil set the hat aside. “I don’t know what humans can do with magic. You understand.”
“Sure…” The human sighed. He wanted to know more, this was too much fascinating new information. “I’ll bring you anything you need.”

~~~
“Can humans learn magic?” Virgil carefully unwrapped the cracked antlers of his charge. They were healed solid again with some salve and creative resin work. The legs, after four weeks, were coming along very nicely.
The deertaur shrugged. “Yes. It doesn’t come as naturally, but yes. I hear we took a lot of written magic from them. My tribe uses English for our grimoire.” He raised his eyebrows. The human was already a skilled mechanic, knew at least a little something about the medical field, and now he wanted to learn magic? “Why?”
“It just seems kind of fantastic.” He said no more.
~~~
Virgil allowed the older man to have his privacy aside from necessary medical attention, delivering food, and observing his works. The absence made both hearts grow fonder.
To make up for this probably agonizing time away from his tribe- and this no doubt grievously boring time trapped with a human- Virgil left him a pile of books to devour. Unfortunately, he made the poor first choice of Misery.
“You’re healthy, if a little malnourished.” Virgil observed as he changed the bandages on Fisch’s legs. “You should be walking again soon, but be careful. You’ll probably have a limp.”
The promised eight weeks was nearly up, and the deertaur was well past sick of being bedridden. Virgil was so caring, he was doing his best and Fisch owed the man his life, but he was ready to return to his people. They may well have instated one of his students as the new Sa’ray, his magic was growing weaker day by day because he was away from his proper tools.
“Thank you, I miss home.” He turned his head down.
The human couldn’t help himself, he was attached to the damn thing. He ran his fingers gently under Fisch’s chi and turned it up so their eyes met. “That’s fair. Can… I visit you some time?”
“Human’s aren’t allowed.” Usually the patient was entirely opposed to such an act of foreign affection, but he’d grown so used and so fond of his caretaker’s gentle touch. It almost hurt to see the sudden disappointment flash in the man’s eyes. “Under normal circumstances.” He added quickly. “But you’ve done me a great favor and have been nothing if not understanding and open to our culture.” The man dug carefully through the pile of tools and ingredients he’d gathered since arriving, silently determining that this was incredibly stupid. But, it was worth it. “I need a bone handle knife, some red mud, and a few elderberries. Bring candles at sunrise tomorrow. No later.”
Virgil seemed slightly taken aback at the sudden request, but leapt up. “I can get those. What are you planning?”
“Just go and don’t come back until morning, so I don’t change my mind.”
~~~
Neither of them knew exactly what they were doing. When the ingredients were brought in the chilly, burning orange morning light, Fisch had to take a deep breath. He had to remind himself of the procedures, he had never inducted someone before. He had baptized foals, but never this, and never with an adult.
Virgil had to admit to himself that he had no idea about magic and no idea what the creature had planned, but he did trust his judgment. They met underneath the tree where he’d been sitting for weeks on end and Virgil offered up the things he’d asked for. The deertaur said nothing and set up the mix-and-match candles Virgil had scrounged up from around his house. They make a ‘V’ shape in the direction of the human. He lit them each with a small, smoldering green branch snapped off from the apple tree. Virgil noticed that one of his early apples had been picked from the low branches. The older man took part of the mud and dotted his brows, cheeks, and chin with it. A heavy handprint of it went on Virgil’s shoulder when he was pulled into a polite sitting position.
“You say you wish to be the first human to see my tribe. You’ve given much to the tribe by saving my life, and caring for me until I’m healed. So, you will be inducted with us. Adopted, if you will.” He smiled, trying to hide his blush in the fading dark. “You can come and leave at will. Do you accept?”
Virgil seemed entirely too surprised by the announcement. His cheeks were all ruddy. “I do.”
“Then give your wrist. You’re a healer, you give and take blood.” Fisch tried not to stutter. This was an important ceremony.
The human offered up his hand gently, and only winced a little when the blade was run inexpertly in an ‘x’ across the skin. He had to fight not to pull away, worried he’d bleed out. Fisch cut his own palm. “I’m a teacher. I give and take knowledge.” And pressed it firmly against the other’s wound. Their blood mingled, wounds burning. A few drops landed in the grass between candles. He didn’t say anything, afraid to interrupt.
Fisch raised his other hand, smeared with the remaining mug. Carefully he mashed the berries into it and drew the same winding, sharp pattern that was on his own wrist over the cuts on Virgil’s. “Hold.” He muttered. The human grunted in pain, eyes closing. In pairs, the candles went out until only wisps of smoke were gone. The sun was fully up, the birds beginning to sing. A few more seconds just to be sure, and he released his caretaker’s wrist.
Virgil sucked in a hard breath and relaxed. The wound was healed, gone as if it had never been. The sigil of mud and berries was burned forever into his arm, just like every other tribe member’s. “Welcome.” Fisch bowed his head to him properly.
Still in shock the mechanic- or, the healer now, returned the gesture. He wondered if he was allowed to speak. Jostling over candles, he hugged the deertaur hard. Another handprint, this one deep red, was left on his other shoulder. The sa’ray gasped but willingly wrapped his arms around the new tribe member.
~~~
Fisch could walk properly much faster than Virgil had expected. He mastered his legs, like a foal, in less than a day. There was a slight limp, as promised, but he seemed alright. The human, thoughtlessly rubbing at his new tattoo, was happy to observe him trot around the back yard, eating apples and jumping the fence occasionally. He was almost reckless with it, but did not want to spend any more time here than he had to.
It was late evening when they arrived back in the park. Right where they had been nine weeks ago, Virgil stopped and opened the back of his truck. Fisch stepped out tenderly, holding his hand for balance. A blanket pulled into a makeshift shawl around his shoulders fluttered in the breeze. There was a lot he wanted to say, unable to phrase it and so leaving it to the ages.
Virgil didn’t let a loss for words stop him. He kissed the deertaur’s cheek, smiling. His companion flushed. “Let me pull the truck behind some bushes, and I’ll help walk you back? So I’ll know where to visit.”
“S-sure.” The older man stammered, releasing his hand only timidly. He trotted into the deep green of the roadside bushes of the field they would be crossing, and waited. The truck labored up a small here and behind a bunch of laurels.
For a while, they walked in silence. Virgil switched on a flashlight after a while, only then realizing that he and the deertaur were hand-in-hand again. “You didn’t have someone back home, did you? Someone you loved?” He watched his steps over roots, winding through the unmapped forest floor.
“No. And you?”
“No.” it was quiet again for a while. “I do now.”
Fisch looked up, eyes sad. He didn’t know how it would work, but Virgil cared so much for him. He’d happily try.
Fisch trotted quietly, spindly legs crunching on the leaves. He was heading home finally, to the grove where he would introduce the one who had saved him, nibble on the leaves, and drift off to sleep. Glancing around in the dark, he skidded down a small bank to cross the last highway before home and waved Virgil down behind him. It was usually empty at night, and there was a deer crossing sign, so it should have been safe. He didn’t even think to react when a pair of headlights came around the bend and blinded the man crossing behind him.
The driver slammed the brakes on his truck. Thank heavens it wasn’t his favorite car, but one he had been handed down. Whatever he had hit he had hit hard, and deer left large dents. He tried to tell himself it had been a deer. The shape had been terribly human. Instead of get out, to see if it was still there at all, he ran. He ran out of fear.
Like in a nightmare, Fisch was frozen as he watched this horribly familiar scene play out. Misguided karma rushed away in a flash of silver wheel rims and headlights. Virgil had landed in the ditch. The deertaur couldn’t tell blood from filth and dirt in the dark. His human was limp, broken like a rag doll, and not breathing. They weren’t built near as sturdy as they seemed, the young man had been killed upon impact.
He screamed. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, he hadn’t even yet met the new family he could have had. He’d given blood to the tribe and the forest gods for seemingly nothing. They had fallen in love for absolutely no reason.
Another car passed, startling him out of a wretched loathing wail. He hated crying. With a stiff shake of his head the teacher did his best to pull Virgil up, dragging him out of the mud. They made it into deep brush cover before he had to stop, chest heaving. It was late, the village was still a mile away. He felt drained. This couldn’t be happening.
Taking the cracked flashlight that had fallen out of the human’s slack grip, he gathered a circle of rocks. There was nothing to start a funeral pyre with, but he had something a little more sacred in mind for ones who were gone too early. They were still full of energy, still had good to do.
Fisch did his best to make Virgil look like he was sleeping comfortably, huddled in on himself a bit, eyes closed. He hated to touch him, brushing glazed eyes shut. In between bushes and at the base of a tree, Fisch built the offering circle. He bit into his palm hard and smeared the blood onto the tree.
He’d be left there for the nature gods to do with as they pleased, eaten and reclaimed. Fisch laid down, caring not if predators came in the night. He was so tired now. He sat at the base of the circle and prayed, desperately. It had none of the usual properness, and he sniffled hard once at the end.
He knew the gods acted in mysterious ways, and protected and provided for their own, but he’d never witnessed something quite like what began in the dark then. Crackling like fire, the branches of bushes began to swallow up the one he loved. He jumped, stumbling backwards, as the leaves and branches overtook the circle. They crawled like snakes and he couldn’t help himself, he leapt to the edge and began to tear at vines and greenery. “NO! No! No, give him back!” He sobbed like a child, grabbing a branch covered in thorns and fell back, gasping hard. The entire tree was moving, shifting like a great and terrible animal. His blood smear disappeared in the dark. In horror, he ran.
The deertaur had fallen asleep the moment he stopped to breath, hunching and then falling over as his legs screamed and his lungs burned. He had slept cradled in the roots of an oak, and didn’t wake until the sun was well up. He was too exhausted to be afraid, or at least not aware of it, and he slowly walked back to where Virgil had been left. He wasn’t even sure if what he saw had really happened, or if he had been so shocked by the death and the return that his mind began playing tricks.
He still couldn’t tell when he arrived. The offering was gone, the tree’s back entirely untouched. The bushes were exactly as they had been. A few wildflowers grew around the moss-covered circles of stones. Virgil was gone.
With an air of confusion and frustration Fisch returned to the village, still clutching his blanket close. It was bustling as usual, people weaving baskets, tending to their grass beds, the children running about like wild animals. A few of the younger males were rutting early, butting heads and locking antlers. He couldn’t help but smile, seeing that it hadn’t changed. “Fisch! We were worried sick.” His mother charged, practically butting him over. “You were supposed to be back hours ago! I’m so glad you didn’t die in a ditch somewhere.”
He felt like he’d been slapped. “Mother, I’ve been gone for eight weeks!”
“I know that.” She smacked his arm. “There’s a new tribe member here, he says you inducted him for saving your life! A healer.”
The male’s jaw dropped. “A new tribesman? A human?” His eyes lit up.
“Gods no!” she laughed. “Did you hit your head on the way? He’s just a healer.”
Confused, Fisch left to find Virgil. It had to be him. In the square, a crowd parted for him. In the center was his human. Human no more. A deertaur, dark brown and sleek with an impressive set of antlers (a sign of virility) waited for him. He didn’t know how to react, he was still so numb.
As soon as Virgil saw him, he rushed over on the shaky legs of a newborn buck. His eyes gleamed. Fisch was still staring when the deertaur pushed their lips together, to the ‘oohs of the unsuspecting crowd. A few leaves sprouted out of the bone on the younger man’s antlers. His mouth tasted like sassafras. “They liked your offering.” He whispered huskily. “Thank you.”

Description
Fisch trotted quietly, spindly legs crunching on the leaves. He was heading home to the grove where he would nibble on the leaves and drift off to sleep. Glancing around in the dark, he skidded down a small bank to cross the highway. It was usually empty at night, and there was a deer crossing sign, so it should have been safe. He didn’t even think to react when a pair of headlights came around the bend and blinded him.
Virgil slammed the brakes on his truck. Thank heavens it wasn’t his favorite car, but one he had been handed down. Whatever he had hit he had hit hard, and deer left large dents. He got out and shut the door, running up to the front. First, look at the animal, because it was still there. If it was dead, he could be fined.
He looked down and stared at the thing cast in shadows in his headlights. Antlers, four legs, hooves, human torso. There was a tattoo that looked like it had been drawn in mud on his wrist. He had to stare in confusion for a long time. Some part of him wanted to scream, some part wanted to just drag it off the road and drive on. But he had to help the poor thing, it at least looked like a person, and moreover he had to learn about it. Virgil knelt and felt for a pulse on the side of the animal’s neck. It was still breathing, and still had a steady thrum of heartbeat. It couldn’t be hurt too badly then.
He hauled it into the back of the truck, struggling. Its thin legs were surprisingly muscular and heavy. One felt broken. When he got home then he could treat anything wrong.
~~~
When Fisch woke, blinking, he had a splitting headache. But he also had a blanket, one wrapped loosely around him. He had never had a blanket before. It was soft.
The deertaur scrambled, starting to get up, but collapsed. Oh hells, his front left leg was broken in at least two places, the back, one. He bleated in distress because he couldn’t stand.
Virgil heard it and hurried into his garage, where the creature had been bandaged, splinted, and laid on his guest mattress moved in. “Stop! Shhh!” He saw it trying to stand, bleating loudly, tearing at the bandages on his splint and sobbing in rage and pain. He didn’t want to approach too quickly but had to, to calm it down. He knelt by it and pushed it down gently but with plenty of force.
Fisch bleated louder and tried to bite him, snapping, fuzzy ears bent back. “Let me go!”
The human stumbled back. It could talk. “Shhh! I’m trying to help you! You’re hurt!”
He cried out nasally again as he settled, trailing off into a whimper. “Why?”
“Because I accidentally hit you with my truck. I want to help?” He smiled nervously, and Fisch realized that the person he was staring at was very handsome. By human standards at least. Long flowing hair, large brown eyes, a kindly face. But he wasn’t supposed to be around humans.
“I don’t want to stay and I don’t want your help.” Fisch lowered his head but stayed still, the places where his legs were broken and where he had fallen throbbing angrily.
“I don’t think you can walk with two broken legs…” The young scientist was still slowly adjusting to what this discovery was. He backed away. “…What are you?” While he had a general idea, he had never seen something quite like this before. Someone had, because centaurs decorated fantasy for thousands of years, but he had never imagined seeing one in person. Hell, he had never imagined that they were even real.
Fisch clutched the blanket more tightly around himself as the other man waited. He cast his eyes down and scowled. “A centaur. No, a deertaur.” He reached up weakly to touch his antlers. The creature winced. There was a long crack across one and the tip of one prong has snapped cleanly off. Both were also bandaged and stained with blood. There was more gauze wrapped around his aching head, cushioning a concussion and small but heavy bleeding head wound where his temple had met pavement.
Vigil watched before nodding. “I thought so. Are there… more of you? In the park?”
Their crash had been near the deep center of a large, heavily wooded park. Beyond the one road that crossed all the way through it, no one went very deep into the grove. There were wolves and less than friendly elk and moose in the area, especially in rutting season. It would make sense that, if there were mythological creatures in the woods, they would be in that huge hundred-mile territory.
The deertaur thought for a second before nodding. “Yes. We’ve been there for years, since all the land development in other territories.”
“How old are you?” The human kept his eyes locked with his patient’s as he very carefully edged a hand up to some of the torn wrappings on the nearest leg.
“Twenty-eight.” Fisch noticed very well what he was doing and folded his ears back threateningly. “Don’t touch that. It hurts.”
“I’m just trying to set it. Do you want to heal?” Virgil averted his eyes and tried not to actually apply pressure as he reset the splint. The centaur made a move to kick him and instead gasped in pain. The younger man scowled at him as he finished fixing it, tightening it hard to hold the bones in place. “What happens to deer who break their legs?”
The other man’s face drained of color. He lowered his head. “They die.”
“If you can’t walk you can’t get home, and you can’t get food, and more importantly you can’t run from predators.” He scooted back to check the, thankfully untouched, more complicated hind leg splints. “I you’ll allow me to help, I can put casts on these. And you’ll be ready to leave in six to eight weeks.”
“Eight weeks?” He whined nervously again. “I can’t- I don’t want to stay.” He didn’t want to be thrust into this human world, practically captive, with a stranger he had never seen.
Virgil nodded understandingly. “I’m sorry. I do have a yard you can stay in if you prefer, and it isn’t in plain sight.”
The deer scowled. He wanted to leave, but he wanted to live more. “Fine.” He muttered, pulling his legs close protectively and wincing.
The young man prevented himself from touching it sympathetically through pure will. “I really am sorry. I might be able to get something to help your pain? And I can set it in a cast. It’ll be harder to move, but heal much better.”
Fisch nodded again, flickering his ears. Virgil stood to give him more space, and seemed prepared to leave. He raised a hand tentatively before waving him to stay. “What’s your name?”
“Uh…” He stopped and sat down again. “My name is Virgil Alexandrescu.” The young man rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at his patient. “Can I ask yours?”
“I guess,” They deertaur nodded, pulling his legs close again and wincing. The other man once again felt the urge to put a comforting hand on his thigh. He ignored it to stare directly into his guest’s eyes. “Fisch.” He bent his ears down, flushing, looking away.
“Like in the river?”
“Yes.” He twitched his ears gently and back into place.
“That’s an interesting name. Here, want me to find some medicine?” Virgil stood again, knees aching from sitting on the floor.
“That would be nice.” The creature grunted uncomfortably, resting his head on the cabinet. His temporary caretaker gave him a sympathetic nod and disappeared.
The garage was dark, cold, and dusty but the human appeared to spend most of his time here. He moved in and out throughout the day, bringing water in glass cups and bowls of fresh cut greens from his yard. There were many things offered that Fisch had never even seen. Oranges were his favorite.
Virgil even brought the things he asked for his blessings. It was good to still be able to grind holly with an observer, even if the human had no idea what he was doing. He finally felt willing to ask what was being done a week later, when Fisch was finally adjusted enough to his medication to be moved outside. Under the shade of a well-cared for apple, Virgil sipped on lemonade and watched as the deertaur used one of his knives to scratch symbols into the bark.
“What exactly is this? You’re religion?” He leaned in gently.
Fisch pulled back and nodded. “In a way. I’m a teacher, and a sa’ray.”
“Sa’ray?”
“A magic user. I bless the village so everything goes smoothly. Fruitful foraging, healthy fawns, stable housing.” He explained, finishing a last carving and rubbing a mixture of sassafras oil and a clip of his own fur over them. “Like my father.”
The younger man’s forehead creased. “Magic?” First a mythical creature, then forces powered by leaves, symbols, and prayers. Well, they seemed to go hand in hand. “Does it do big things, change things into others and influence people?” His brown eyes sparkled with fascination.
“Very rarely.” The deertaur frowned, tilting his head. The human was so interested, and was so fascinating. He was cute and naïve. “Most is subtle. I can do one big thing, though, if you can bring me an egg and something loved.” He smirked. No way Virgil could find an egg. Hardly anyone could climb trees.
“Is it okay if they’re cold?” Virgil asked.
“What?” The deertaur looked up, one thin eyebrow arching.
“Is it okay if it’s cold? I have half a dozen in the fridge.” He shrugged, standing. There were grass stains on his jeans.
Fisch looked up and nodded, a little dumbstruck. Humans were so weird. As Virgil left, he tried to focus on the birdsong. This man was not the horror story he’d been told of. It appeared, that after so long, they had forgotten of the centaur’s- and many other magical creature’s- existence entirely.
The younger man returned with a single white egg and a green hat. The deertaur grunted weakly, now embarrassed and unsure. He wrapped the egg in the hat and pressed a hand over it, eyes closing and muttering softly. “Love, feed the hungry. Lost young, forgive. Be free and be useful.”
Virgil watched in utter silence, lips pursed, eyes wide with innocent curiosity. The creature picked up the hat and offered it to his caretaker. “You have to open it.” He nodded, still mystified, and opened the hat. Inside were two eggs.
He grinned excitedly. “That’s amazing. Can you do more?”
“Maybe, soon. But very little is stronger than that.” Fisch shifted unsurely as Virgil set the hat aside. “I don’t know what humans can do with magic. You understand.”
“Sure…” The human sighed. He wanted to know more, this was too much fascinating new information. “I’ll bring you anything you need.”

~~~
“Can humans learn magic?” Virgil carefully unwrapped the cracked antlers of his charge. They were healed solid again with some salve and creative resin work. The legs, after four weeks, were coming along very nicely.
The deertaur shrugged. “Yes. It doesn’t come as naturally, but yes. I hear we took a lot of written magic from them. My tribe uses English for our grimoire.” He raised his eyebrows. The human was already a skilled mechanic, knew at least a little something about the medical field, and now he wanted to learn magic? “Why?”
“It just seems kind of fantastic.” He said no more.
~~~
Virgil allowed the older man to have his privacy aside from necessary medical attention, delivering food, and observing his works. The absence made both hearts grow fonder.
To make up for this probably agonizing time away from his tribe- and this no doubt grievously boring time trapped with a human- Virgil left him a pile of books to devour. Unfortunately, he made the poor first choice of Misery.
“You’re healthy, if a little malnourished.” Virgil observed as he changed the bandages on Fisch’s legs. “You should be walking again soon, but be careful. You’ll probably have a limp.”
The promised eight weeks was nearly up, and the deertaur was well past sick of being bedridden. Virgil was so caring, he was doing his best and Fisch owed the man his life, but he was ready to return to his people. They may well have instated one of his students as the new Sa’ray, his magic was growing weaker day by day because he was away from his proper tools.
“Thank you, I miss home.” He turned his head down.
The human couldn’t help himself, he was attached to the damn thing. He ran his fingers gently under Fisch’s chi and turned it up so their eyes met. “That’s fair. Can… I visit you some time?”
“Human’s aren’t allowed.” Usually the patient was entirely opposed to such an act of foreign affection, but he’d grown so used and so fond of his caretaker’s gentle touch. It almost hurt to see the sudden disappointment flash in the man’s eyes. “Under normal circumstances.” He added quickly. “But you’ve done me a great favor and have been nothing if not understanding and open to our culture.” The man dug carefully through the pile of tools and ingredients he’d gathered since arriving, silently determining that this was incredibly stupid. But, it was worth it. “I need a bone handle knife, some red mud, and a few elderberries. Bring candles at sunrise tomorrow. No later.”
Virgil seemed slightly taken aback at the sudden request, but leapt up. “I can get those. What are you planning?”
“Just go and don’t come back until morning, so I don’t change my mind.”
~~~
Neither of them knew exactly what they were doing. When the ingredients were brought in the chilly, burning orange morning light, Fisch had to take a deep breath. He had to remind himself of the procedures, he had never inducted someone before. He had baptized foals, but never this, and never with an adult.
Virgil had to admit to himself that he had no idea about magic and no idea what the creature had planned, but he did trust his judgment. They met underneath the tree where he’d been sitting for weeks on end and Virgil offered up the things he’d asked for. The deertaur said nothing and set up the mix-and-match candles Virgil had scrounged up from around his house. They make a ‘V’ shape in the direction of the human. He lit them each with a small, smoldering green branch snapped off from the apple tree. Virgil noticed that one of his early apples had been picked from the low branches. The older man took part of the mud and dotted his brows, cheeks, and chin with it. A heavy handprint of it went on Virgil’s shoulder when he was pulled into a polite sitting position.
“You say you wish to be the first human to see my tribe. You’ve given much to the tribe by saving my life, and caring for me until I’m healed. So, you will be inducted with us. Adopted, if you will.” He smiled, trying to hide his blush in the fading dark. “You can come and leave at will. Do you accept?”
Virgil seemed entirely too surprised by the announcement. His cheeks were all ruddy. “I do.”
“Then give your wrist. You’re a healer, you give and take blood.” Fisch tried not to stutter. This was an important ceremony.
The human offered up his hand gently, and only winced a little when the blade was run inexpertly in an ‘x’ across the skin. He had to fight not to pull away, worried he’d bleed out. Fisch cut his own palm. “I’m a teacher. I give and take knowledge.” And pressed it firmly against the other’s wound. Their blood mingled, wounds burning. A few drops landed in the grass between candles. He didn’t say anything, afraid to interrupt.
Fisch raised his other hand, smeared with the remaining mug. Carefully he mashed the berries into it and drew the same winding, sharp pattern that was on his own wrist over the cuts on Virgil’s. “Hold.” He muttered. The human grunted in pain, eyes closing. In pairs, the candles went out until only wisps of smoke were gone. The sun was fully up, the birds beginning to sing. A few more seconds just to be sure, and he released his caretaker’s wrist.
Virgil sucked in a hard breath and relaxed. The wound was healed, gone as if it had never been. The sigil of mud and berries was burned forever into his arm, just like every other tribe member’s. “Welcome.” Fisch bowed his head to him properly.
Still in shock the mechanic- or, the healer now, returned the gesture. He wondered if he was allowed to speak. Jostling over candles, he hugged the deertaur hard. Another handprint, this one deep red, was left on his other shoulder. The sa’ray gasped but willingly wrapped his arms around the new tribe member.
~~~
Fisch could walk properly much faster than Virgil had expected. He mastered his legs, like a foal, in less than a day. There was a slight limp, as promised, but he seemed alright. The human, thoughtlessly rubbing at his new tattoo, was happy to observe him trot around the back yard, eating apples and jumping the fence occasionally. He was almost reckless with it, but did not want to spend any more time here than he had to.
It was late evening when they arrived back in the park. Right where they had been nine weeks ago, Virgil stopped and opened the back of his truck. Fisch stepped out tenderly, holding his hand for balance. A blanket pulled into a makeshift shawl around his shoulders fluttered in the breeze. There was a lot he wanted to say, unable to phrase it and so leaving it to the ages.
Virgil didn’t let a loss for words stop him. He kissed the deertaur’s cheek, smiling. His companion flushed. “Let me pull the truck behind some bushes, and I’ll help walk you back? So I’ll know where to visit.”
“S-sure.” The older man stammered, releasing his hand only timidly. He trotted into the deep green of the roadside bushes of the field they would be crossing, and waited. The truck labored up a small here and behind a bunch of laurels.
For a while, they walked in silence. Virgil switched on a flashlight after a while, only then realizing that he and the deertaur were hand-in-hand again. “You didn’t have someone back home, did you? Someone you loved?” He watched his steps over roots, winding through the unmapped forest floor.
“No. And you?”
“No.” it was quiet again for a while. “I do now.”
Fisch looked up, eyes sad. He didn’t know how it would work, but Virgil cared so much for him. He’d happily try.
Fisch trotted quietly, spindly legs crunching on the leaves. He was heading home finally, to the grove where he would introduce the one who had saved him, nibble on the leaves, and drift off to sleep. Glancing around in the dark, he skidded down a small bank to cross the last highway before home and waved Virgil down behind him. It was usually empty at night, and there was a deer crossing sign, so it should have been safe. He didn’t even think to react when a pair of headlights came around the bend and blinded the man crossing behind him.
The driver slammed the brakes on his truck. Thank heavens it wasn’t his favorite car, but one he had been handed down. Whatever he had hit he had hit hard, and deer left large dents. He tried to tell himself it had been a deer. The shape had been terribly human. Instead of get out, to see if it was still there at all, he ran. He ran out of fear.
Like in a nightmare, Fisch was frozen as he watched this horribly familiar scene play out. Misguided karma rushed away in a flash of silver wheel rims and headlights. Virgil had landed in the ditch. The deertaur couldn’t tell blood from filth and dirt in the dark. His human was limp, broken like a rag doll, and not breathing. They weren’t built near as sturdy as they seemed, the young man had been killed upon impact.
He screamed. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, he hadn’t even yet met the new family he could have had. He’d given blood to the tribe and the forest gods for seemingly nothing. They had fallen in love for absolutely no reason.
Another car passed, startling him out of a wretched loathing wail. He hated crying. With a stiff shake of his head the teacher did his best to pull Virgil up, dragging him out of the mud. They made it into deep brush cover before he had to stop, chest heaving. It was late, the village was still a mile away. He felt drained. This couldn’t be happening.
Taking the cracked flashlight that had fallen out of the human’s slack grip, he gathered a circle of rocks. There was nothing to start a funeral pyre with, but he had something a little more sacred in mind for ones who were gone too early. They were still full of energy, still had good to do.
Fisch did his best to make Virgil look like he was sleeping comfortably, huddled in on himself a bit, eyes closed. He hated to touch him, brushing glazed eyes shut. In between bushes and at the base of a tree, Fisch built the offering circle. He bit into his palm hard and smeared the blood onto the tree.
He’d be left there for the nature gods to do with as they pleased, eaten and reclaimed. Fisch laid down, caring not if predators came in the night. He was so tired now. He sat at the base of the circle and prayed, desperately. It had none of the usual properness, and he sniffled hard once at the end.
He knew the gods acted in mysterious ways, and protected and provided for their own, but he’d never witnessed something quite like what began in the dark then. Crackling like fire, the branches of bushes began to swallow up the one he loved. He jumped, stumbling backwards, as the leaves and branches overtook the circle. They crawled like snakes and he couldn’t help himself, he leapt to the edge and began to tear at vines and greenery. “NO! No! No, give him back!” He sobbed like a child, grabbing a branch covered in thorns and fell back, gasping hard. The entire tree was moving, shifting like a great and terrible animal. His blood smear disappeared in the dark. In horror, he ran.
The deertaur had fallen asleep the moment he stopped to breath, hunching and then falling over as his legs screamed and his lungs burned. He had slept cradled in the roots of an oak, and didn’t wake until the sun was well up. He was too exhausted to be afraid, or at least not aware of it, and he slowly walked back to where Virgil had been left. He wasn’t even sure if what he saw had really happened, or if he had been so shocked by the death and the return that his mind began playing tricks.
He still couldn’t tell when he arrived. The offering was gone, the tree’s back entirely untouched. The bushes were exactly as they had been. A few wildflowers grew around the moss-covered circles of stones. Virgil was gone.
With an air of confusion and frustration Fisch returned to the village, still clutching his blanket close. It was bustling as usual, people weaving baskets, tending to their grass beds, the children running about like wild animals. A few of the younger males were rutting early, butting heads and locking antlers. He couldn’t help but smile, seeing that it hadn’t changed. “Fisch! We were worried sick.” His mother charged, practically butting him over. “You were supposed to be back hours ago! I’m so glad you didn’t die in a ditch somewhere.”
He felt like he’d been slapped. “Mother, I’ve been gone for eight weeks!”
“I know that.” She smacked his arm. “There’s a new tribe member here, he says you inducted him for saving your life! A healer.”
The male’s jaw dropped. “A new tribesman? A human?” His eyes lit up.
“Gods no!” she laughed. “Did you hit your head on the way? He’s just a healer.”
Confused, Fisch left to find Virgil. It had to be him. In the square, a crowd parted for him. In the center was his human. Human no more. A deertaur, dark brown and sleek with an impressive set of antlers (a sign of virility) waited for him. He didn’t know how to react, he was still so numb.
As soon as Virgil saw him, he rushed over on the shaky legs of a newborn buck. His eyes gleamed. Fisch was still staring when the deertaur pushed their lips together, to the ‘oohs of the unsuspecting crowd. A few leaves sprouted out of the bone on the younger man’s antlers. His mouth tasted like sassafras. “They liked your offering.” He whispered huskily. “Thank you.”