Carnelian Part One

Fauce had been watching his prey with attentive eyes for over an hour from behind concealing foliage. He had been provided with many opportunities to attack, but hadn't seized any of them so far. Now don’t get me wrong, he normally completed his hunts quickly; with precision and no mercy. But not this time. Fauce didn’t quite know why it was taking so long for him to strike and capture the target. Perhaps it was because this prey was very different from all the others Fauce had hunted before. None of Fauce’s previous victims had featured slightly muscled, freckled arms; none of his victims had been wearing any clothing, and certainly none of his prey had ever had a huge amount of silken tresses the color of brilliant tiger lily flowers.

None of Fauce’s previous victims had been human.

Well, this target wasn’t exactly human, either. He was half-human. A deer centaur, to be exact. From the waist up, he appeared as an intensely freckled, normal human. (Well, besides his large deer ears.) But from the waist down, the prey had the body of a fallow hued deer with pure white spots.

And no matter how many times Fauce told himself that this hunt was the same as all of his previous ones, that the creature sitting in the grove before him was probably unintelligent and couldn’t speak, he couldn’t shake the feeling that catching him for a bounty was the wrong thing to do. He sighed silently and notched his bow with a tranquilizing arrow. The beautiful deer man was sitting peacefully under the shade of maple tree with huge scarlet leaves; playing his curved, polished panflute softly and skillfully. His expressive russet eyes were closed as his slender fingers moved over the holes of his wooden instrument. Fauce noticed that he didn't have antlers, and then remembered that it was far too early in the year for them to have grown in much more then little fuzzy bumps on his head.

Fauce pulled back the bowstring into position, and was reminded of the reason that he so badly needed the money this job would give him. As he moved, the binder around his chest constricted his body, causing him to cringe a bit. Fauce needed the bounty money to finally buy the spell to change his body to match who he was inside. And if he had to capture and sell this centaur like a piece of property, he would do it. No matter how sick it made him feel.

The man who wanted a deer centaur was very rich and was offering more money than Fauce could even fathom. Fauce had tried to convinced himself that this centaur would be well cared for as a wealthy person’s pet, but he knew deep down that this wouldn't be the case. The less he thought about what he was doing and what he was condemning this innocent soul to, the easier this capture would be.

Fauce checked his aim, took a deep breath, and then released the tension on his bow as he let out the breath. The arrow hurtled through the air, straight and true. In the blink of an eye, it had struck its target. The deer centaur’s eyes shot open and he looked, confused, at the black arrow lodged in his arm.

“What the-?” He dropped the panflute and reached over to remove the arrow, but it was too late. The drug was fast working. His hand wavered over the shaft of the arrow as he fought against the tranquilizer, but it overpowered him and his arm dropped. The deer centaur’s eyes slid closed, his whole body became limp and he slumped against the dark trunk of the maple tree.

Fauce quickly dashed over to the sleeping form. He caught his breath when he saw that the deer man was even more beautiful up close. Constellations of freckles graced his cheeks and the bridge of his nose generously. He had soft-looking pink lips, which were delicately parted in his unconsciousness. Fierce, shapely eyebrows arched over his closed eyelids. One of them had a tiny scar, and Fauce couldn't help but wonder how it came to be. He had a diamond shaped face, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. The deer centaur was far more lovely looking than any person Fauce had ever seen before, nevertheless a man. It was almost unearthly.

And that HAIR. Those fiery, bright, dark ginger locks were positively everywhere. They rippled in shimmering waves, surrounding the centaur’s form like a silken cape. Fauce reached out to touch the gorgeous, light-catching mane. He quickly drew his hand away, though, and chastised himself. Such lengthy and abundant tresses were inefficient and unnecessary, he told himself. He didn't really believe it, though, in that moment.

Fauce grimaced as he dragged the centaur’s slack body across the meadow, feeling awful about every rock or root his prey bumped over. He was heavy, but Fauce had a compact, very strong body for his young age. Fauce’s calloused hands gripped the deer centaur’s four ankles as he carefully moved him. The centaur’s shining locks trailed for over a yard behind his relaxed form, almost like a bridal train. Bits of neon green moss peeked out beneath places of the rust colored river of hair.

Fauce let go of him and retrieved his pack from behind the bush where he had been hiding. He pulled out a six inch by six foot canvas sack and unzipped it.

This bag was what Fauce used to transport his larger prey. The bag could easily be folded or rolled up for quick storage, and weighed and looked the same whether it was empty or full. It opened up into a large space, in a case of bigger-on-the-inside magic.

Fauce carefully pushed the centaur’s body into the thin bag, gently sliding him in legs first. Soon, the only thing left outside of the sack was all that flaming hair. Fauce scooped up the thick, shimmering mass in his arms and was astonished at how incredibly soft it was. Tiny bits of moss and a crimson maple leaf that were caught in the satiny strands only served to deepen the hair’s beauty. Almost reluctantly, Fauce tenderly guided the tresses into the bag. Careful not to catch any wayward strands of hair, he zipped up the sack. He then folded up the sack into a small square and nestled it inside of his pack. It was amazing what magic could do. Fauce couldn't even imagine dragging a giant bag with any creature bigger than a badger inside of it through the forest. In fact, the image was quite ridiculous.

As Fauce walked through the forest on his way to the path leading up to the city, he silently prayed that the future owner of this gorgeous deer man would be a kind master. And that the deep foreboding ache in the pit of his stomach would go away.

(Keep in mind that this work is aimed to a trichophilic audience, and contributes to its oddness.)