Page 7 of Hoof It

Seven

Chapter 6

Jimazu

F or the first time in my hundreds of years of life, I’ve allowed myself to be seen by humans. Not once, but twice in one day. I can’t find it in myself to regret it though. I felt something resonating deep in my soul when the brown-haired female looked at me from across the lake tonight. I could almost swear that I heard a quiet voice whisper, “Your mate,” in my ears, but if I heard what I think I did, my whole life is about to change drastically.

Half of me hopes that either I was hearing things, or my sensitive ears were picking up wisps of the conversations that the females were having. But the other half of me? It hopes against all hope that I truly did hear the voice of Pan telling me that she’s my life mate. I’ve been alone so long that I’d love to finally have someone that’s meant for me.

Shaking my head at the dangerous territory my thoughts have turned towards, I continue walking the path from the lake to my home. If she is my mate, Pan will find a way for us to meet one another, hopefully soon.

I stop several times to refill the basket with more fresh berries before I arrive home. Someone, likely the human females, ate most of what I’d picked earlier. I can’t say that I blame them. Fresh berries are my favorite snack. I have a stockpile of them deep in my cave. Each winter when the ground freezes and the wild plants all die, I slowly eat through the food I’ve saved up that summer and fall. Each year, I’m grateful that I ever found the cave system I now call home.

There are dozens of tunnels connecting to my cozy home and I’ve explored them all. About fifty or so years ago I was deeper into the system than I’d ever gone and I even stumbled across a cavern full of old human coins and other shiny things. A different year I found a small cavern that’s deeper underground and cold. That’s where I keep my food stores. It stays cold enough that any berries or fruit I pick stay fresh. I haven’t gone hungry since. I always have an abundance of food to last me all winter.

There’s yet another cavern that you have to walk a path upwards to get to; it houses a hot spring. In the colder months I spend hours in the warm water, just floating and thinking. It’s relaxing and easily one of my favorite places to spend time. The only thing that could possibly make it better would be if I had someone to share it with.

Just like that, my thoughts stray back to the females, namely the dark haired one. For a human, she’s beautiful. Her hair is long and the way it flowed around her while she was swimming earlier was mesmerizing. I found myself wanting to run my fingers through it. In all my years of life, I’ve never felt so drawn to a human before. I don’t know how to feel about wanting her, but I do. I’ve seen her twice; the first time I fled before she saw me. The second time though, I had to force myself away from her.

It’s an odd feeling, wanting someone. Maybe I’ve been on my own too long? I begin to wonder if perhaps it’s time to migrate south and search for others of my kind. As soon as the thought hits, my heart screams at me that it’s the wrong thing to do. Pan once again whispers, “mate” in my ear and I know that leaving and turning my back on my mate would only anger the god.

I sigh. Just because I know that she’s my mate, does not automatically mean that she would accept me. She’s a human, and I’m…not. As a half man, half goat, I doubt that she would be able to see past my animalistic side. She’d likely reject me the moment that I open my mouth and inform her that she’s my fated mate, given to me by the gods of old. She would laugh in my very human face. Or she’d scream and take off.

That’s what most humans do when they see my kind. They screech like a banshee, turn tail, and run away as fast and as far as their weak human legs will carry them. I’ve crept close enough to their herds to hear the way they talk about their rare sightings of me. Most humans are terrified of creatures they don’t understand. They call me a cryptid, a fictitious being pulled straight out of old folklore. They aren’t wrong, exactly. But they also aren’t right. I’m not scary, nor do I eat humans or their offspring. I don’t even eat small animals, for Pan’s sake! Ugh, humans.

I roll my eyes at that thought and continue to my food storage cavern to deposit my now-full basket of berries with the others. Placing the full basket down next to others in the back, I pick up a different one from the front and bring it with me to the main living cavern.

I hang my mask on a jagged rock near my bed before I look around at the cozy cave I call home. It’s a large, open room. The walls are a mix of quartzite and limestone. The quartzite alternates between white and brown. The limestone is varying shades of gray. There are wooden torches every five or six feet that I keep lit year round. Not only do they help chase away the shadows, they add a small bit of warmth. In the center of the room is my firepit, and even in the dead of summer I have a fire going. This deep in the caves, it’s chilly all of the time if I don’t have a fire going. I occasionally use it to roast fruits and vegetables I’ve grown or foraged.

Over the years I’ve used sharp stones to carve into the walls. Once I’m satisfied with a drawing, I crush and dry different plants to turn into paints to add more color to the bland walls. Before the rest of my herd disappeared, I was the one they all came to when they wanted to make their homes look more inviting. At first, they didn’t understand my need to create beauty and they shunned me. But then they saw how much homier my own cave was, and before I knew what was happening, I was being asked to draw and paint for everyone. Until they all disappeared.

I still don’t know what happened to everyone. It happened slowly. One or two of my herd mates would leave to forage and never return. It was so gradual that no one noticed it really until there were only five of us left. The others just kind of accepted that we were all that was left of our herd of fifty. I woke up one morning, and the forest was dead silent. I was the last one. I’ve stayed in the same part of the forest ever since, in the hope that they would one day return home. It’s been over a hundred years since I woke up completely alone.

I drag my eyes from the painted walls to the floor. Years of walking have turned the loose dirt into a packed earth floor. I can’t remember the last time that I was walking in here and a clump of dirt wedged itself into one of my hooves. It helps that over the years I’ve taken the blankets that humans left behind when they packed up their tents. I’ve turned quite a few into rugs, so the floor is covered in a mish mash of all sorts of colors and textures.

Remembering the basket of fruits in my hand, I put it down near the fire and set up the metal grate that I’d scavenged from a human family. I’d seen them place it atop their fire and place food on top of it to cook. When they slept one night, I took it. The next day they left because it was missing and they couldn’t cook anymore. I’d have felt bad, except the fruits and vegetables I cook on it taste incredible, and I can’t find it in myself to be sorry for taking it.

Once it’s warm enough, I dig through the basket and pull out some wild potatoes. They aren’t my favorite, but they’re filling and when I add some wild onions, they taste fantastic. I use one of my horns to poke holes in the potatoes, shuddering as I remember the first time I cooked one and it exploded, which sent flaming hot potato guts all over the cave. I was finding potato in my fur for a week. It took me a couple more mishaps before I accidentally dropped several potatoes on some sharp rocks, and they landed right on the points. I discovered while cooking them that they didn’t explode. Ever since, I’ve used either one of my horns or one of the rocks I keep sharp.

I carefully drop three potatoes onto the grate and turn around in a slow circle. My food will take a while before it’s ready to be eaten. I could take a nap, but I’m not really all that tired yet. My mind wanders to thoughts of the human, again. She has a hold on my lonely mind and I can’t bring myself to want to break it.

I find myself wondering what she would think of my home. Would her eyes shine in wonder as she took in my paintings? Would she be brought to tears at the sight of my food cache? Would she be overjoyed as she hesitantly stepped into the hot spring for the first time?

The hot spring! That’s what I’ll do while my potatoes roast. Despite having gone for a swim in the lake earlier, sinking into the hot water sounds wonderful. I make my way across the room to the passage that leads to the underground spring. It only takes me a few moments to reach it. The passage way grows warmer as I get closer to the spring.

As soon as I enter the cave in which the hot spring is located, I’m wrapped in the warm embrace of steam. I breathe in the warm air and I can already feel my entire body relaxing. I never realize how tense I am until I step hoof in here.

I step into the warm water and walk towards the center, where it’s deepest. Submerging my body up to my shoulders before rolling my head and neck in a circle, I shift my shoulders forward and back to loosen the muscles. Satisfied that my neck and shoulders are relaxed, I walk back to the edge and turn around. My head slowly falls backward until it’s on the ground behind me, and I bring my arms up to rest on the ground and allow my legs to float up.

For a brief moment, I’m able to simply exist. The hot spring is the most peaceful place in my entire home. I’m forever grateful to the gods for placing it here.

Once again, my thoughts turn to my mate. I find myself curious. What’s her name? How old is she? What is she like? Why is she in my forest? Then my mind drifts to the way she looks. And I feel my mating appendage swelling in a way that it hasn’t since I was a kid. It slips out of the hidden pocket where it normally lies dormant. I feel a need to have my hand on it, so I give in.

A soft bleat leaves my throat as I slowly trace my fingers up and down the shaft. Needing more, I use my other hand to stroke the pocket softly, imagining my mate’s hands instead of mine. My eyes squeeze closed and I picture the way she looked as she was swimming in the lake. Her teats were covered but once the piece of clothing was wet, I was able to see everything underneath. Her small nipples had hardened from the chilly water. Her plump belly was furless and tanned. Her mating area was also covered by a cloth, but it was suctioned to her soft looking skin, and I was able to see the outline of her mating lips. The memory of my nearly naked, soaking wet mate has me hard as stone. I switch from tracing my fingers along my appendage to using my whole hand to stroke it up and down. My other hand is fully exploring the pocket and I insert one finger at a time inside.

The pocket is warm and wet. The feeling of my fingers moving in and out combine with the sensation of my hand stroking my appendage and it’s nearly too much for me to bear. I wonder what it would feel like to finally mate with a female. I picture my little mate on her hands and knees in front of me, offering herself to me. Mounting her and rutting her until I fill her with my seed. That’s all it takes for me to reach the tipping point. A shiver starts at the base of my spine and goes straight to the tip of my appendage, bringing my seed with it. I continue stroking and teasing my pocket until my appendage is no longer shooting anything out.

I dip my hands into the warm water to rinse my seed off them and take a deep breath before opening my eyes. After that, I’ve decided that I need to see my mate again. I need to talk to her, get her to see that she’s mine and I’m hers. I’ll stop at nothing to get her to be mine. I’ll start by leaving her mating gifts, the way my father did for my mother before they had me.

My mind made up, I step out of the water and head back to the main cave to check my food. I worked up an appetite and suddenly I’m not sure if just food will satisfy me.

After I eat all of the perfectly roasted potatoes, I get to work. Digging out a decently sized flat rock and another that’s sharp, I spend the next few hours carving and painting. By the time I’m happy with it, I dust myself off and place my mask on my face. I carry the painted rock in my hands as I exit my home. The sun isn’t quite up when I step outside, so I quickly walk to the area of the lake where my mate is staying. Quietly, I place it outside of her tent before turning and walking just inside the woods. The sleepless night is catching up to me, but I want to see her when she wakes and sees my gift. So, I plant my hind end on the ground up against a tree and wait.

I don’t wait long before my ears pick up the sounds of her moving around inside her tent. She’s muttering to herself, but it’s just softly enough that I can’t tell what she’s saying. Then her tent opens and her hand is the first part of her to exit, followed by her head. Her face is more beautiful than I’d thought last night.

Her eyes are the softest blue I’ve ever seen. She has a cute little nose. Her cheeks are covered in tiny brown dots that go from one side to the other. She glances down as she begins to step out of the tent and her dark hair attempts to fall forward, but it’s held somewhat in place but a tie of some sort. Before her foot hits the ground, her attention lands on my gift. A smile teases her full, pink lips briefly as she runs a finger over the paint.

She looks up and I could swear that our eyes meet, but I know it’s impossible. I doubt her human vision would allow her to see me this far away, plus it’s not all that bright in the shady part of the forest where I’m seated.

She exits her tent and crouches down to pick up her gift. She gently cradles it to her full chest before walking to the other tent and calling for her friends. “Frankie, Lexi! Wake up, you need to see this!”

Before they have a chance to respond, I stand and walk in the direction of my home. My little mate liked her gift, and I’m happier than I’ve been in a century. My heart feels light, and I’m hopeful about the future. With those thoughts, I reach my cave and drop my body down onto my bed. I fall into a deep sleep easily. My last coherent thought is hoping that I’ll see my little mate in my dreams.