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"Horse Tales"Written By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Yaoi, Very AU, so very AU it's AD, another
dimension. The GW boys are horses. My apologies. Please heed the warning. Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 6x5 Summary: A few lucky stallion purebreds are given a second chance at the Horse Haven Sanc-tuary. A/N: In defense of my writing this extreme version
of a GW story… Waterlily and Snowdragon made me do it, heh, heh… " Horse Tales" A/N: I dedicate this chapter to Waterlily for all her funny, funny ideas and contribution of Quatre's dowry trunk, and for her steadfast editing. Chapter Seven- Trouble in Paradise (o) Wufei's POV "No way!" he whinnied. Number Two didn't believe me when I said I understood the language of humans. "It is true, believe me or not." "Not what I meant. Aw, don't go flying off the handle in some rage or the other." Why would he assume I'd do such a thing? I was under perfect control. I never "flew", either. "I was talking about what you'd said, that the humans still think 'Ro's dangerous. One little incident with a stupid kid and they blow it outta proportion." "They are aware of our greater power and fear the day they think we realize how little it takes to kill them." This was one of the secret truths the aged masters taught me. Why I was sharing this with this rather ordinary stallion, with the extraordinary hair, I didn't know. "Huh. Well, nothing's gonna mess with this setup. It's fat city." His manner of speech perplexed me and Number Three, who'd been watching us, knew it. He shook his mane and curled a lip. "You'll catch on to the urban lingo." I wanted to do nothing of the sort. "We'll fight fire with fire!" Number Two ranted on. "What?" Number One woke up to the conversation. "Um, sorry, 'Ro. I meant when things get desperate we'll, ah-" "Respond in like manner. I have seen men stop a grass fire by burning paths around it." I snorted, letting him know just how unlikely it would be for us to fight the humans over anything and change their course of action. Unlocking the mystery to human speech, opened a way to a confusion of proceedings. They often didn't do what they said they would. I had always known I was special. Human speech, a confusion of gibberish and single, barked commands to every other living creature, made sense to me. Generally. As one would expect, much of the time humans had nothing of interest or importance to say, but occasionally they made their plans clear. Looking back, I could see how this gift had been both a good thing and a bad. I'd failed to mount Meiran, the perfect mate to extend the Dragon clan into the future. I had had no interest in females, preferring to train for the march to war and to battle. Why couldn't they just use me for what I was best qualified to do? Imagine my shock then when I discovered I was to be given away. Not sold-given away. For free! The injustice! I was worth something! If I wouldn't breed for them, the men had said, I wouldn't be allowed to breed for anyone. My new owners had apparently agreed to keep me in an all-stallion herd, which had been of some comfort to me, providing the other horses were of uncommon stock as well. Of course, I had been given no choice. And there I was - to be stabled with strangers, likely some rag-tag group- whether it met with my approval or not. To mock me further, my past owners took away the sword at my side, but left me with the empty scabbard, and my new owners threw me to the wolves as soon as the previous ones were out of sight and hearing. How insulting! I'd thought I'd be confined to my own part of the stable for a week or two, but I overheard the man in charge, Howard, say to the man who would ride me-at least he was a scholar and a doctor- that he'd "... found it's better just to let them all get to know each other without us interfering or trying to introduce them gradually. So far, they've seemed to sort themselves out." As I said, thrown to the wolves. I saw no stigma to being the outsider. I had no incentive to behave according to any rules but my own and those of humans I deemed worthy; most everyone was beneath my dignity to recognize, even to scorn. Number One suffered no arguments, however. His speed and strength were beyond that of any other horse I'd ever met. He had a kick that was unbelievably swift and a stinging nip if you crossed him; if I crossed him, that is. I noticed his moves were entirely playful toward Number Two, which was completely unfair. What made him second? He was attractive and black. I'd never seen an all-black horse, and never, ever one with hair like that. My mouth watered at the sight-and he saw. He couldn't read minds, so he couldn't have known what I had been thinking, but he saw how I'd looked over his mane. I'd have to be careful. Number One protected him. I felt comfortable in the company of Number Three, who he acted as if he wasn't there. His hair was the shortest of all, too, so I wasn't as tempted to get close. But chiefly, his laconic attitude made it easy to overlook his existence. One couldn't miss him in the arena, those spots bobbing around, but in the dry grass the spots acted as camouflage. He disappeared- a rock until he moved, which he didn't do much. He was economical in movement as well as terse in speech. He informed me that Duo was clever and a trickster so I was to watch out, in two words, "Mind Duo." I most certainly would keep an eye on the black stallion, especially his hair. Number Four was a mystery to me. He was extremely well-bred and as fast a runner as I. He could have been a Number One, but he wasn't. He was soft and gentle-spirited. He would give me no problems, I suspected. And then a human turned a hose on me! What was this? Injustice! Shampoo as well? Stallions are strong and manly! They do not need special deep conditioning treatment that smells of strawberries or polish to make the hooves gleam like gold! Well, that last part wasn't so bad. I was Dragon clan. I could take any discomfiture and indignity that they might inflict upon my body. My mind was mine! To give the other stallions credit, they were suitably impressed with my skill at understanding humans. And Number One read their written words. And Number Three, I was led to believe, grasped their time and numbers concept beyond mere counting! If Numbers Two and Four were also talented, then possibly, just possibly, there was justification for my being here. My stall was at the far end, making me the guard there, a most important position and one I would bear with all the fortitude I could. My stall was roomy and comfortable, but too soft with a cushioned floor and deep piles of fresh, sweet hay. I would suffer it, since I had no other choice. The food seemed unremarkable-what was that sweet syrupy goodness gluing together the grain?-and possibly insufficient, but I could abide near starvation for weeks. I was Dragon. Although I heard the other horses thrashing about and talking to all hours of the night, no one bothered me much to my relief. It sparked my curiosity, of course, but I wasn't a meddlesome snoop. Maybe they would fight and bleed to death and then settle down. I'd had an event-filled day and thoroughly enjoyed the privacy and isolation the evening brought. I would meditate the horrors of the day away: being packed into a stuffy, bumping trailer, hauled away from my clan like so much garbage, unceremoniously de-sworded, and finally begin life in a new home by being pushed into familiarity with an assortment of odd-ball stallions. The injustice! I was rudely awakened by a noise at my stall door. The sun had barely risen, but dawn it was. Where had the time gone? I expected it to be a human eager to get started cleaning my stall, but instead there was a thick fall of black mane inches from my face and horse-lips messing with my door latch. I couldn't resist. Snack time. "Hey! You ripped out my hair, you ungrateful cud-grinder!" "I do not chew a cud, you ignorant man-mount, and I did not rip out your hair," I maintained; although, I had to chew fast to slip the tell-tale long wisps past my lips. "It sure felt like it. I shoulda just let you stew in here by yourself all day and miss the fun, 'cept that 'Ro wanted me to let you out." Fun? I would have preferred to die rather than miss "the fun", but I wouldn't give Number Two the satisfaction of knowing how he'd piqued my interest. "I couldn't care less. You should wait for the human to let us outside. It might not be safe." "Safe? Heh! We fly in the face of safe." "What is he talking about? Horses do not fly," I prompted Number Four, my next door neighbor who'd poked his head in from the other door. But it was Number Three who provided the translation services. "He means like a hen that flies in the face of an attacking fox." "Oh!" Four brightened. "Like we faced off lions in the pasture!" Lions! Impossible. "Nonsense!" "Mountain lions," Number Three corrected from outside. "C'mon, before it rains and the girls get in a tizzy." "What girls?" I smelled no mares anywhere. "Just sayin'. You'll see." The pastureland was trampled brown grass punctuated by stands of coarse weeds bent in the wind. I could imagine it lush with fresh spring grass, making my mouth water for the taste. It wasn't so much different from the home I'd left, possibly warmer. Aside from the human outpost, which was my new home, there was nothing but wild land for as far as I could see. The wind carried scents, traces of dampness, sharp herbs, dust, and an aftertaste of meadow grass and the sounds of insects humming, rodents burrowing, and birds crying overhead and indistinctly. What I didn't see, smell, or hear were mares. Not that I was wishing for any. On the contrary; it would make any mare-crazy stallions boorish to the extreme - if there were any. and, considering the possible ramifications of the noisy "thrashing about" activity going on from the other side of the stable, and to which I was subjected to at night, I seriously doubted my stable mates were interested. Anyway, females were bossy and demanding- in spite of being weaker. No, the grazing land reverberated with the lovely sounds of nature, and was mercifully mare-free. What I did hear was Number Two. He talked constantly. "Damnit, Spot-buddy, you just manured the last patch of green." "Pardon? Oh, that. That was a thistle." "A thistle? Oh, so it was. That's A-okay then, sorry." "No offense taken." "It was all so nice and green when I first came," Number Four said with a sigh of mourning, practically. If that were true, then Number Four must have come the season before my arrival. Not long at all. "Now, it's all dry and brown and dull." "About to become less boring." Number Three sniffed the air. "Rain's coming fast." Number One pushed the lovely-haired black horse with his nose. "Home time." "Hey, quit pulling!" "I'm pushing, not pulling." I noticed his tail was snagged on a patch of thorns, and raced to pull alongside. "You're caught up. Be still and I'll free you." "Oh, no you don't!" He tugged, threatening to rip the hair off. And what a waste that would be! Can't have that. I clipped it neatly with my teeth. "See! SEE? He's after my hair! He'll eat me if I'm not careful!" Even Number One knew that was ridiculous and came to my defense. "He freed your tail from a bramble so you can go, idiot. Now go!" Thunder rumbled and a whip-crack of lightening split the sky. We all darted down the hill in a mad dash. We ran into a downpour. Number Four had a conniption fit. "It's got my legs!" he kept screaming and kicking madly at the limp grass tangling in wet strands around his ankles. "Just a little further." Number Three urged him ahead with a patience I wouldn't have had. "Stay on the path." "But it's muddy!" "Just a little." "Look! It's getting all over my shiny hooves!" the yellow horse whined. "Wufei was right. I should have waited for the stable boy. He would have seen to my hoof covers." Of course I'd been right! Killing him at that moment would have felt satisfyingly justifiable, except that he'd just credited me my due. "It comes off." "It's icky!" "It washes off and you'll be good as new." The whining sniveler sniffed. "I like sand better." Ah, he was from the desert. The finest Arabians came from there, I'd heard. Still, the stallion was weak like a... mare. At last I understood what Number Three had meant about girls in a tizzy. There were no females to be found in the meadow, but there were weaklings. This was one of them. Number Two was the other and having his own hissy fit. "For crying' out loud, 'Ro! I'm not asking for much, just pick up the end and hold it outta the mud. That's all." "I don't tote tails. It's too undignified." "You wouldn't think so if you had to endure the torture of a comb out." "The groom could cut it out." What? Cut that spectacular tail? Not on my watch! I stretched my neck, catching up the dragging tip in my lips and fought back the urge to chew-so hard, so hard to do-while carrying it high and dry. I held it lightly in my half-open mouth. A gentle touch. I heard a voice coming up from behind, "I'll take that," and then the tail was gone. The lovely tail gone, whisked away by the leader, leaving me with the taste but not the victory... oh, one hair stuck to my tongue. Not so bad after all. "Thanks. Sorry 'bout getting so whacked about getting mud in my tail." Number Two looked so relieved with his tail held high and Number Four so distressed as he pranced over the potholes, shaking off the loose mud and snorting, I felt nauseated all the way back to our barn. There was the hose-boy poised to clean us up. What a pair of wussy stallions! "Have you no shame? Disgusting behavior." The words just popped past my lips. Suddenly, I had a nose in my face and saw spots before my eyes. "He's used to walking on sand, rather than on the muddy ground. He'd been given little boots the first couple of times it rained and he freaked out when he muddied his hooves- and he was fine with that." I was stunned to silence at his sudden defensive reaction, mostly because the spotted horse had strung so many words together. Oh, well, I lifted a foot as required, while a groom washed and thoroughly dried all our hooves. That actually felt luxuriously nice, but totally unnecessary. With a little time, I could have worked off all the mud on my own, like a real warrior stallion should. At least only Number Four had the added disrespect of having to wear lace-frilled booties. He seemed calmer wearing the now unnecessary things and didn't seem at all embarrassed at having to wear them as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. "I-it's not just the mud. The stringy things around my legs are terrible-like, like wire." With the mud gone I could make out the scars circling his ankles. "Those are wire-fencing cuts," I said aloud and cringing slightly. Why did I find it so compelling that needed to visualize acts of violence? I felt sorry for him and fought back images of the cruelty he'd once faced. He nodded. "I ran away. It was awful and I was scared." A soft voice came from behind, not so gently pushing me aside. "Winner stables was a long time ago. You're all right now." And Number Three nuzzled his neck while leading the distraught stallion away from me. Number Two had his tail wound into a quick braid that was subsequently doubled up and tied with a bow, another horror, on his rump. And Number One nudged me further away. I hadn't realized how close I'd gotten to the loose mane. What was it about his hair that beckoned me like a bucketful of sugar cubes? A jarring human voice by my ear gained my attention. "I want all these muddy areas including the barn entrances, lanes, and gates re-surfaced." Howard spoke into a "phone" communicator. "Yes, I know it's expensive. Consider installing geotextile fabric under the gravel to allow water to drain down and stop mud from working up through the gravel." Sound advice. I found Howard to be a competent stable manager. And then I noticed I was alone. Oh, I could tolerate the rebuff - all the rejections. We of the Dragon clan stood strong when met with a sudden setback. It didn't bother me in the least that the other horses refused my company; not until I overheard the Howard man muttering something about, "We'll wait and see if Wufei's a bad influence on the others." Bad influence? Me? The shame! Was there no justice to be found here? We were kept inside the rest of the morning, not because of the rain but because of the danger of lightning strikes. From what I could understand, next to the barn containing our stalls was a large indoor arena. That was something I'd find familiar, having performed inside many times. It had been under construction up until now, I guessed, with some of the interior features awaiting completion, but, Howard deemed, today would be a suitable day for us to take our exercise indoors and initiate it. I would display my exemplary manners, allow the other horses to enter first, preserving my rear-guard position, should the leader permit me, and demonstrate I could get along. If Number Four had only been here a short time, perhaps the others weren't as tight a company as I'd thought at first. Maybe they'd all had a settling in time. Well, mine would be brief. I might not chummy up, but I would definitely not be to blame for personality misfits and disputes! And that's the end of that nonsense! Everything started out as anticipated. Our individual stalls backed up to a deep barn, which in turn opened into the nearly completed arena. We passed through the double doors into the gigantic indoor space. What a grand arena we had! Number Three snorted loudly, saying under his breath, 'I feel like I'm back at the circus." I had no clear picture of a circus or what one was like, but I assumed it was big and spacious. From another entrance,five professional men of differing body shapes and dispositions joined us. Ah, at last, all our owners, I presume. I recognized Master O. Once saddled, my chest warmed with pride to have the tall forceful-looking man take up my reins. Only I was a suitable steed for Master O! We all enjoyed a pleasant few hours of exercise before being set free to examine the building on our own. Not totally alone. I noticed a stable boy, groom, the farrier, or Howard passing in and out-watching. "Sand!" Number Four didn't bother hiding his emotions. No pride at all. He skipped and tossed his mane and tail in the air like a young colt. Number Three actually knelt to the ground and rolled over the floor and bounced back to his feet in a manner that would have looked ungainly for me but for him was acrobatic. What a show off! I simply couldn't watch their antics any longer without comment, so I bit my tongue and searched for a distraction. There it was. "I see jumping fences stacked to the side." "You do, where?" It was Number One who was interested. I nosed over to the right and he shook his mane. "Good." Oh, he was excited. He tamped down his emotions and tried to conceal the slight flaring of his nostrils-all done in a masculine way by redirecting attention. I'd done something right and he had noticed. Now what was he doing? Heero had located a thick book with worn pages and a drawing on the cover which looked like a complicated box. "What is that?" I asked. "These are the architectural designs for the arena. It's... supported by the patented EagleBeams, whose rounded edges provide more safety for horse and rider by eliminating sharp, angular corners." Number two lifted his nose out of the flooring material. "Whadda eagles haveta do with beams, kinda stupid, you know? This is weird-smelling dirt." "It's not dirt," I told him. "It's sa-and!" the silly one sang as he continued to dance around with the spotted one. Number One nosed through chicken-scratched paper only he and humans could make sense of and stopped at another page. "Here's the spec's on the flooring. Listen up. First, it's an artificial surface." "Well, duh." He ignored Number Two for a change and read on. "Plastic grid flooring provides a permeable floor plus a level, stable, durable surface. Most plastic grid floors are laid over a well-draining subsurface... Usually, the holes in the grid are filled with stone dust." "It's sand!" "Tsubarov Lab Surfaces is the original manufacturer of polymer-coated, dust-free footings engineered from meticulously selected sand, blended with micro poly-fibers and coated with a viscoelastic polymer." I joined the others looking dumbfounded. Number One shook it off, saying, "I think the doctors who ride us work at Tsubarov Labs. The tags on their coats say so." "Oh." "OH! Look! It's a walker!" Preserve me, ancestors! Number Four found another reason to whinny and squeal with delight. Had his enthusiasm no bounds? So unseemly! "You hop on and the human helper turns it on and the floor moves and you walk without going anywhere. It's a horse exerciser." Either no one believed him or understood him, because no one said a thing for a few seconds, then it was Number Two who cleared his throat. "Um, cool, um, I think?" Obviously a stupid human contrivance. No horse would take a walk for the purpose of getting nowhere. "Quatre!" "Howard is calling you," I told him. "I recognize my name, thank you." Two sweaty men dragged in a trunk-it wasn't so large; I could have carried it on my back and run a marathon-and dropped it on the floor. Number Four stood alongside Howard, while the rest of us looked on, me from a distance. "I guess Sheikh Winner has been feeling so guilty about getting rid of you that he's sent a whole wardrobe along," Howard was saying. "Let's see what's inside." Number One stared at me expectantly. I guess I wasn't completely unworthy of his company. Free of charge, I did a quick translation: "His things sent from his previous owner." The name "Winner" was familiar. There was an renowned stable... this "Quatre" was a Winner-stable Arabian? They were famous for their incomparable stock. An oversight on my part. His value rose several points from my previous estimation, but then did that actually compensate for his other shortcomings? Clearly, not. I'd heard of the Winner Warrior stallions and that it was no wonder that they'd kicked out this one for being so inadequate. "Oh! There's my blankie and my very special feeding bowl... and my sleeping cushion to pillow my head!" All monogrammed "QRW". He blinked up at number 3 and added in a cloying sweet voice, "Not that I require one better than you, any more." No decorum. At. All. "-My lovely ribbons!" Oh, just lots of different colored silk ribbons and scarves. "You can use them like this as fly whisks!" Just look at him flinging those priceless silks about like so much straw! Why wasn't Howard preserving these things? "And they're so pretty! And they flutter in the breeze and the silk feels soo good!" The man should take the trunk away. Immediately. "- lots of coins and little golden ornaments for festivals, of course. I love dressing up! It used to be my favorite thing....everyone would say how beautiful I was!" Number Three dodged the flying streamers fairly well. "You still are. You don't need these things." Understatement! No one needs those things! Number One's mouth hung open in a very undignified way. I think his eyes had crossed. Number Two, well, his eyes had bugged out to frog proportions and his mouth had snapped shut, for which I was eternally grateful. I don't think he'd ever seen horse paraphernalia of this quality and in this quantity before. He probably had no idea what the things were for and most likely hadn't the imagination to appreciate them either. A few of the ribbons Number Four had tossed into the air landed over the face of Number Three, who couldn't complain with his mouth filled with something filmy and pink. "...I don't know what to do with all this," one of the doctors said. "Quatre seems to." Howard was marveling at the things. "We could share them out, if he wouldn't mind?" "But they're all marked with his initials, both his new name and his sireline." Ah, so he definitely was a Winner Warrior Arabian. What a bitter disappointment for that establishment. Too bad. No. This was an outrage. Such conspicuous consumption! Intolerable wastage! "Should we let the horses get into all this?" the doctor asked. "They don't appear to be doing any harm to the things and the Arabian seems pleased to show them off." Well, Howard, think again. Number Four seemed unaffected, as if he didn't see anything out of the ordinary about flaunting all this frippery. Number One finally came out of his hypnotic state-to read labels! " Mane & Tail Bling allows riders to add just the right amount of sparkle to their horse's mane or tail." "Oh, yes! My Swarovski crystal-embellished elastic bands." He tugged at the pink froth in Number Three's mouth. "That's one of my lovely silk face and leg panels to protect me from sun damage. The fringed mask goes over the face and is marvelous for keeping out pesky flies when your hair is all braided. You have GOT to get one of those-." This left the stunned horse to snort a nose-full from a partially opened bottle, and Mr. HAS IT ALL to warn a little too late, "Be careful! That's-" Trowa sneezed and his face suddenly sparkled. "Twinkle Ultra Fine Horse Glitter." Number One looked up from his reading and blinked. "Nice look for you, Trowa." "I'm so sorry! All the grooming supplies belong in the tote." "This?" Number Three held up a gold embroidered -damn, it was real gold-groom bag, his face all a-glitter like...like, well, not like a real horse. Out fell the contents, all color-coordinated brushes, curry tools, hoof shapers, shedding blades-with what I guessed were real ivory handles-amid cries of unreserved glee. Disgraceful! "My special conditioner! It makes my mane so silky and smells of almond and apricots!" And that's a good thing, you think? You are a horse, not fruit bowl! But then-what have we here? "That golden bowl was for my little sugar lumps and treats," he told Number One, who'd ventured a look inside the case. Scandalous! Number Two hadn't moved. Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died. Standing. "- warm blankets for when it's cold at night in the desert, and some lovely silken rugs for day wear. You see? Different colors to suit my mood? Aren't they pretty? This lilac one is my favorite, with the emerald embroidery-" And then came the climax. "What have we here?" Howard unfolded the blankets, and out jumped a white-furred horror with fangs, claws, and a yowl. "Meeee-ooow!" "Percy! It's my kitty, Persian, pedigreed, of course. Isn't he the softest, sweetest-?" The abomination raced to Number Two's tail and clung to the thickness, tearing off the bow in its terror. The horse re-animated with a whinny and an impressive kick with both rear legs. The tail unraveled and the white blur clung to it for its life. It occurred to me, suddenly, that if it became ensnarled, the tail might have to be cut to free the pest. Injustice! Protect the tail at all costs! Save the taaaaaaaaaaaaaail! I bit at the white horror with every intention of tearing it to shreds. Unfortunately, Number One and I moved as one, synchronized, aiming for the creature taking up residence in the flying black tail. My nose! We cracked skulls, but that wasn't all! Number Four, worried for the health and well-being of his "kitty" and making the mental leap that we meant it every bit of harm we could duly dole out, bounded over his trunk, overflowing with treasures, crying out, "Noooooo! Oh, no. Not my lace-edged blankets and my hand-carved ivory combs-!" -Which was a waste of breath since we'd already done some thing. Number Three tried to block one of us from the others, but by that time there was so much horseflesh in my face, I couldn't say what contribution he'd made. I did hear Howard's voice, and what I heard wasn't good. He misunderstood our activities. He thought we were fighting. And I was at the root of the problem. Me. And I'd tried so hard. I'd held back my bitterest remarks. I'd controlled my complete revulsion. I was practically hemorrhaging from the effort, and still... I was to blame. The injustice was outrageous and of the enormity that only humans of all the creatures that walked the earth could have fabricated. Or so I thought. But I was wrong, so very wrong. I could be judged even more unfairly and punished in a manner far beyond the furthest limits of righteousness. "I've heard castration settles down most stallions." Who said that?
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