****** Rides in Shadows: Part one by jasper_goat@yahoo.com ******
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Rides in Shadows: Part one


He paused just below the skyline to look back at the vast, empty plain below.
The long grass rippled in the afternoon breeze and the horizon shimmered
glassily in the haze, but there were no dust trails to betray any followers and
for the first time in days he felt safe.

Since the terrible day of his banishment, two long winters had passed, during
which he had grown from an awkward, gangly youth to the deep-chested build of a
warrior of the plains; lithe and agile. But there had been no one to see the
change. No shaman had guided him through the complex rituals to mark his
passage into manhood, or had led him on the vision quest that would shape his
future destiny. Throughout all that time, he had wandered the empty plains,
alone and often afraid, his life a continual battle for survival. Wa-tehna-
shina-tsa: His father had named him well: "The One Who Rides in Shadows" Yes,
it was a good name for an outcast. He smiled grimly at the thought.

A rattle of loose stones behind him broke his pensive mood and he glanced
around to see the little paint pony doggedly following him, her round body
distorted by the deer carcass slung across her shoulders.

The deer had been freshly killed and still warm across his own broad back when
he had first seen her that morning -a small dark shape on the plain. She had
made no move to flee as he approached, but had ambled slowly towards him, her
neck outstretched as if in welcome, trailing the remains of a rawhide halter
behind her. Dropping his burden, he stretched out his hand, speaking
comfortingly, surprised at the way his tongue stumbled over the words, for this
was the first living creature to hear his voice in many moons. She swivelled
her ears at the sound, gazing at him incuriously with large, dark eyes, her
nostrils quivering at his unfamiliar scent. Somewhere a woman would be mourning
the loss of her favourite travois pony he thought and carefully scanned the
horizon once more. The prairie droned with the lazy hum of insects in the hot
afternoon sun, but there was no movement to be seen and he turned back to
examine his new companion more closely. She was a pretty animal with a pert
face and an absurdly long mane and tail; the very opposite of the rangy buffalo
runners, with their clubbed tails and slit nostrils so favoured by the warriors
of his tribe. How they would jeer to see him now, with his arm around this
pretty little horse. For some reason the thought angered him and he reproached
himself. 'You! Who have no tribe! Who are you to spurn this gift from the
grandfather-spirits?' Calmer now, he spoke gently to the mare standing placidly
by his side. "That will be your new name, little one; I shall call you Ata-
Shashe-Neeta'eo. My "Spirit Gift". Carefully, he loaded his few possessions
onto the pony's ample back, comforting her as she shied away from the fresh,
blood-scent of the deer. Lighter in body and spirit, he picked up his bow and
led the little mare towards the distant hills.

* * * * * * * * *

He waded out into the middle of the pool, sluicing the cool water over his
shoulders, relishing the feel of his skin as the dust of the trail coursed off
his body. Watching him from the bank, the little pony had been drinking, but
now she placed a tentative hoof into the water. She moved in deeper and stood
facing him, eyeing him gravely from under her long, white lashes. Shadow was
appreciating the company of his new-found companion and called softly to her.
"The water is good, eh, little one? Come, I'll wash the sweat off you and we
will both smell sweeter". She whickered softly at the sound of his voice and
stretched her neck towards him so that he could feel her breath warming his
naked chest. Cupping his hands, he spread water over her back, smiling at the
way her muscles twitched involuntarily at its cool touch. He worked his fingers
into her coat, gently massaging the dried sweat patches from her shoulders and
flanks. The pony stood stock still, occasionally uttering little grunts of
pleasure, turning to nuzzle his back in return. Her rough tongue rasped over
his shoulders and they both jumped at his startled reaction. Laughing, Shadow
pushed her head away gently and carried on with his task.

It was as he worked towards her hindquarters that he detected a change in the
pony's mood. She shifted uneasily from one leg to another, pushing her body
against his touch and arching her back. She lifted her tail and Shadow stood
back hurriedly as she urinated noisily into the pool. He chided her softly and
returned to his grooming, thinking that had been the cause of her agitation,
but as he moved behind her to wash down her rump, she continued to hold her
tail high. For a brief moment he saw her flash her swollen vulva, dewed with a
clear, stringy liquid. With sudden comprehension he murmured softly. "So,
little friend, is that why you left your home? Did you want to meet a fine
stallion to cure you of your need?" As if in answer, she shifted round and
presented her hindquarters towards him in mute appeal. "Poor little horse, I
know how you feel" he muttered huskily, his mind in sudden turmoil as he
recalled his own desperate loneliness. With shocked surprise, he noticed that
his fingers were tracing around the pony's vulva, which was becoming relaxed
and open at his attention, showing the small pink cone of her erect clitoris.
His own body was reacting too, and he felt the pressure of his erection
straining against the soft deerskin pouch of his loincloth, while his breathing
was becoming shallow and fast. Impulsively, he cupped his fingers to a point
and inserted them carefully into the mare. He felt a warm resistance that
slowly gave way as she relaxed, humping her back and pushing her hindquarters
against him. Stimulated by her pulsing warmth and, reacting with instinctive
knowledge, he began to slide his arm slowly forward and back in a gentle
pumping motion. The mare responded, whickering softly and clenching her
powerful hind muscles in a primitive rhythm as old as time itself. Shadow's arm
moved faster in time with the pony's thrusts and he felt the sweat begin to
trickle down his spine from his effort and excitement. Suddenly, the mare's
muscles spasmed, trapping his arm in a powerful grip, so that for a full minute
they both stood panting heavily, before her vice-like grip eased and Shadow
could withdraw his steaming arm. Feeling suddenly chilled, Shadow realised with
a start that they were still standing in the water of the pool.

Conscious only of his aching loins and of a fierce need within him, Shadow
waded out of the pool, unaware that the little mare was following close behind.
Groaning in desperation, he tore at the damp thongs around his waist and
dropped his breech-cloth onto the sand. His penis sprang erect, still dripping
with the waters of the pool and with a deep sigh he wrapped his fingers around
its shaft and began to stroke himself fiercely. He had hardly begun when his
elbow was jolted roughly and he turned to see the pony at his side. She was
gazing at him steadily with her solemn, blue-hazed eyes, as if in invitation.
Suddenly understanding, he led her quickly to a low, table-like rock by the
shore, where she stood, patiently waiting, holding her cream-coloured tail to
one side like a banner.

Her gripping warmth held him for only a few moments before all the months of
need exploded from him in a joyous spurting of relief. His leg muscles began to
quiver uncontrollably and he had to lean forward, resting his heaving chest on
her rump until the trembling eased. Her grip relaxed and she gave a series of
slow thrusts that forced his softening cock out of her. He felt her gripping
him as if reluctant to let him go, before a final spasm expelled a long string
of his sperm down his bare legs, to spot the dry rocks at his feet.

Shadow waded back into the pool on shaking, unsteady legs and washed himself
down. How little I know of such things. He thought, still dazed by the
intensity of his feelings. Until now, his only knowledge of sex had come from a
few clumsy experiments with his friends and he had never known a woman. His
recent coupling with the little mare may have provoked a few derisory jeers
from those boyhood friends, but it would have aroused little interest. Life on
the Plains forged a bond between man and horse, but it was a practical and
unsentimental one. Horses were a source of pride and wealth -even food in hard
times, but they were there to be used, like T'chi-tonkah, the buffalo. But a
stronger bond often existed: It was not uncommon for a warrior to service his
favorite mare when she came in season, believing that his seed would mix with
the stallion's to breed a war-pony as brave and fearless as himself. A foal
produced from such a union was highly prized and thought to be gifted with
mystic powers. So, if a young warrior sought solace from his pony on a long
hunting trip, he risked only the earthy humor of his companions -not their
censure. "Why else does he ride a mare?" they would smile, scornful of his
weakness.

Untroubled by such thoughts, the little mare grazed on the lush grass beside
the pool while Shadow lay down in the warm evening sun to dry off. His body
felt strangely relaxed and heavy and very soon he fell into a deep, dreamless
sleep. Close by, the little mare folded her forelegs and sank to the ground
with a contented "whoof", idly flicking her mane and tail as she lay. As the
sun dipped behind the walls of the hidden valley, the two lonely outcasts, man
and beast, settled down for their first night together.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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