01

        Taylor pulled the shovel out of the dirt and sighed. His shirt was already so many bandages. His jeans were torn up, but he didn't want the trouble of taking them off. The rest of the camp remained untouched, including the two Pokèballs. Inside, the Pokègirls he was supposed to be transporting were still safe. "Simple courier job," he said as he started digging, he glanced at his newly-evolved friend, Sylve, "Except for a Rack out for a snack."

        "Remember when I was six, and in the infinite wisdom I possessed at the time, I'd decided both my older sisters were hopelessly goofy," he reminded her, she didn't answer, he didn't expect she would, she always was quiet, "They were 12 and 16, and therefore had no interest in going out in the farm and chasing bugs, or lassoing imaginary rustlers, or anything fun." He chuckled at that. "Tara was fascinated by Talon Godfrey, who had the most miserable looking CyberNymph, do you remember that poor Pokègirl? I knew he was a jerk from the way he treated her." He considered the symbolism of the hole he was digging, and his oldest sister's unhappy marriage. "Turns out I was right, and she dug her own hole, but who'd listen to a six-, seven- or eight-year-old when 'It's LOVE!'" he shrilled like a teenager, "Jennifer was just on the hunt, trying to emulate her older sister. My mom -" He paused in the digging, took a sip of water. "I still swear she's half-Bimbo, half-Fairycuter, despite being a Sparkanine," he got no answer, so he continued talking and digging, "She encouraged them both. My dad, our Pokèstaff and the male hands were usually busy with the herd or the crops, so I was left to drift, as long as I didn't cause too much trouble." He checked if the hole was deep enough yet, he wanted this done right. Not yet, he thought and continued his work.

        "So when a Ponytaur walked by the section of fence I was inspecting, I lassoed her. You never told me how you felt about that, you sure didn't object at the time. Do you remember the pair of Clydesdames at the ranch, they plowed, and we rented them out for heavy work, that's why I was sure I knew horse-types. You don't have to answer. Remember how I informed her that as 'a wild mustang' I had caught her and she'd work for us if she expected to get fed and have a roof over her head. It was the same speech my dad gave the drifters we sometimes hired as hands, so I knew it. I thought I delivered it pretty well, but you seemed not to hear. In fact, you tried to keep walking, despite being anchored to a couple of fenceposts. So I walked directly in front of you, put my hand on your human stomach and delivered the speech again in my most commanding voice. I felt so self-important, I wouldn't blame you if you'd laughed your head off at me." He measured the hole, it was deep enough. He checked on the rocks he'd located. "First you dig it, then you fill it up. Thanks for letting me spout. If I couldn't talk about this, I think I'd go nuts. Sorry, I've got to move you." She didn't object, so he continued to work and talk.

        "You stared down at me, not like the Clydesdames did, with amusement, but with such terror, then such desperate hope." He said as he carefully fitted the stones together while he knelt in the bottom of the hole. "I tell you, you scared me to death when you grabbed me, and started to hug me so tight I thought I'd die. Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I got more worried when you kept promising you'd do anything we asked, and telling me how grateful you were, that you'd be loyal and faithful, etc. You continued in that vein all the way to the house." He stood and patted her cheek. "You did all you promised and more, don't ever doubt that. My glory at having hired my first hand, and a horse-type no less, came crashing down around my ears when I saw my mom's expression. She was serious, but not mad, and instantly sent for my dad. You know how that always heralded trouble. My sisters were sent to take care of you, that made sense to me, they were always currying the Clydesdames. But that absolutely neutral expression told me I had more than stepped in it." He chuckled at that, fitting the last of the stones together.

        "I don't know who got a more stern and serious talking to about their new responsibilities, me or you. I knew you were in trouble when the Clydesdames came into the house with long shirts draped over their human forms. 'Rare as Chickenlittle wisdom.' My dad, the foreman, and the oldest of the Kung-Ewes talked to me." He climbed out of the hole and stared down at the pile of stones, hoping they would be enough. That was the first day I learned about the realities of the world I lived in. On the farm/ranch, we didn't make the distinction, you worked you got fed and housed. The Lamp-Chops and Kung-Ewes weren't just for shearing, but were also guards and protectors; the Clydesdames worked, but we took care of them in ways they couldn't, he thought, the anger born that day still burned in him, The idea that someone would throw away somebody willing and able to work revolted me. We were always short-handed. "My new responsibilities were laid out and that I would be punished if I shirked, because it wouldn't hurt just me, but you as well. I got that the first time. I promised them and myself I'd never hurt you." He bowed his head, struggled to get the apology out without crying, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep that promise."

        He wiped his face and began filling in the hole, covering the stones. "I hadn't realized I'd actually hired myself a permanent babysitter. You seemed so much older than me, but you were still a scared kid, desperate to fit in and earn your keep. I'm glad you never told me, I wouldn't have understood, until I was able to figure it out myself. That night, they let you sleep on the big rug in my room, you stayed a centaur, I just figured you hand learned how to switch back. Despite being so much larger than me, you looked around and seemed so scared . . . I made up my mind, once everybody left, I pulled all the blankets off my bed and lay down on your flank. I wasn't trying to put the moves on you. I didn't think much of it, 'cause when the winters were cold or in a bad thunderstorm, I'd end up with a half-dozen shivering LampChop and Kung-Ewe kits in my bed for warmth or safety. Besides, you weren't as lumpy as my mattress was," he teased.

        "We worked all right. My family was so happy that the two of us could check and patch the whole fence in half a day, it used to take my dad and eight hands between two days and a week to do it." He blushed at the next memory. "I was too young to understand why every three days I went into the Pokècenter in town with 'Ponytaur', you refused to give a name and said you didn't want one. 'Ponytaur' was good enough. You would accompany the NurseJoy into the back and stayed there for a hour and twenty minutes. She came back and would quiz me on basic Pokègirl biology, the laws, rights of the girls, responsibilities of `owners`. I was so sure they'd take you away if I didn't do well on the tests. I'd cry myself to sleep after those lectures, was I was so scared I'd become like what she told me about. Then you'd cuddle me and tell me it was okay, that I didn't have to be like that. If I never told you how grateful I was and am for that, I'm sorry." He sat down, the job half done. He sipped some water and looked over the wilderness around him, trying to fix it in his mind.

        "Then came the polio. I don't know if I wasn't vaccinated, or if the vaccine was no good. I do know that I got a mild case, because the NurseJoy, and a couple of local healers concentrated on others. Remember that scary, old lady in a black cloak, black, pointed hat and black dress who came to check on me, I couldn't even look at her in the eye. And you standing there, so fierce and protective, she seemed amused rather than offended. She wore that bronze star hanging from a blue silk ribbon with 13 stars. I remember thinking, that it seemed safer than to look it, instead of into her eyes, or you peering over her shoulder and fretting. She assigned you to help me do a set of exercises, and to not give up because it was going to get worse before it got better. Soon I couldn't walk, then I couldn't even stand."

        He felt the tears come, remembering the dark despair of those days, and how he'd survived. "I cried so much when I realized I was just going to be a burden to everyone. You held me in your arms while I cried myself out. Do you remember what you said? You told me, 'Don't fret, I have legs enough for the both of us.'" He sniffed, blinked away the tears and continued his work.

        "You saw to it the chores got done, by both of us. I'd bet you and mom arranged it so we had to run all those errands and carry the small packages around. Making me feel worth something, and to keep my mind off the exercises. At the same time, the tests at the Pokècenter got a lot harder. Later, I discovered the NurseJoy had switched to the tests used in the Orange Islands for their Tamers. When I saw the first one, I damn near died." He laughed. "Oh go ahead and laugh, I know you were in on the joke, so were my parents. Then school started, and you carried me to and from, usually at a dead run, helped me get seated. Of course I got the cluster of questions about what were you like and whether I was Taming you yet." He paused. "Yeah, embarrassing. Fortunately the tests I'd been taking at the Pokècenter gave me most of the answers, especially the critical one, it wasn't legal at my age. I never said yes or no, I kept repeating it wasn't legal."

        "I think the first few days at school were scarier for you than me," he said, "I'm sorry I didn't notice at the time. You were afraid someone might recognize you, call you by your real name, remind you of who you'd been and who'd thrown you away. Waiting in the cloak room in case I needed you, let you get the lessons you weren't `allowed` as a Pokègirl, that and helping me with my homework, reading to me at night. I still remember your face when my dad and mom let you into their library, you were so surprised that a farm family had so many books. Then they gave you a library card from the town library 'for your birthday', and you scared me dancing us around you were so happy."

        He looked at the pile of dirt and thought about what happened after his thirteenth birthday. I was suddenly aware that my `buddy` was becoming interesting in other ways, he thought, Ways I wasn't used to thinking about. "Is that why you tried to stay as a centaur as much as possible?" he asked, "Because you wanted a friend instead a Tamer, or . . . you wanted me to be your friend, before I became your Tamer. No, don't answer, I think I know the answer. The dance," he said with disgust, "I was so in love with Melanie Tanner, I don't know if you were relieved or jealous." He smiled at his friend. "Or both. That slimeball wandering Tamer who crashed the dance and caught Melanie's eye offered me $1500 for you. I don't know whether he was serious or just trying to piss me off. When I asked her to dance before that Tamer could, she made it very clear, in front of everybody, that I was just a pathetic, little cripple who could barely walk and would never be a man. As she danced with the Tamer, I showed her. I ran all the way home and into my room, refusing to cry."

        "Of course, you just trotted along behind, not saying anything, not letting me out of your sight. I stood there in my room, shaking with shame and rage, wanting to fight and hurt someone to prove I was a man." He settled himself, feeling the ghost of that rage pass through him, then came the relief, that passion turned elsewhere. "Then I realized, stupid of me for not seeing it earlier, that there was a beautiful young woman in my room, not the centaur who confused my feeling so much recently, but a human-shaped girl. Prettier and more lush than Melanie Tanner or any of the other girls who caught my eye, someone I'd known and trusted for over half my life. Someone who'd seen and rescued me during my darkest times, as I had hers. I told you I didn't feel like talking, or cuddling, I wanted to do something. 'So do I,' you told me, then you let your dress slip to the floor and you began unbuttoning my shirt. I lost my virginity, but not my innocence to a Pokègirl who'd patiently waited years to claim her Tamer and her Master." He sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Melanie lost both, the Tamer finished with her that night, and gave her to his Domina to `play` with. Do you remember all the speculation after she disappeared, and her family refused to talk about her anymore? Pregnancy or Threshold?" He sighed again, glanced at where his friend rested. "Of course not, you never cared about that stuff. Well, I found out. She got both, and went from the most popular girl in school, to a pregnant Whornet. They went in, took everything out, gave her a Level 5 Taming cycle and sent her off to help fight the Feral bug-types." He patting down the earth on the hole he'd dug, then backed away from it, towards the camp.

        "I don't feel like I lost $1500, I feel like I lost a treasured friend," he said to the mound of earth. He looked out. The chunk of charcoal and scorched meat that killed you, I buried it too, a ways away, and not very deeply, he thought, I don't care if the scavengers get that one. But I wanted you to be safe, I know you don't believe. But I do. He took the collar his friend had worn out of his pant's pocket, the last physical connection he had to her.

        He lay down in his tent, clutching the collar to his chest, and for the first time in years, cried himself to sleep, very much alone.