Nathan Renfrew stooped outside a rough wooden barn, accompanied by the farmer who had called him in to help. The man was the classic hayseed type, a straw hat shading tanned, wrinkled skin as he chewed on a loose piece of straw. He watched as the swordsman brushed the dirt with his fingers, looking for any evidence that might be burried just beneath the surface.

"T'aint usual out 'ere," the farmer muttered. "Neighbors're always the neighborly type, no bandits neither; we all take care o' one another, so no one's ever in that kinda need."

He had called Nathan in to investigate an alleged horse thief on his property, and had insisted on coming along to give some context about his problem. He spat around his straw to punctuate his last sentence, but the swordsman ignored it.

"Not a lot to go on here," Nate commented. "You keep the horse in this barn, you said?"

"In the evenings, sure. That's his stall right there." He gestured to the empty, open stall across the way. Nathan stood up and walked across to it and checked it, moving the door on the hinges to check for damage. Something about the stall itself stood out to him.

"Freshly cleaned?" he asked.

The farmer nodded. "Horse was missing in the morning', so I cleaned 'er out nice so the smell didn't chase off any city folk who came to help out."

Nathan sighed. "You might have cleaned out some important evidence," he noted. He was feeling every moment less certain of being able to find anything useful. The farmer didn't seem to have thought things through very well.

"Well, I didn't clean out the barn," the hayseed noted. "If there was anything to see in here it should still be around."

"Fair enough." Nathan turned carefully, doing what he could to guard himself against scuffing any prints that might have been left. The farmer didn't take any such care, stepping around Nathan clumsily as though uncertain of which direction the man would take.

"Stand still for a bit, would you please?"

"Course, pardon."

Nathan examined the dusty barn floor and sighed. Even with the farmer's carelessness he knew that he should have been able to see something with so much straw and dirt on the floor. There was no sign anywhere he looked, however.

"You're sure you put the horse in his stall last night?" he offered.

"Well, pretty sure. Always do, can't think of anything that changed last night in particular."

"Best check the pasture anyway," Nathan concluded.

The rugged farmer shrugged broadly. "Yer the guy who knows what he's talkin' about," he noted. "I certainly don't have anythin' against checking around the fields."

The farmer trudged out in front of the swordsman towards a rough wooden fence. It was simply built, but Nathan could tell even on the approach that it didn't have any visible breaks. The farmer was about to jump over the fence, but Nathan grabbed his arm.

"Let me check for prints first," he suggested.

The farmer shrugged again. He seemed rather laid back for a man who had just lost his only horse. "I've been out there lookin' myself this mornin' already, you'll find my bootprints all over the area regardless."

"Best not add any more, just in case."

To this, at last, the farmer conceded, allowing Nathan to hop the fence first. To his surprise, it didn't take him long to find a print. At first he worried that it was just one of the farmer's own bootprints, but glancing at the mud-encrusted shoes that the man wore made it clear that this wasn't the case.

"Here! Looks like… Heavier boots, a warrior maybe? And not riding boots either." He traced the shape of the print. "Do you have any helpers who might have been around?"

The farmer snorted. "Helpers on a farm with one horse, enough land to 'haps feed two families, and a handful of chickens? I can barely afford to pay your reward, let alone hire regular help."

"Then this is probably our thief."

The farmer joined Nathan in the field, and the two followed the rather clear impressions out into the grass. The footprints continued on until a couple of smudged steps broke in between strides. Here, Nathan pulled up short, glancing around in surprise.

"Our thief left his boots."

There they were, muddy and tossed aside in the grass.

"Now why'd the fool go and do a thing like that?" the farmer drawled, squinting in confusion.

"Maybe trying to avoid being tracked?" Nathan continued forward and noted several smudged steps from there. After these, clear hoofprints led off towards the treeline on the far side of the field. "Yeah, looks like he met the horse here. Must have been familiar with it if the horse let him ride without resisting." The swordsman turned towards the farmer. "You're sure that the neighbors aren't suspects?"

The farmer sighed. "I thought they were above suspicion," he admitted. "Suppose that might be misplaced trust?"

"Can't rule it out." Nathan turned back and followed the hoofprints. "I imagine our thief probably put on a new pair of boots once he was on the horse and then rode somewhere where they wouldn't leave prints before dismounting later. Tricky, it'll certainly make it hard to follow them without scent tracking." He sighed. "Even then, if he rides onto a main road, it's going to be hard to do even that."

"Yer tellin' me my horse is gone?"

"Certainly seems like it," Nathan replied.

"You know I can't reward you if you can't find mah horse, right?"

"Yeah, I'll try a little while longer, he still might have made a mistake along the way."

The distance between the hoofprints grew steadily, indicating that the horse was coming up to speed, and as it did Nathan noticed something odd about the prints.

"You keep your horse unshod?" he inquired.

"Never venture into the city," the farmer replied. "Ya only hafta worry about their hooves if they're runnin' on hard cobbles. Around the village there's no need."

"Well, our thief might not have been so kind to your horse's hooves."

"Unfortunate, but not something I could have anticipated. Don't typically plan on havin' mah horse stolen, yeah?"

"I guess." Nathan sighed. He had ridden quite a few horses over his time, and always tried to see that they were well taken care of. The farmer's rather casual attitude towards the search, as well as this admission, made him wonder if the horse might not be better off in someone else's hands.

Still, it was rightfully this man's property, and he had no hard evidence to suggest that the farmer had mistreated the animal. He would keep an eye out, though. If he did find the horse, and the creature showed any signs of abuse, he would think twice before returning it to the man.

The hoofprints led to the far fence, and Nathan did not have to look much further to find evidence of the animal jumping over. Just beyond the rungs of the wooden fence, caught high in the branches, was a halter, strong straps still intact despite having been discarded on the way.

He hopped over and walked towards it, untangling it carefully from where it had been snagged.

"This yours?" he asked, turning to the farmer.

The man scowled as he nodded. "Sure 'nuff is," he muttered. He took the halter from Nathan as the swordsman offered it. "Guess it wasn't enough to take m'horse, took away the one thing that could identify him as well."

"You keep that halter on all the time?" Nathan asked.

The farmer nodded. "Don't care much fer brandin'. Halter's mark enough to call him mine. I take it off fer feeding when he's in the stall, don't you worry."

Nathan sighed. Yet another thing that stood out as wrong about this farmer. He couldn't imagine being forced to wear a halter all day, every day until feeding time. There was simply no way that the horse could be comfortable that way.

He scanned the forest further to try to find more evidence of the horse's passage. There were broken branches near the ones that had entangled the halter, and trampled underbrush. Nathan pushed through some low bushes and saw the grass beyond smashed flat, as though something heavy had fallen. The swordsman worried about the horse, but as he scanned the area, he noticed more unusual things.

A large scrap of cloth, seemingly torn from someone's trousers, lay on the ground near the depression in the grass. Nearby, a belt lay, coiled, its buckle torn through several holes before itself tearing away from its moorings. A pack was discarded to one side, left open with its contents spilling out.

"Strange, I… I think our thief might have taken a tumble in the trees. Maybe there's hope yet."

He began to step through the bushes before the farmer's voice halted him. "That's fine, friend, but without the halter the horse's no good to me." Nathan began to turn to ask why, but suddenly, from behind him, the leather straps of the halter fell down across his vision, and the bit slipped between his teeth, so perfectly that he had no time to fight it!

"What are you…? Stop!" he shouted! Or he meant to, but the harsh steel bit prevented his speech from coming normally. He gagged and coughed reaching up to either side to try to pull the straps away! Even as he did, he could feel the buckle being fastened behind his head. What did this farmer think he was doing?

"A shame about the last one, truly," the farmer drawled. In panic, Nathan spun, attempting to attack the man with a flailing fist, but the unassuming man just took a half step back and let the swordsman spin helplessly. Even as Nathan struggled to find his balance, the man stepped forward and pressed his palm on the warrior's forehead. The surprised man stopped, eyes wide, as a chill spread from the farmer's hand.

"There we are, boy, easy now," the farmer soothed, speaking to Nathan as he would a nervous horse. "You did fine, honestly. The last one, well…" He chuckled, shaking his head. "He knew so little about horses that he spent half the time following the tracks of my old cow."

Nathan's mind seemed to be slowing down, and the farmer's calm voice overtook him, rendering him docile and quashing his attempts at resistance. Somewhere, though his thoughts were muddled, he noticed that the farmer's country accent had entirely fallen away. It made more sense now, how the man seemed at some times less casual than at others. Were his mannerisms only a front?

"You've likely realized that I'm not precisely what I seem. Among my business associates I'm known as one of the finest horse breeders in the Kingdom, yet I offer the services of neither prime studs nor mares. I simply sell the finest horses in the land: docile, obedient, and strong."

A creeping dread filled Nathan's chest, yet still he could do nothing. The man rubbed his forehead in a circular motion now, and the warrior could feel his skin shifting, a velvety texture spreading from the man's touch.

"Easy boy, easy…"

The man's calm tones pressed into his mind further and further. Nathan exhaled slowly, the breath catching in his throat and forming a low whicker as it passed through thicker lips. His ears stood to points, swiveling to catch every word the man spoke.

"You're going to be a fine steed. My, that's already a lovely brown coat you're developing."

The change of texture made sense now. Fur was spreading over Nathan's face, and as it did his nose was drastically changing shape. The halter, though perfectly fitted already to his human visage, stretched supernaturally to fit as his face stretched into a broad, equine muzzle. The wizard stroked down the length of his entire face now, and Nathan found it difficult to focus both eyes on him as they had shifted to either side of his head. All he needed was to hear the man's voice, however, the gentle tones that coaxed him more and more into an equine shape.

"Perhaps by now you understand that one escaped my grasp; the one you so deftly tracked," the man explained. "Had you taken more care, you might have noticed that the stall hadn't been used for months, or that the bootprints changed into the hoofprints as soon as the victim had discarded his boots, or that there were, in fact, no hoofprints leading to where the boots remained in the field. You see, my previous subject bolted before I could fasten the straps—a careless misstep on my part—and he didn't have quite your spunk either, so he ran as soon as the bit fell between his teeth. Lest you hold out hope that his escape leaves him free to tell the world about me, however, let me assure you that the power of my bridles is not broken simply by removing them. No, seeing that the smith's apprentice had already been changed by the time he snagged the halter in the trees, he'll still be as helpless as you to seek help, and barely coordinated in a horse's body without my touch."

Despite the sinister words he spoke, the wizard's quiet manner still spoke to the burgeoning, equine part of Nathan's altered Self. He whickered softly, following the man's guiding hands to fall from standing upright to resting upon all fours. Even so, Nathan still remained nearly at eye level with the false farmer, and in time he rose even taller despite having his hands on the earth.

"There we go, nice and easy…" The wizard brushed gentle hands along Nathan's neck, drawing it out longer. The soft velvet of fur spread down its length at the man's touch, and long hair spilled down one side of his neck, a well-groomed mane in darker hairs complementing the brown of his newly-grown coat. Shoulders, already having no trouble supporting his weight, bulked under the touch of the farmer's hands, tearing through both his shirt and the straps of the armor that crossed his chest.

"My, you're going to be a sturdy one!" the wizard exclaimed. His hands passed down Nathan's arms, and in one smooth motion they had unmistakably become equine forelegs. His elbows shifted entirely, becoming the knees of his new legs, and the brown fur swept down until, shortly before his wrists, the shade faded down to form off-white socks above his hands. The farmer stepped to the side, giving Nathan's left eye a better perspective of his work, and insistently lifted the former warrior's hand. Like an obedient horse, Nate allowed his hand to lift from the ground, and in that instant it was no longer a hand. Fingers flowed together into a single toe, capped by thick nail that shifted to protect against the wear of a life lived on four feet. His second forehoof was similarly shaped by the farmer's influence, and the man gave a chuckle as he brushed a hand across the horse's side.

"A fine observation you made, by the way, that the horse you were tracking was unshod. Lest you think me a reprehensibly irresponsible owner, let me assure you: I shall have you fitted for shoes at my earliest opportunity."

As enthralled as he was by the wizard's magic, Nathan only managed a soft knicker, a sound that did not so much as communicate the slightest concern. His chest barreled, entirely shredding the last scraps of clothing that clung after his bulk had snapped the straps of his armor. A brush of his flank, and his hips, which had already bulked somewhat to match the rest of his form, tore through his belt. With a very animalistic shiver of his skin, the horse discarded the last signs of his humanity, his sword also falling unceremoniously to the side.

"I was right, you do make a fine stallion! Ah, but one more thing." The man raised his hand and slapped the horse's flank, seeming to delight in the surprised neigh that escaped the muzzle of the creature that had not too long ago been a man. At this strike, a fine, deep brown tail emerged behind the horse, completing Nathan's change into naught but an animal.

"Good boy, good horse." The farmer stepped back around to stand in front of the stallion, taking the reins in one hand as he brushed the side of the animal's muzzle with the other. "Now, I usually find a buyer for my creations, but you're special somehow. I think I may just keep you for my own."

Somewhere, deep beneath layers of instinct woven atop the man he had once been, the horse felt a pang of hopelessness. While neither option was appealing, being sold to another at least left the possibility of slipping away from an owner not expecting intelligent behavior from an animal. As the property of this same sorcerer, he could not hope to be left, ignored by the man. No, he knew he would be spared no humiliation. If only he could find it within himself to fight back…

"Come along." The stallion was jolted from his contemplation by a gentle tug on the reins. Despite every attempt he made to resist, he followed at a lope at the guidance of the farmer's hand, four hooves falling in a steady rhythm as he bobbed his head in time. Despairing, Nathan tried to fight back, but to no avail.

His Master suffered no disobedience.

---

The small village was nothing but a collection of wooden buildings clustered by the sides of dirt roads. Here, neighbors greeted one another by name, boys grew into men without ever leaving the borders of the town, and outsiders were greeted with suspicious glares and uncertain whispers.

The man who rode in the horse drawn cart was one of the former, however, and his fellows hailed him with enthusiasm and gusto. The farmer had been a pillar of the community for years. No one batted an eye at his new horse, whose hooves struck the packed earth with the muted metallic thud of horseshoes on dirt. None observed the powerful magic which kept him enthralled, nor did any detect the magic sigil woven within the white star upon his forehead. The stallion certainly did nothing to make himself stand out from so many other beasts of burden, as he plodded along with steady stride, wearing the harness comfortably as he easily pulled the weight of the farmer's cart.

His Master pulled him up short outside of the town's only store, and the man hopped down from the bench, tying the reins to a post as he set his feet on the earth once more.

"Mornin' Eustace! Got some wares this week?" A man emerged from within the shop, dusting his hands on his apron as he appeared.

"Aye, that I have!" The wizard had once again adopted that same country aura that he had used for his meeting with Nathan. He shuffled around to the back of the cart and pulled out a couple of baskets of produce.

"Not a lot, as always, but I know you'll give me a fair price?"

"You know me, friend, I'll treat you as well as you've always treated me."

The farmer grinned. Together, the two men began to unload the cart, pulling baskets of produce from where they were stacked in the back.

At the front, the horse rested, mind largely empty. The farmer certainly didn't abuse him; in fact, it frustrated Nathan just how well the farmer treated his horse. As he poured feed into his feeding trough, the man whispered quietly, gently brushing his fur with one wrinkled hand. As he treated him to a feed bag full of sweet oats, the wizard talked to him, told him how proud he was of his stallion. Even as the horse had balked at the farrier's work, the farmer had been there, offering words of comfort to the frightened animal.

And even his human side had begun to appreciate his kind treatment.

Though the harness was a burden, the horse knew that his Master would soon take him home, and then all of the harnesses and straps would be stripped away, and he would be allowed to gallop free through the pastures. He anticipated the sweetness of the pasture grass, the freedom of running through the field without burden or care. His Master trusted that he would return to the barn when he called, and the animal had no intention of disappointing the farmer.

And Nathan had long since given up trying to resist.

Small bits of relief came as more and more baskets were removed from the cart. It would not take long to unload, and then they would be heading home. The only thing that could get in the way was an interruption from some unhelpful passerby.

"Afternoon," a female voice spoke, directed towards the men in the back of the cart.

The horse snorted. The more they talked, the longer they would be delayed. Why did people always have to interrupt?

The shopkeep replied first. "Yes, ma'am? I'm the keeper of this shop, if you need something from our stock."

"No, I actually just had a question. Doesn't this podunk town have a single place to sleep?" the woman replied, annoyance dripping from her voice.

The shop owner ignored her anger. "Only one place to find a bed in town, at the old Derin boarding house."

The horse remembered the place. Nathan had slept there for a few nights before being hired by his Master. It was…

"Out on the edge of town, only house around that's whitewashed," the farmer replied. "S'pose yer not from around here, yeah? Don't see many strangers about, I'm Eustace!" The cart rocked to the side as the horse's Master leaned over the side to offer a hand to the woman.

"Dawn," was her reply. She seemed to calm a bit. The horse's ear twitched, and it lazily raised its head to glance over. Under the animal's guise of languid calm, Nathan was panicking, and his heart froze as he spotted the familiar form of a grey wolf woman. His human mind knew she was his wife, and the horse interpreted this realization as the term "Mare."

The horse's interest did not go unnoticed by the farmer in the bed of the cart, and the man's pleasant smile as he shook the woman's hand appeared like a malevolent sneer to Nathan's human mind. The horse's frozen heart made his blood run cold as words echoed only within the reaches of his own mind, words from his Master.

"Say, the boarding house is a bit far by foot, what say I give you a lift on your way?"

Nathan's mind fought, trying to make his equine body do something that would warn Dawn off from the man. His head turned stubbornly the other way to look down at the ground again, even as his human mind cursed the magic that bound him.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather hold onto my coin," Dawn replied sharply.

Nathan begged mentally.

"Nah, wouldn't dream of asking you for coin. If you feel that you must pay me somehow, why not give us a hand with some of these baskets?"

The horse could not see Dawn's reaction. He could, however, hear her reply.

"All right, sounds like a fair trade to me."

No one who observed the scene could have imagined the blinding desperation in the mind of the horse as he lazily lipped at a few blades of grass by his forehoof. Behind him, the cart rocked as one more person joined the task of unloading. Despite all of his struggles, however, the horse could do nothing to prevent Dawn's impending fate. And, with every basket set on the wooden walkway by the store, Nathan's dread grew deeper. He knew what the wizard intended, but there was nothing he could do to resist.