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“Oh no,” I said, reaching for my pack of provisions. “I’m sorry – let me help.” I removed a vial of red liquid, and the faun’s eyes widened, his nostrils flared. Relax.” I unstoppered the vial, and released a few drops onto my thumb, then pulled open my shirt and rubbed it on my chest. It glowed red on my flesh, then evaporated. I released a few more drops onto my thumb and reached out with my hand. The faun didn’t move, so I edged closer until I could make contact with his skin. The red drops on my thumb connected with the cut in his chest and he emitted a soft snort, grimaced, and then looked down to see the glow of the healing liquid heal the abrasion on his skin. The glow traced a line across his muscular chest as the bloody wound closed and vanished. “Why ask this,” the faun said, startling me. “Do you wish for answer? Or for someone to pose same question to you?” After his silence all day, I didn’t think he understood. “Nice! Human nice,” the faun scowled, turning away from me. As he turned away, I could see there was another cut on his back. I dropped more of the healing fluid onto my palm, and pressed it against the back wound. I stole a glimpse at his perfect round ass before he relaxed his rippling muscles and muttered, “Monachikos.” He grunted, straining against the pain of my touch as the cut on his back healed. “Monachikos,” I said, my hand lingering on his back. “My mother was a healer in Icho,” I said, “back when the city was a crossroads between the Wildlands and the Mortal Reach. One of them named me when I was born, the story goes.” I realized my hand was still on his back and I pulled it away, brushing his tail. The faun was studying me more closely now. His nostrils flared and he took a deep breath in, then nodded, but said nothing.
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“Anthony says we’ll be back in the village by tomorrow afternoon,” I said. “He wants to … forgive me … take your horns. “Your mate is correct,” Monachikos said, closing his eyes. Monachikos snorted and smiled for just a moment. I try to say good, good that he is not cruel husband to you.” “Good,” he said, then opened his eyes, seemingly embarrassed at what he’d just said. “Anthony’s cruel to everyone.” I glanced to the side and saw Anthony clumsily trying to strike a fire in a circle of stones. Kind.” He inched up closer to me in the hay. In the dim light, I could see a curious expression on his face. His ears, furry and broad, were cocked towards me, and he took another deep breath as though taking in my scent. “Will it hurt, cutting your horns? We can numb them like we do for goats.” I leaned back against the side of the oxcart, close to him.
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I reached out to touch one of his dark black horns, and his eyes followed my hand. He did not pull away as I ran a finger along it. He exhaled heavily, his eyes closed, and rested his head on my leg. I stared down at the masculine creature’s face in my lap, rubbing a hand along the horn and then through his hair. “One day, maybe.” he said, almost whispering. He opened his eyes, looking up to me, and tears fell from them. “You are so sad,” he said, gasping for air.