Opened Death's Door

[Diagoras]

With his hooves scattering leaves like confetti, Diagoras cantered deeper into the forest as fast as his four legs could take him. At one point he tripped and almost stumbled so it was there that he paused, chest heaving with exertion and both hands gripping his bow as though it were the only thing keeping him tied to the earth. The moment he paused, every instant of the scene replayed itself picture by burning picture and tormented him like nothing ever had. He had a child's blood on his hands; an innocent child's. Without question, the small human was dead. Diagoras would not return for confirmation. He was an expert marksman and the child had fallen without a sound, caught directly in the heart. How the heavens would punish him for that moment of thoughtlessness, the anticipation and thrill of the hunt dispersing his thoughts and killing his foresight. There would many prices to pay and from many sources of vengeance.

He was trotting again, then galloping, but a canter was out of the question as he was likely to fall again and do serious damage. Diagoras slowed as he began to approach marked centaur territory, moving towards the biggest encampment in the herd. There was silence around though he was sure his own kind were about. Diagoras had expected this. They knew what had transpired only minutes before. He slowed to a walk and cast his eyes around, seeking out Vico and the consequences of his dire mistake.

 

[Vico]

Vico had just determined, with the help of the elders in the tribe, what the Centaurs would do now that a human had been killed by one of their own in their forest, and more importantly what would be done when the Ministry of Magic, which they avoided like the plague, came to investigate the issue. The whole forest was Centaur territory, they had affirmed, and they all recollected the incident with bringing students back to the school, invading the school, how those people felt when their territory had been invaded, and how the Head-witch of the school had agreed that the Centaurs were in the right. That day, they had thought, would bring an end to many of their troubles. Then this happened.

Vico heard the sound of hooves entering camp. He neighed shortly, dismissing himself from the presence of the future-knowers and wise folk of the tribe before moving in to a small clearing and standing still, waiting for the hunter who had caused much of this trouble to approach him. "We are moving our camp." Vico stated plainly as the centaur approached. Vico looked on him with the same look he gave all the hunters of the herd, with no disrespect, no upset, in his voice. "It is unfortunate what has occurred, but we must make the best of it." He continued on, moving closer to the centaur opposite him, "This was their fault, not ours. Your hunt was in our land. Your hunt was right. They invaded our territory again. These were the dangers we have warned those people of for years. Now, perhaps, they will understand why it is that our land must remain as ours. They have all the world! We want but this forest, and now they may see why that is that we exclude ourselves from their society. We are wiser, but our ways of life simpler. We would not do well in their world, just as they do not do well in ours"

Vico turned from Diagoras now and looked shortly at the stars, looking for some sign in them but finding none in his fury of thoughts which clouded his inner mind for the moment.

 

[Diagoras]

Ever expressionless, Diagoras did not reveal the torment that was plunging a dagger into his heart at every recollection of his mistake. The way Vico spoke suggested that what had transpired was not his fault and he knew very well that, for the most part, this was true. The children had been foolish to venture so far and such an accident was bound to happen at some point. But the slaying of an innocent was still a crime, and he desired to be punished for his mistake. Already Diagoras had uprooted the entire herd and was forcing them to move on. The Ministry of Magic would no doubt come sniffing around to seek out the perpetrator. As it always was, there would be calls from the humans for interference to stop such a thing happening again. Chaos would ensue and there would certainly be bloodshed. But they were just the assumptions of his physical self, so Diagoras too turned his eyes heavenwards and gazed in hope of enlightenment and guiding. Nothing. He lowered his head slightly.

"I ask permission to depart from the herd temporarily." he said simply, being a centaur of few words. Guilt was a debilitating thing and if he did not rid himself of it he would become as useless to the herd as a ministry official. Diagoras was a hunter and a warrior. If he could not do one and there was no cause for the other, his purpose was futile.