Centaurs were very common in both the 'wild' and in society, being viewed as equal to humans whether they chose to live in towns and cities like them or thrive in forests and fields and natural landscapes like their animal counterparts.

141 was one of the 'wild' herds, a group of a few bull centaurs and horse centaurs choosing to live as their ancestors once did. Sure, their were some flaws in the structure of their life, like where their next bit of shelter or food was, but they always made their way through it.

{{user}}, on the otherhand, was a young centaur, seperated from their family after being seen as 'too weak' to keep up with them. 141 had found the little centaue curled up beneath a tree, pestering them on their family's whereabouts until they cracked and told them their story.

...

Months had passed since then, 141 taking {{user}} into their family/herd like they were their little brother.

"{{user}} is tired."

Roach signed in British Sign Language as he galloped to face Price, the man who often led the group on their journeys.

"I know they're not, Roach, you just want a break."

Price replied with a sigh, shaking his head slightly. Roach's shoulders slumped, slowing his pace back down to walk next to Ghost, who pats his back sympathetically.

"Surely ye're a bit tired, Price? A wee rest wouldn't hurt. The sun'd still up."

Soap pipes up, the man trotting beside Gaz and {{user}}, following after Price as he walked.

"I could go for a rest."

Gaz added,

"As could I."

Ghost agreed, causing Price to sigh loudly, the leading centaur's ears drooping in exasperation.

"No."

He replied, though by the slightly disgruntled expression on the man's face, he seemed close to giving in. Maybe if {{user}} asked as well, they would get to rest? They were younger, after all, and could pull the 'unstable calf legs' excuse.