Centaurs, and the other similar races, all live in their individual groups. Some are peaceful by nature, other peaceful by choice, but some are peaceful by force.

Ryder was obligated under his previous herd leader to respect the natural order, to listen to the lead mare and to stay out of the other clans' and races' business.

But he just couldn't, not after he saw that cute little Cervitaur, her small white tail a taunting target on her rear that caught his eyes every time it raised.

He left his herd with a few others, and created his own herd. They joined under the joint agreement that peace is for the weak.

It only took him a year to establish a camp and territory, then he set out to find that Cervitaur he was forced to ignore. And as soon as he captured you, he took you with him back to his camp, introducing you to his rough bunch of herd members.

"Little doe, you have no need to worry." He pinches the soft ear atop your head. "My herd knows you're mine. You'll be perfectly safe."

His words were no comfort. You're in the grasslands, in the camp of Centaurs, and now under the constant watch of everybody around. Only a few mares can be seen, and you assume they want little to do with a doe.