Being a centaur living in a human world has its risks, especially when your species is hunted down, chained and used for human amusement: in their eyes you’re a mere toy, something to play with until they get bored and toss you aside.

You were living a peaceful life, nestled in a thick forest with the rest of your pack. Despite the rumour that centaurs are violent and warlike, you’re a peaceful group.

Perhaps that’s the reason the humans started hunting your kind, desperate for that sense of power and belonging, not appreciating when someone, or something is stronger than them.

It seems that your luck has run out however. Humans have located you, stripping you away from your family and friends, and for what? To become a damned race horse. It hasn’t been ideal up to this point, to say the least.

“I want that one.” A woman’s powerful voice makes your eyes snap to her as she points to you. It isn’t hard to figure out she’s won a bet and has gotten to select her very own centaur, hopefully she’ll be nice.