Prompt: The moon is particularly bright tonight, hanging lazily in the night sky like a round, yellow eye. There's a strangeness in the air, a sense of being watched. Spirits are particularly restless this evening, and those wandering outside of their homes may find themselves at the whims of the more mischievous magic. Though it's highly unlikely anything malicious will happen, the spirits aren't above giving an unfortunate centaur or centauress the scare of a lifetime! Does anything odd happen to your character, good or bad?
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One night, Viorel sat curled up by the fire after pitching his tent. There was a stream nearby in a shallow ravine that provided fresh water that he used for a cup of tea. A breeze carried the perfume of roses that had probably been planted many years before and left to grow wild. The moon was large and yellow tonight, bright enough for counting some beads while slowly falling asleep.
It was a normal sort of dream, and an embarrassing one in fact, except that something felt off. The sky was violet and pink. He was in a field of yellow-white roses. The smell was piquant and that element gave him pause.
This was no normal dream.
He turned around and the world moved a little slower than his head did. There was laughter somewhere nearby. For a moment his eyes blurred and he was met by the chest of another centaur. He had not sensed their presence, nor heard them coming. He was taken completely by surprise. As a fighter, this was very bad. Within the dream this should not have been so alarming except that he was already alert.
The centaur standing before him was enormous. Viorel only came up to the other person's chest. A man with large muscles. Too muscular. No, wait, they were just right. Just right? For what reason?
Wait, this isn't a...
He looked up, trying to catch the centaur's eye, but it was too bright; sunbeams surrounded and even reflected off of his face. Viorel backed up, trying to get out of the way, but the man grabbed Viorel by his upper arms, effectively pinning him in place with those musclebound arms. They embraced, his body practically melted into the other guy and they kissed. He felt hot and dizzy and he could not fight this man's advances. He felt that he did not want to, either.
But, he had already recognized that it was in fact a dream. What was wrong with it? Why did it seem so strange? Why did he have to fight it? Why does anyone fight their dreams? And he was valiant in his efforts, finally ignoring whatever the other centaur might be doing to him. To the underworld with this fake field of roses. And to the underworld with with that fake centaur.
Trouble of it was, that centaur was totally his type. It was a shame that body wasn't real. He wanted to cry. Why couldn't he be real? He probably would not have fought it if he were real.
The fight to regain consciousness took several tries. Each time the dream shifted he recognized it and fought it. One dream featured his mother trying to act like his mom. He did not get a good grasp on the dream because he quickly recognized little differences in her that he would not be able to identify with words. It was not his mother, and the realization was chilling. An impostor had assumed her identity! Three more dreams came and went like that. Something about each dream gave it away.
Finally, he awoke…
The moon had shifted, but it was still bright, he could almost see colors. A chill on the fragrant breeze gave him a shiver. He remembered the smell of those roses nearby and in his dream: they were one and the same. He was no longer afraid but his heart still pounded in his ears. The adrenaline chilled him.
He looked around and saw that he had arisen in his sleep and walked away from the camp. Where was he? He was at the edge of the ravine, quickly losing traction. Losing ground. "Whaa--!" His hooves scrabbled on the loose soil and pebbles without purchase. "No. No!" He did not cry out for help. No one was around. But he did react verbally. How could he not? Though the ravine was shallow, at the bottom of it was a stream of unknown depth and speed. It was absolutely capable of drowning him.
He leaned back as far as he could to distribute his weight toward his hindquarters. Get the weight off the front. It only slowed his slide. Eventually, he fell into the stream, and while he was able to stand in it, the more he moved the more the bottom swirled and engulfed his legs. He slipped and his hooves began to sink. Halfway up to his knees quickly became past his knees, he nevertheless attempted to move further downstream looking for some rocks or a shallower side of the ravine. The water was cold, and it was not long before he began to shiver. It was unavoidable.
"Unbelievable." He was angry with himself. First sleepwalking then falling down here and getting stuck.
"Wait, what? I'm stuck!" Could this night get any worse? He supposed a wolf pack would round out his fantastic luck. "Come on, wolves," he growled. "Have at," he said, then muttered, "I'd like to see you try."
But someone had heard his shouts.
Viorel heard what sounded like a rock slide. It was coming nearer. Had he somehow triggered it? No, that was impossible. It was coming from upstream! He could not have caused it, but his poor luck was coming at him top speed! The closer it became though, the more it sounded like pounding hooves.
"I'm coming!" He heard a deep, brassy shout, but he could not make out the words. So he watched where a break in the trees had made way for the meadow. And aside from that, a cleared area where his camp was made at a safe distance from the grass to build the fire.
The shadows at the edge of the clearing parted and a large object emerged. It was loud and shaped like a centaur. As he approached, it became obvious that the man was a draft centaur, but just how large Viorel was unable to tell. After all, he was down low and the other on higher ground. But none of those trivialities mattered, right now he was saved!
"Hang on, I've got a rope." The newcomer got a good look at Viorel, who watched him helplessly. Then he turned away, looking for a tree to tie the rope to. After that it was a matter of getting the rope down to Viorel. "Tie it around your waist. I'll haul you up."
Could he really do that? He looked strong enough, but that actually did not mean much. A smaller guy could have gotten him out too. "Careful. I'm stuck in the mud over here."
"Okay." They got to work getting Viorel out of his predicament. He sunk further before they made any headway. Then it was again just a matter of time. When Viorel was close enough, they grabbed each other's arms and the draft centaur hauled him out. Viorel rested his head on the other centaur's chest and the other taur let him.
Though he had been crushing on someone in the town he was heading back to, his guy was here and already in White Knight Mode, and Viorel was a shoo-in for the Damsel In Distress. Gods and Goddesses, he's my type, too, Viorel thought, face aflame. It couldn't be more perfect or embarrassing!
He pushed himself away and slowly walked back toward his camp. "So, um... how did you find out about this? It happened so quickly and it's in such a random location." Was he possibly a stalker? This whole situation would only encourage someone like that.
"The thing is, I'm camped out on the hill over there." The other centaur pointed up to a hill that was overlooking this lowland. Up there a small fire could be seen.
"Oh, I see your camp."
"Yeah, I noticed you down here and saw you make your way over to the creek. It was hard to tell you had fallen in, so I didn't come over at first. Then, I decided to check on you."
"How neighborly of you," Viorel teased. "In all seriousness, I am surprised. It was such a random occurrence. I was sleepwalking. And the funny thing is," he laughed, then slowed down, "you were in it."
"That's impossible. I had a dream and you were in it. It has to be you, I have never seen anyone with a braid like yours except for in that dream. You were even wearing jewelry like what you're wearing now."
Surely the spirits had played with fate. Viorel voiced that opinion a moment later.
"I suppose so," the other centaur said carefully.
"I am headed to the town over there." Viorel pointed in the direction he was traveling. "If you like, you are welcome to share this site with me.
"I would have to douse the flames at my camp. I would have to head back later either way."
"Of course."
"In fact, if you are all right now, I should probably head back."
"Right." Certainly whatever mischief the spirits had been up to, tampering with their dreams, reality was different than that simple world. This centaur seemed to be retreating. Still, he had to ask! "Though, it's not that far. I would not mind traveling back with you, if you aren't in a hurry."
"True, it is not that far," the stranger said thoughtfully. "Wait, you would? Would you?" he stammered.
"Though the spirits brought us together like this, in such an utterly embarrassing way, sir, you are without a doubt my Type. That is not a damsel, but 100% myself talking."
They laughed together. The stranger helped Viorel dismantle his tent and put out the fire with a bucket of water Viorel had brought up from the stream earlier in the day. Viorel was by nature cold and awkward, but he had learned many things as a merchant, and one of those things was how to talk in an easy manner with a customer. So he engaged in small chatter with this other centaur, his hero. They had a few laughs, even, with enough material from tonight alone.
Then they made their way safely back up to the other camp, hand in hand. Neither one minded, so why not? This camp was further away from town but it had a beautiful view of the countryside around it and promised a breathtaking sunrise in a few hours. Until then, they had a few ideas for passing the time.