“Now, it’s time for you to do some work,” the farmer announced, “The south field hasn’t been ploughed yet, because my last horse died for some reason. The plough is already out in the field.”
Mike trotted out obediently, heading for the south field. Internally, he was horrified at how poorly his adventuring career had turned out. But the magic saddle ensured compliance.
Within ten minutes, he had managed to harness the plough to himself, and begun the arduous task of ploughing the hard dirt of the south field. He labored until dusk, when the work was finally completed. Despite his new size, it was exhausting work, and his entire body was wet with sweat. He looked up, and saw a slight figure approaching him. It was an attractive young woman.
“Hello, I’m Nia,” she introduced herself.
“Mike,” came the centaur’s short-breathed reply.
“Father says I am to take care of your care and feeding, centaur Mike.”
Mike’s stomach growled loudly; after an entire afternoon of dragging the plough without rest, he was famished.
Nia giggled, and then approached Mike, and touched the saddle with her hands. She whispered strange words to it, and then stepped back.
“Father told me the words,” she grinned, “so I can give you orders, too. Now, go back to the barn, and take the plough with you – we don’t want it getting ruined in the rain.”
Mike dragged the heavy plough back to the barn, as Nia returned to the farmhouse. Several minutes later, she returned, holding a large basket.
“Put the plough over there,” she instructed, pointing to an empty corner. Mike gratefully unharnessed himself from the plough, and hauled it to its appointed place. After he did so, Nia instructed him to take a seat. Mike happily went to the floor, in the way that horses do. Nia opened the basket, and brought out a bottle of water, and handed it to Mike. He immediately drank every drop. Nia then pulled out bread, cheese, and sausage from the basket. They were all a little old, but Mike’s hunger was so great, that they tasted like a great feast. Finally, after finishing all the food in the basket and draining another water bottle, Mike was content. Nia smiled at him, just as her father’s voice carried across the yard, calling her name.
“I have to go, centaur Mike,” she announced, as she gathered up her basket and the empty bottles, and then scurried to the house.