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Date Posted: 17:02:33 03/09/02 Sat
Author: Centaur, hunting beasts
Subject: Randomness...

Galloping hooves are the first thing to be heard in the dank, dreary forest in centuries. The next thing is snarling and barking. A dark form races past molding creepers and entangling vines, ebony hooves imprinting a trail upon the damp ground. Hulking, slavering beasts chase the fleet-footed creature, their red eyes gleaming in the gloom. "Ah hell," the hooved one swears as she flattens her torso, tucks her arms in, and leaps gracefully over a six-foot log. Ebony hair whipping in the speed of her passage, the silky hair trailing down her neck and partially down her back in a full-fledged mane, the centaur darts around a tree whose girth spans a hundred meters.

One of the pursuing beasts passes its fellows and nears the fugitive's flowing tail, then leaps, wicked jaws wide. Almost easily, she kicks, one cloven hoof crushing the beast's skull and sending its burly form tumbling into the fungus-ridden foliage. Twisting her torso again, the centaur shoves her way past vines and roots that seem to reach for her, trying to entangle her well-toned limbs in their grips, trying to stop and hold her for the hunting creatures to feast upon. With a wry expression for her imagination, the black-skinned sprinter reaches an open path, obviously abandoned and just as obviously once used with great frequency.

Now with no wicked foliage to slow her down, the centaur turns her mind to a full-speed gallop, easily outdistancing the six or so beasts left. Breathing deeply, she briefly straightens her torso to untwist the deerskin draped across her upper self, tugging at the laces to rearrange it so that it doesn't hinder her breathing. Deeply blue eyes scan the path ahead, checking for possible ambush. As far as she can see, it's safe. Sweat glistening on her dark skin and her ebony fur beaded with old dew from passing through the unnamable forest, the centaur continues to flee for her life.

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