Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The walk to the breeding grounds was long and hard no matter the age of those walking it. Despite it being done once a season every year for the first five years of her life Mirabel had never felt more nervous then she felt at the moment. 

Her hooves felt rough against the rocky pathways and hard packed dirt as she walked alongside her mothers, grandmothers and sisters. She frowned nervously, looking back over her shoulder at the twisted mountain paths from the wooded glens to the valley nestled tightly between the mountains they had already transversed. 

She gave a little shiver, pulling the soft tattered fabric of her woolen cloak over her shoulder to shut out the chill. It was a cooler spring than normal, a fact her Abuela had lamented over and over as they planned their journey. As the old Dame of the herd it was her job to assess the risks, to decide when to migrate and how to arrange it. Mirabel had thought that at this point she would not be willing to make the trek and would opt to stay behind with the other older nannies and the females who did not wish to breed or had yet to come into their heat. The trek was not for every female and there were plenty of valid reasons to avoid the trying climb. 

It was the reason this was her first trek in ten years, as was tradition she had stopped right after her weaning and had never again walked the path. Up until the previous winter she has been too young and not able to breed.  As a doeling it would not have been her place to accompany her fertile mother to the breeding grounds in the spring.  She had often made the trek to the nursery grounds a little ways away, joining her mother Julieta and her family after the mating was complete. This year would be different though, she had bled for the first time this year, signifying she was of age to conceive lambs of her own. She would now be with the herd during the mating months, something she was both excited and nervous about. 

For a long time only their mother had gone. She and their Tia Pepa had led the females of breeding age while their Abuela remained with the nannies and cared for herself, her sisters and her cousins. Then Camilo had turned five and had gone with her Mama and Tia and had not returned, the same year she had been purposely weaned and forced to remain in Abuela’s care. She had wept for months following the absence of her playmate. Unlike female lambs the male kids were always present at the mating times. Their jobs were to stand lookout while the bigger males mated, a sort of training exercise for the sentry duties they would be expected to perform as soon as they were old enough to do so. Their role was a necessary one, threats existed at all times and did not lessen just because a female had gone into heat, it was their job to ensure the next generation of the herd was protected when the big males were at their most vulnerable. 

It was a very important job, Abuela had said when Camilo had asked why he had to go away. Defending the herd was the entire reason the males lived separately from the females for a good portion of the year. The males would stay with the herd when they migrated to the fragrant clover fields of the whelping grounds and then, when the cold time came the males would grow their thick wooly coats and go to the forests to keep the herd safe and ward off the hunters. 

She knew what happened there. Everyone knew. The forests were a dangerous place. Her Abuela’s mate, Abuelo Pedro had been taken by a hunter. Brutal creatures with their sharpened sticks that sang in the air and sliced through a Satyr’s body like nothing at all. Humans, they were called. Horrid monstrous creatures that would take their hides and rip a male's horns right from his head, leaving him to be fed on by wolves and all manner of terrible creatures instead of allowing him an honourable death. 

They were creatures from nightmares she had even heard sometimes the humans would eat their flesh itself. Dark stories that kept kids and lambs closer to their Mamas when they wanted to wander. They were not a the mercy of such monsters, it was the males who kept them safe. The males were big and strong with their sharp hooves and sharper horns a solid male could take down a human or two. 

She hoped to never see a human. No part of her ever wanted to see that sort of fate close up. Not for her nor any member of her herd. 

They need not fear, Abuela had said. Their valley was well hidden, the mountains were high and the forests were dense. It was only in the winter, when the wide lake that surrounded their home froze, that humans could walk upon the ice and present a real danger. It was the reason the males marked the ice, using horns and hooves to weaken it and keep the waters close to the surface. Those who fell in the cold waters did not come out of them, be they satyr or human alike. It was dangerous work but necessary.

She trailed behind her Mama and sisters carefully, trying not to draw attention. Next to Abuela her eldest sister, Isabela, walked unperturbed by the rocky terrain. Isa was known for being the prettiest of the herd. Even on her third season without whelping there were high hopes that she would breed with the best male and have beautiful lambs. Mirabel didn’t doubt any of it for a moment. Her sister had long, lucious black hair that hung to the small of her waist in perfect shining waves. Her flanks were a dark brown-black and gleamed with the same soft shine as her hair. In fact, the only variant in her lovely uniform colour was a thin line of white around her hooves. Mirabel did not remember their sire too well (she had last seen him at age five) but she did remember he had white in his coat. Everything about Isa was perfect, even her horns were an ebony in colour, shining clean and lovely. Mirabel often found herself looking at Isa with sad longing. She was nothing compared to her gorgeous sister and it was nearly impossible to believe they shared the same dame and sire. 

Perhaps the only thing that made things difficult was Isa’s pickiness. Mirabel had heard her Mama tell her Abuela that Isabela was extremely difficult with her suitors. Males who were not to her standards or got too close received a sharp swift kick. She had no problem screaming, bleating or hissing at any of them. Mama had said the last two years the only male who had successfully mounted her had been a big buck named Mariano. Then again, Mirabel had heard Mariano was so large he had sired at least three of the lambs born from the last breeding season and had mated even more females than that. She knew personally that he had mated both Isabela and Dolores although neither had conceived. 

He had gained both status and notoriety for being the only one able to avoid Isabela’s kicks. Once he had managed to get past her defense he was too large and heavy for her to dislodge. Abuela seemed certain Mariano and Isabela would mate in time, chose one another  and rise up to be the dominant male and female of the herd. 

Mirabel didn’t know how she would live in a world where Isabela was in charge. 

She could not recall a time when her older sister hadn’t tried to establish dominance over her. For some reason Isa always seemed to single her out, maybe because they had the same parents or maybe because their Mama babied her so, either way her sister never missed a chance to hiss at her, snap or kick dirt up at her. Truly Mirabel didn’t understand why. She was nothing compared to her sisters. Isabela was gorgeous, and Luisa was one of the most lovely and powerful Does in the herd. She was nothing compared to them. She was smaller than Isa but without her sister's strong flanks and flat stomach. She retained the plushness of her lamb fat that her Mama had always said would go away once she was grown but had yet to do so. Her breasts were rounder and fuller than Isa’s, making it harder to run, and while her sister had inherited their Mama’s sleek smooth coat Mirabel had not. Her fur was the same chocolate brown as her Mama’s but with white spots all over her backside and running down her legs. Again, it was something common in little lambs but not so much in adult females. Even her fur itself was not as lovely as Isa’s. She had curls, little tufts that stuck up at odd angles and were impossible to smooth down with the thick boar brushes they used. It was not the tight soft curls Dolores had or even the chocolate finger waves Luisa had. It looked…messy. Untamable. The same as the riotous curls that grew from her head that were so thick her Mama had sheared them off to keep burs from getting trapped in them. Now her hair bobbed at her shoulders, so short that it almost looked masculine, yet another strike against her when trying to attract a mate, according to Isa. 

It all combined to create a hard bit of anxiety deep in her belly. It also did not help that she alone was one of the few females that would be presented this season with no females following her. The season she and Camlilo had been born had been a hard and long winter. In the end only she among the females had survived while Camilo and two other male kids had lived. It happened, there were good seasons and bad, but it resulted in her being isolated for the most part. IT had taken a few years for the Does to become healthy enough to start lambing again and so she was left without any real friends her age.  Dolores, Luisa and Isabela were all close in age to one another but far enough from her that her littleness annoyed them. They tolerated her but it was clear they would rather she go off and play elsewhere and leave them to their devices.

Once the males of her season had been taken she had found herself alone. It had made things difficult but now moreso than ever.

She looked up and watched as Mama gave a glance back and offered her a soft bleat. Urging her forward. Skittering she hurried to obey, tucking herself to her mother’s side. Her mother wrapped her up in her own shawl, nuzzling to calm her and cooing comfort. She knew how these things worked. There was no pressure to breed now. It was her first heat. The purpose of her first season was not that she might mate or attract a mate but, rather, watch and learn; to see what the mature dames did, to see how the rituals were performed. She was to watch the displays, see the males compete with one another to decide which male she might want to grant her attention too. Most females chose Mariano. As the largest and strongest that was no question who the top sire should be. Her mama had lamented that long ago her Papa had Tio Felix had been the top sire and Tia Pepa had high hopes Camilo would have a chance to prove himself. Mama had merely laughed. Mirabel had wrinkled her nose at that.

It took hours to get to the mating grounds and as they crested the mountain top Mirabel paid close attention to her first sight of this place she had heard so much about over the years. It was a lovely area; a valley with a clear running stream secured between the various mountains. There was a canopy of trees to provide cover but beneath it the ground was mostly cleared. She could see the scraped off bark and the recently scented trees, a guide post to them left by the herd males. All around her the female of her herd scattered. She followed along close behind her Mama as Isabela and Dolores went off together, bending low to scent the left markings on the trees. 

As soon as they did she watched as her sister squatted down and urinated at the base of the tree, kicking her hooves in the soft dirt as she did. Mira wrinkled her nose. She could smell her sister's heat from where she stood, the scent markings she left making it very clear she had come to mate. She turned her head and watched as the other females all around repeated the process, Luisa and Dolores were doing the same as Isabela had done but near different trees, far enough away so as not to interfere with anyone else's scents. Only her Abuela and the older Dames did not bother. 

She followed close behind her mother, her little hooves slipping occasionally on the rocky dirt as the group of females fanned out, following the tree markings made by eager horns on wide tree trunks. 

She smelled the first male before she saw him. Her head tilted back and her nose sniffed at the air to catch the woodsy, musky odor that was so foreign to her but, at the same time, not at all offensive.

She turned to see him approach through the trees, followed closely by another large male and then a smattering of others. She watched in fascination as the males wound their way through the trees to join families. She didn’t know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this. It was not a flurry of mating but rather a soft affectionate reunion.  Even the large male walked up to an old nanny goat, dropped to his knees and pressed himself into her bare chest. Mirabel watched as she pulled his head against her withered breast, cooing noises of love and devotion. His mother. 

She took the time to introduce him to his sisters that had accompanied her. A necessary precaution. While there were no hard rules against mating family members, mating one's direct siblings or one's own offspring rarely led to a successful conception and therefore equated to a waste of time. 

She watched as a tall male came up to their group and pressed his forehead against her mothers. It took her a moment to realize it must be her father. Tentatively she stepped to her mother’s side, studying him. He was a lovely male, very tall with graying hair, a trim long form and brown flanks with white markings that ran along his legs. Mirabel looked down, trying to see behind her and see if her own markings were like his.

They were.

She made a plaintive noise to him, a see me look at me noise that, hopefully wasn’t as pathetic as Isabela acted it was. 

He turned his attention to her and stared for a moment before a smile spread across his face. She danced around him the moment she saw the affection in his eyes, bounding on her legs and hopping in a happy circle. He leaned forward, nuzzling her affectionately in a way that fully acknowledged their connection before he found his way to her Mama’s side. She snuck in next to him, delighting in the new person who seemed to be pleased to know her, when she was roughly shoved forward. 

Stumbling she tumbled down, landing in the dirt before rolling to look up gracelessly. In her spot next to their Papa stood Isa, glaring down with her dark eyes.  Her Mama gave her sister a sharp bleat, resulting in Isabela rolling her eyes and walking back towards the younger group surrounding the now preening Mariano and Beto. 

Her mother merely rolled her eyes at her elder sister as Mirabel rushed to her feet. She frowned. She knew Abuela was not pleased that the two most eligible bucks were brothers. Such things often led to complications. Her Mama had said when she was conceived her Papa and her Tio Felix were the top bucks, resulting in a variety of offspring from their vastly different lines. She knew it was her Mama who had caught his eye and was his favourite.  

She looked up to see another male approaching her, younger looking with reddish curled flanks and curled horns. She baa-ed happily, all thoughts of Isabela forgotten, as she delighted in the appearance of her primo Camilo. Despite not having seen one another in a decade she happily bounced over to him on the tips of her hooves. He bleated back happily at her, rushing to her side. 

They pressed foreheads together, her own tiny little horns clacking softly against his larger predominant ones. At least she would have a friend to play with during this entire ordeal. She knew Camilo was unlikely to mate at this first heat either, he was not full grown and therefore smaller than the other bucks. It was likely he would remain under the radar for a few years until he was large enough and impressive enough to draw females. 

She ignored as he marked a tree nearby, obviously practicing the behavior he had been taught. It was the main reason he had been sent to live with the males under the guidance of his own father. She went over to the tree to mimic the best she could. He watched with sharp eyes as she circled the tree and then, tentatively, chose a spot and squatted down, relieving herself. 

She felt a little silly peeing in the open, normally, in the glen, she would hide away to a corner and do her business in private. She would be careful not to leave a mess and then bathe herself in a nearby stream, or at least wash afterwards. However it seemed to be something of more significance here. Immediately, as she moved away, her primo quickly moved to investigate. He seemed inordinately interested in the puddle she had left behind that was soaking into teh dry ground but she dismissed all of it. There were reasons for his interests, she was certain of that, but she was missing that information.

 It hardly mattered. This was her first spring here, she would learn and watch. Hopefully she would understand by the time the mating season was over.

The rest of the day was spent reconnecting with the males of the herd. She received attention as the males Camilo had left with that were her own age came to her, each taking a special interest. There were other males too, older than she was, that were larger and jostled for opportunities to show off their strength and skills to the Does. She had heard once that humans made noises with their throats to communicate their thoughts and feelings, she thought it clumsy when actions and smells were so much more efficient. The males her age projected their interest by nudging and jostling her. Camilo, above all, seemed to keep her close. She was grateful her primo had, apparently, not outgrown his protective streak. He seemed to want all of her attention for himself and given how desperately Mirabel had missed him she was only too happy to give it. 

Soon enough the group gathered around the big fire created by the males. As the sun set and sky darkened she watched her Abuela climb upon the raised stone platform to perform the proper ceremony for reuniting the herd. They all sat in their family groups, her Papa pressed against her Mama with herself and her sisters around them. Even haughty Isabela took her place next to their Papa, tossing her long hair and looking perfect to Mirabel’s annoyance. Close by Tio Felix and her Tia Pepa snuggled close together with Dolores and Camilo around them. Antonio, their youngest lamb, was there as well but looked less settled. Mirabel cooed softly as he scampered away from his own family and tucked himself to her side as if it were where he was meant to be. 

She had been caring for him for the last few years, he had been very small and sickly so while the breeding females made their journey her Tia Pepa had opted to leave the little one in her care while she went to see their Tio. It was not normal but Abuela had thought it for the best. There was no reason to risk Antonio’s safety and more than one milking female had opted to stay behind to act as wet nurse. It was more important to potentially grow the herd than it was to devote Tia Pepa’s resources into raising one male.

Under her care they had grown close and Antonio had grown strong. However their close relationship was more complicated than that of normal cousins. Mirabel winced slightly as he attempted to suckle off of her empty teets, gently pushing him from them all too aware he was doing so far comfort opposed to nourishment. His Mama still produced milk for him but this would also be the season in which he was weaned. He was all too aware of what was coming and she felt for the little lamb, with his dark skin and inky black curls he was not very adept at blending in with the mountain surroundings. She could feel him trembling with fear and anxiety even now at their impending separation. 

She quelled her own fears by assuring herself he was in a better position than most males. At the age of five, when Camilo had been left with her Tio, he had yet to breed a son. Males were rarer than females and out of all her grandmother’s descendants Camilo had been the first boy of five successful births. Antonio arrived a full decade later. Her Tio had no other sons and no experience rearing a lamb. Camilo seemed to have survived well enough and now Antonio would benefit from having two males looking out for him. 

She felt for those males who had no one. They were left to the mercy of the herd, hoping a male without their own offspring would take pity and take them in. She had heard of more than one lamb dying in a harsh winter when resources were low and males were more invested in ensuring the continuation of their own line opposed to that of a rival or absent male. 

They all knew the story of her Tio. Her Mama and Tia had had a brother and when their Papa had died at the hands of hunters no one had been willing to look after the young buckling. They had seen him the first few seasons following his separation from his Mama. He had been thin and small, not very adept at the hard life of a Buck. Then, her Mama said, they had made the climb one year and he was gone. Never to be seen again. Such was the fate of some males but Mirabel could only hope Antonio was not to share their unknown Tio’s future.

As their Abuela spoke she tucked him to her, letting him press himself into her lap. His parents merely glanced to ensure he was safe before continuing to cuddle one another, pleased with their own reunion. 

Mirabel took only minimal notice of the males watching her. It didn’t matter in the least as long as they were not a threat to the boy in her arms. She snuggled Antonio tightly to her, ignoring the huffing noises Isabela was puffing out behind her for reasons unknown. She was silenced soon enough as their Abuela raised her arms to signify the beginning of the ceremony. As prideful as Isa could be she knew it would be beyond all redemption to act rudely towards their matriarch.

As Abuela told their story. Through sound and motion she reminded them how the males and females would come together and split apart. How their males were strong and defended them. How their females were fertile and grew the herd. The strength of the male muscle is the strength in the female milk. It was a constant reminder of their equality and roles. No one Satyr was more important than another. Each had a purpose to work towards the betterment of the herd.

Then came the giving of gifts. 

She watched as females from the herd approached the males with thick woolen cloaks. Over the season females collected their woolen sheddings and those of their lambs, weaving the soft offerings into sturdy cloaks for protection against the elements. Mirabel watched as her Mama presented her Papa with a beautiful clock, taking the one from his back and replacing it with the new one. Her Mama was not alone, a few other females approached her Papa and handed over cloaks woven from the wool of offspring he had sired on them. 

While he had chosen her Mama as his true mate it did not mean he had not fathered lambs on other females. She noted the same practice occurring across the way where her Tia Pepa was taking offerings for Tio Felix. She smiled as Tio Felix accepted them gratefully before whispering to her Tia. Pepa’s offering was obvious as her fur and flanks as well as Dolores’ had the rare red colour of fire that rarely cropped up in the herd. She handed it over to Tio Felix who motioned sharply and wrapped it around her primo Camilo’s shoulders. Too young to have fathered any lambs of his own it was the common practice for males to cloak their sons in the offering cloaks they did not intend for themselves. Warmth was important in the cold forest winters and without a cloak surely a young Satyr would die of exposure, She was also told it was to show the male bucklings how important fathering kids was. It was the act of breeding that kept them warm, entitled them to resources and helped the herd. 

The ritual part of the gathering completed the rest of the night was devoted to Mirabel’s favourite practice; frolicking. Various males and females gathered pulling out their horns and pipes, other instruments they began playing while others danced around the fire. 

The wagons they had brought up containing the harvest of the year were brought forth, wine flowed between the group as did milk for those who preferred it. She watched as Abuela spoke with her Papa and Tio, organizing the transfer of supplies to sustain the male camp over the winters. Dried foods, soaps and blankets; all items Mirabel and the female portion of the herd produced over the year were handed over. Young male lambs (there were three this year including Antonio) were allowed this opportunity to bond with their new male caretakers. She let Antonio stray from his safe harbour of her arms to wander to his father and brother. 

She watched carefully as her primo Camilo reached down to lift his brother up, placing the little male on his shoulders. She sighed in relief. At least she knew he was cared for. 

The other males came to them and began to interact with the younger breeding females. Her Mama, who had never successfully bred after her own difficult birth, urged Mirabelt dance. She needed little encouragement. She might not be strong like Luisa or graceful like Isabela but she had a love of dancing. Happily, she twisted and turned, jumping and happily cavorting around the base of the campfire. Soon enough Camilo joined her, showing off his own lovely red wool cloak. She smiled as he kept at her, dancing alongside her as he had when they were children, butting his head against her cheek. It was fun to play with him once again. It had been a long time since anyone had wanted to play with her with the exception of Antonio. 

Soon enough the little lamb joined the two of them. While Camilo huffed through his nose at Antonio’s intrusion Mirabel did not care. She loved her tiny primo and the way he wanted to snuggle close to her. Soon enough she had stopped her dance, Camilo moved onto other females, like his sister and Isabela ,while Mirabel gathered the little one in her arms and took a space near the caves the males used as a central part of their camps. 

Sleeping areas were divided for Matrilineal family lines. 

She watched as many breeding females offered Mariano and Beto spots at their fire with warm thick blankets, supplies of fresh clovers, fruits and sweet hay, trying to lure them into a soft nest, showing what a good sleeping spot they could offer. She watched as her Papa followed closer behind her Mama, not surprised when she bent low to gather hay and make their beds. He was already bending low, shoving his nose between her legs to sniff at her with interest, earning a happy coo from her mother. She watched with interest as her Mama seemed to pause, allowing the intrusion with her chocolate tail pulled high to grant him access before she wagged it enthusiastically. Mirabel wondered what her Papa was looking for before she watched him set his hands on her Mama’s hips and mounted her.

She was not surprised at the action however it was the first time she had ever really seen a mounting and her interest in the act was keen. They were mates afterall and after such a long separation Mirabel was aware they would want to breed. She knew would be seeing plenty of mating overtures over the next few days but it was still shockingly simple because she could tell it was not a real coupling. He only gave a few shallow thrusts before separating from her and sniffing again at her Mamas hind quarters again.

Mirabel gave a plaintive baa, calling attention to herself and her now sleeping Antonio. Her Mama perked her ears up at the nose. Maternal instinct won out over mating and she watched her Mama move towards her to nuzzle her gently before doing the same to little Antonio. Her Papa watched from a distance smiling at the obvious display of maternal care before grasping her mama by the hips once again and pressing affectionate kissing on her neck.

Mirabel watched as  Mama and Papa moved off to a different area, likely to mate again, while she snuggled into the soft hay. Antonio had slept with her for years, preferring her gentle attention to even his own Mama’s. It was a habit developed in her time away mating and Mirabel had no issues with allowing the little one to rely on her. Her Mama and Abuela believed it showed a good, natural instinct for mothering and, in truth, Mirabel loved caring for the little lambs of their flock. She enjoyed little ones and was eager to have some of her own, however that came about. Her fear was geared towards the act of taking a mate rather than the resulting consequence of becoming mother to a lamb all her own. 

As she shifted slightly, settling in for the night she ran her fingers through Antonio’s thick curls, cooing to him in soothing tones. Tomorrow the courting would begin for true. She was nervous about it but, as she held him, perhaps I wouldn't be too bad. The males her age seemed nice enough and she had very much enjoyed Camilo’s intentions. She wondered if they were something more than just familial interest. The thought brought a blush to her cheeks but she banished it away. There would be time for such thoughts in the dawn’s light, right now was for resting and sleep. 

***

When she awoke she did so in a huddle of her family. Antonio was tucked into her, sleeping with his head just beneath her breasts and his little legs tucked up tightly. She was spooned behind him to keep him sheltered and warm. At her back was Luisa and then, in front of her was her Mama. Her Papa was sitting upright but asleep, her Mama’s head in his lap as he faced towards the entrance of the cave. She had heard this was the way. Males would sleep upright to watch over their families. 

Mirabel looked through the dim light of the cave and saw the other males positioned the same way. She could even see her primo Camilo sleeping upright alongside his own Papa. Abuela was snuggled near her Mama’s back, a thick blanket over her ancient shoulders. 

The urge to relieve herself came upon her quickly. Slipping out of the pile of her relatives Mirabel pranced to the edge of the cave and took a quick look around. The morning light was just warming up the sky, making it bright enough to see but just barely. A heavy fog  had descended in the night and made her visibility a problem. Her instincts did not like that, it would make it difficult for others to see her or, more importantly, for her to see a threat from a distance. 

Her Mama and Abuela had been clear. The closer they got to the forest and then to the heavy raging mountain pass river the more dangerous it was. They were pressed against human territory. She must be careful. 

She took a few tentative sniffs before necessity moved her forward. She would go quickly. She would relieve herself and then return to the safety of the cave. 

She moved into the wooded forest, towards the courtship meadow. She could spotted the rock her Abuela had stood upon and the smoldering remains of the large fire. Carefully she settled to a nearby tree, close enough so she could see both the cave and the wide open space. Squatting low she relaxed and let the stream of urine flow, training her eyes outward, looking for movement. She finished up, intent on getting back to the cave as soon as she could. 

She did not hear the male approaching until he was right there. 

The deep inhale caught her off guard, pulling a high pitched cry as two large hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her up as if she weighed nothing.

She attempted to pull away, bleating sharply and kicking backwards as she had seen her sister do. She connected and managed to look over her shoulder to see who had grabbed her. It was a male. One of the bigger ones but not Mariano or Beto. 

He held onto her fast, putting painful pressure on her pelvic bone as he attempted to keep her steady. The male was too large and too close for her kicking to do much damage. She struggled desperately against his grip finally,  making contact with his knee.She heard the sharp cry of pain followed by his own angry bleat. His hands tightened even more on her waist, so forcefully that it felt like he was  grinding her bones. She let out a cry of her own, trying to twist and turn from his grasp just to relieve the pressure.

Soon enough she felt him press his weight against her back, similar to the way they had when she was little and used to play with Camilo in the meadows. However this was nowhere near as carefree and fun as her time with her primo. The male was forcing her knees to bend and pressing her into the hard ground, creating a position that would be advantageous for him to mount her with as little care for her wellbeing as possible. Becoming fully aware of her predicament Mirabel cried in distress; like this she couldn’t kick him or lash out at all. The weight of him was huge and she felt his size over hers. His body eclipsed hers as he bullied her into a position he liked.. 

Fear and alarm spiked and she cried out for help. Perhaps her Mama and her Papa were awake now. She worried she was too far from the cave.  

She felt him using his knee to separate her legs. He pushed between them, his thigh hitting her cunt in a way that made her squirm and struggle. He raked his leg back and forth which might have felt good had she not been bent in half. Her panic began anew when she realized she was spread wide now with his legs inside of hers and  something hard and wide pressing against her exposed sex with insistent pressure. Crying out again she began to struggle, desperate to get out from under him as she felt his hips flexing forward not with enough force to breach her but when enough to make clear his intent to do so. The head of him pressed into her, stretching her small hole painfully over his too large cock. Adrenaline coursed through her blood at the panic and she panicked. She kicked frantically, terror fueling her to struggle to buck and twist in every possible way in a desperate effort to dislodge him.  

She wasn't sure what she hit or how she managed it but soon she felt herself slipping free of his hold. His hands grasped at her but her jerks and kicks and erratic twisting allowed for a mere moment of freedom, one sparse second of opportunity was all she needed and Mirabel took it the moment it was offered.

She took off at an alarming pace across the grassy meadow in a blind run. She could not tell if the male was pursuing or if he had given up but either way she felt the phantom sensation of him pinning her down of the hardness pushing into her sore sex kept her moving. She paid no attention to where she might be going, only aware that the best direction was the one far away from where that male had been. She dove over valleys and ditches, through undergrowth bushes and trees, scrapping her skin and wool along the way. The adrenaline had not even left her system to the point where she noticed the sharp cut off of the landscape or the sensation of tumbling.

She fell over crying out in terror at the way the earth disappeared beneath her hooves and the pain exploded as she hit root and rock head over feet. She felt the cold shock of water embrace her and the vague awareness that no one who went into the freezing water came out of it. The fleeting thought only had a moment to materialize before the heavy darkness slipped over her at which point she felt nothing at all. 

*****

When Mirabel woke it was slow and painful. At first there was a groggy sensation, and the strange feeling that she was both sweating and also shivering. She bleated weakly, trying to call out for her Mama or her Papa. Anyone who could help her. She knew she was thirsty and not alone when she eagerly lapped up the water that was placed at her lips, taking in as much as she could before crying out plaintively when it was taken away. Soon enough more was replaced and she took a few more laps before laying her head down in exhaustion. She was still thirsty and the world felt wrong but her immediate need was sated enough to allow for a moment of calm.  

Her feeble mental resources took stock of what she knew of her situation. 

Her head, oh how her head hurt. She couldn't remember a time when it ached with such intensity. She closed her eyes as even the dim light of wherever she was spiked pain through her eyes. Whimpering she tried to get up, shocked when her own arms wouldn’t support her weight in the least. She was in pain, without sight and unable to rise, the reality of her predicament needed no real explanation. It was a bad situation for any satyr- those who didn’t rise often never rose again. Crying in frustration and fear she felt hands on her, not the grasping painful hands she remembered she was trying to escape but a softer, gentler hold that was firm but  without any open intention of harming her. She let those hands press her back into a rough bed of straw. Her eyes opened slightly and  were drawn to a fire, strangely located within the cave she was in. She also noted she was being covered with something, something warm and heavy. 

Little pieces of something were brought to her mouth. She opened meekly, all too aware she was not strong enough to fight whoever had her. It was surprising when flavour burst forth, tangy and vibrant in a way she had never known before. This was not an apple nor the more bland or sour kind of berries she was used to. Lovely and delicious she decided to focus on the taste, letting it override her pain and give her a brief moment of solace. 

She soon fell asleep again to the sensation of someone fumbling around near her and long fingers dragging through her hair in an attempt at comfort. Full and sated she decided there was no need to fear whoever was with her.

Waking up the second time was more eventful. It was day first of all. The darkness of night had gone away and, instead the warm light of a sunny afternoon cast itself through small shafts in the cave. She pushed herself upright, happy to be able to gain a seated position despite the inordinate amount of strain it took. 

Her surroundings were strange, like no den she had ever seen before. 

The cave itself was wide and cavernous. She was laid on a thick mat of moss that was covered with strangely woven leaves and fabrics but much wider than most of the nests she had slept in and raised off the ground somehow. In the center, not far from her, was a smoldering fire, the smoke twisting and curling upwards into the expansive dome of the cave to a small opening in the top center of the cavern. An indoor fire without the smoke. She marveled. She had never seen anything like it before. 

She looked around and found herself surprised by a few other items. A table with wooden stumps to sit upon was set up. Nearby a small shelf with various items and food stuff was packed to the brim, overflowing with an abundance she had never seen before. Other strange creations were all around her in a way she had never contemplated before. A work area, an area to store supplies. Even extra straw and bedding in a corner. Most notably there was a small pool on the far side of the cavern. She had heard of caves deep within the earth producing underground water but this one did not seem so deep. She moved to stand, trying to rise and wincing as she put pressure against her left ankle. 

She felt her legs wobble like a newborn’s before she dropped back to her knees. 

She had a few moments to collect herself when she heard someone approaching. Crawling back to the soft hay and woven mat she watched as the darkness moved and, from an unseen hole in the wall, a satyr entered. 

She stared. 

He did not look like any of the herd she had ever seen and she would have noticed. First of all he was male; or at least she was mostly certain he was. As he approached she could see he was wearing a thick shawl like blanket but not just wrapped around his shoulders as she had always learned to do. No this one had a strange addition that allowed him to cover his head and it hung low, down to his knees. She tilted her head. That was strange. Males liked to show off their horns, larger horns were meant to highlight dominance and virility. For a male to hide his horns was almost unheard of among the herd. It was also a different colour. Not the colour of his wool but rather the colour of the leaves and grass, a green tone that she had never seen in clothing before. He pulled it free from his head and then off from around his shoulders to reveal himself fully to her. 

He was thin, very, very thin. It was not the lean tall stature of her own Papa but rather the hard body of one who had endured and suffered. She could see he was also smaller than the other males she knew. Probably only a bit taller than Camilo or herself but there was no mistaking him for anything but a fully grown male. His bones were sharp and protruded visually from his body. It looked like there was not an ounce of fat on him but the muscles were not like she had seen on the males of the herd. They were sharp and strong, lean and rippling as he moved quickly. His hair was a dark brown- black colour, similar to her own Mama’s, but streaked with silver strands that caught the sunlight coming through the holes in the ceiling of the cave. His flanks were a much paler brown, it was a colour she hadn’t really seen before and she found herself admiring it. Probably the only variation was the tufted of white below his tail and seemed to sweep up to his sheath.

He puttered about, pulling a sling bag the likes of which she had never seen before over his shoulder and moving to the pantry area as he began to unload items. She watched him carefully as he went about a routine that was foreign to her; he checked the fire, ensuring the smoke was venting properly, before moving towards the pond. She saw him look at two little strings that seemed to lead into the water. To her astonishment he pulled on the string and from the water came a fish. 

She had heard of this. Of animals that lived in the water. The thing had a shimmering skin and seemed to only move by thrashing around on the stone of the cave. Her silent companion was unbothered by the frantic movement of the creature and went to check the other line, pulling another fish from the water. 

To her absolute shock he walked to the back and pulled out a long stone, black and ominous looking, and then with strange efficiency he sliced at the fish. It stopped struggling and within moments he had skewered a stick through it and was leaning the sticks over the fire. He moved to throw more wood on the fire and then leaned back. 

Tentatively, she let out a soft bah, trying to be as meek as possible so as not to anger or alarm him but also to get his attention. She did not want to surprise him, especially since she knew how good he seemed to be with a blade.

Apparently her noise shocked him anyway. He hunched low, scrambling forward with his floppy ears going straight up in the air as his head jerked to check for threats before he looked straight at her. 

Their eyes met with searing intensity. 

She pulled back, tucking her chin to her chest and lowering her gaze while trembling. Trying to make herself as small as she could. She was without any sort of defense, injured and left completely at his mercy. However, within a few moments it became clear she need not worry. The moment he realized she was scared he approached her low and slow, the way she would have done to a lost or skittish lamb. 

He reached out gently, placing a little leaf towards her as an offering. In the leaf was a collection of brilliant red berries. She sniffed at them carefully, creeping forwards on her hands and knees before grasping just one and placing it on her tongue. Flavour exploded over her mouth and she let out a delighted cry, reaching for another one immediately. After two more she watched as he crept a bit closer, tentatively he took one of the berries gently and tentatively offered it to her. She contemplated taking it for a moment before she opened her mouth for him. A little gasp of delight escaped him as she allowed him to place the berry in her mouth. After two more berries she felt a streak of boldness rush through her. She reached down and took a berry before carefully lifting it to his lips. He seemed shocked at first, surprised, before she watched the red blush wash over his cheeks. With a shy smile he opened his mouth and allowed her to place the berry on his tongue. She felt her own cheeks heat as his soft lips pressed against her fingertips, like a barely there kiss. 

They continued on for a while, taking the berries and placing them in one another’s mouths. She found herself evaluating the situation quite differently. The male she had run from had grabbed her when she was not looking, had mounted her without caring and had been willing to force lambs on her by the simple virtue of her being there. That was what she understood a male to be. This male was so different. He was tentative and careful. He wanted her to be pleased with him. She sensed it from him. He was no danger to her, not because he was not capable but because it was obvious he had no desire to harm her. 

At length the berries were gone but she found herself still hungry. She mewled in upset at the loss, not that it was the first time she had to go without food (meals were given by precedence and a non breeding female like herself was last to eat) but,instead of bellowing at her in disapproval like her Abuela would, he moved to the fire where he had placed his fish on sticks. He took one, bit into it, chewing thoughtfully before bringing the other fish to her. He motioned for her to imitate him and within moments she was delighted with the strange flaky taste. It was delicious. 

Satyrs were not opposed to the flesh of animals or fish per say. It was just unnecessary when living in the fertile valley the herd inhabited. In fact the only one allowed to partake of animals were nursing mothers. Abuela and Mama had said animal flesh helped with their production of milk and was good for the lambs. She had never had the opportunity to try it being too young and not a priority for the herd but now that she had she hoped she would get to eat it again. She ate her entire fish and bashfully took his when he offered it to her. She felt a strange warmth in her belly at his offer, never before had someone given up food for her and it made her feel…special.

So it went for the next few days. She learned a lot about her new friend. 

His name was Bruno for one. She was surprised to learn he had been one of the lambs without a father to defend him, once a member of their herd but lost to them long ago. In his third or fourth season with the males he had fled a hunter and fallen into the same swift water she had fallen prey to. It had swept him to this place. Alone, helpless and herdless he learned how to provide for himself. He had found shelter in this cave, had learned to forage and hunt for himself, and had been forced to teach himself how to survive over the years.He told her the first few years had been very hard, he had barely made it and sickness had nearly taken him more than once but as the years passed he became stronger, more adapted to his surroundings. 

He could not recall how many seasons he had been there but, from his stories, she could guess far longer than she had been alive. 

He did things…differently. Far different from any Satyr she knew. He only went out in the pre-dawn and dusk hours, retreating back to the confines of the cave when the sun was high in the sky. She assumed it was one of the reasons, despite having darker skin, he still seemed pale to her eyes. Instead of grazing he hunted and trapped, sought out and foraged foods that could be saved and dried for leaner times. And, perhaps the most strange of all, he knew a great deal about the humans. 

She was horrified when he had conveyed to her he had seen them. He stalked them and watched them for years and learned many things by following their lead. He had even learned their strange language, able to make sounds from his mouth the way they were to confuse them and keep them away from his caves. She had never heard of such a thing! Humans were to be feared and avoided! They could kill a huge buck without little to no effort with their sharpened sticks and deadly traps. However, while cautious, Bruno did not seem to fear them.  

She was impressed with him; how he learned new things and how he created tools to do things for him, to make up for the fact he was alone in this world rather than reliant on the power of a herd alongside him. He created weapons like the human weapons sharpened sticks with rocks. He created traps that made noises when humans came to close and he had stolen things from them. Rocks that made fire, foot stuffs, clothing and bags. Each new lesson and new revelation he taught her impressed her more and more. His ability to survive, his inherent cleverness coupled with his bravery, in addition to the kindness he displayed in her care seemed to create a deep well of growing affection towards him. 

On the third day she found herself butting up against him, rubbing her shoulder with his. He butted his head back, his much longer and slightly twisted horns tangling in her curls. As they carefully separated they were both red cheeked and smiling. 

On the fourth day her ankle seemed mostly healed and he had helped her outside at her request. His cavern opened into a nice grassy meadow and she had tried to frolick, running up to him and teasing in an attempt to get him to chase her. He seemed to not know what she was doing at all. Her little head butts, and her attempts to engage in play were lost upon her.  He was more concerned with getting her back into the cavern, worried about hunters in the bright daylight. She had been slightly disappointed but had made sure to wag her tail at him regardless of his eagerness to get them back into the cave.

While going outside had been a bust she felt she made a small gain that night when he slept pressed up against her. Instead of turning to create space between them she spooned against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her head to the nape of his neck, offering gentle nuzzles. The first few times she did it he would chortle and whimper at the contact, making strange noises she didn't understand, but she held on tightly, enjoying his scent and liberally breathing him in. Then, he started anticipating it; waiting for her to settle in before he did so himself so she could curl around him. Finally, one night, he herded her into their nest himself, wrapping his longer body around hers and falling asleep immediately with their legs intertwined as they slept face to face holding one another.

On the tenth day she started to notice some differences in the way he was behaving towards her. 

He began leaving the berries she liked set out for her to wake up to on little intricate displays; He positioned them in pretty little mounds  placed on little green leaves to keep them from the dirt. There were also tiny grapes and sweet clover in little piles for her to find, usually alongside some non-edible flowers. She would sit with her legs tucked under her and much with happy little bahs and bleats while she enjoyed the delights he brought to her. 

He made a habit of it,  returning from his pre-dawn forages with some special treat to entice her. Sometimes it was food, sometimes it was flowers with stems that were long enough for her to weave into her hair or other little oddities. A few times it was a strange woven wool material she wasn’t quite sure what to do with, but was interested all the same. Those days he would show it off to her before going to the pool and scrubbing it in the water and drying it in a stick configuration he constructed over the fire. 

By night, when it was dry, he would spread it over their bedding and then have her lie down. It was like wool but also not wool, either way it was soft and felt luxurious on her skin. She adored it and more so she adored the way he would wrap it around them, encasing them in warmth while pulling them closer together. 

Then, on their fifteenth day together they were basking in the flowery meadow just as the sun was setting, sitting and enjoying the soft golden light, when she turned over her shoulder and looked at him. He was studying the item in his hands, wrapping some twine he had made around a bent branch; creating snares he could use to trap smaller animals. He was preparing to trap them so that he could care for her, so that he could feed her and keep her warm and safe. The thought filled her with a feeling that had been dancing through her for quite some time but never before had it been so distinct and direct. He was a good provider. He kept her fed, he kept her safe and warm and kept the predators away. 

She did not even think about her actions consciously, she rose to her feet, angling her hindquarters at him as she began waving her tail frantically back and forth. She kept head turned and her eyes on him, watching as his attention turned to her. Immediately he seemed to take in her stance and positioning; his ears perked up, his eyes grew wide and his face was a mix of surprise and keen interest. Almost immediately he dropped what he was working on and moved towards her, approaching with definite purpose.

Mirabel giggled and continued wagging, making encouraging noises to call Bruno closer. She was pleased that she did not feel frightened the way she had been with the big male who had hurt her. When she had been in that situation there had been no intention of mating on her part and her marking had been nothing more than fulfilling a basic need to relieve herself. The male approached her and was so aggressive in his approach that panic had been the only reaction, but Bruno’s face (that did show definite traces of intent ) did not frighten her in the least. In fact, she felt the opposite. A tingle in her groin and a need that made her want to rub her legs together was present but nothing close to fear. In fat she wanted Bruno closer, needed it, and whined to let him know. 

She heard him reply, calling to her, huffing and making funny little questioning noises. Then, just as he approached her side, she squatted low, letting loose a stream of urine. 

She finally understood what her sister and the others were doing. Her instincts told her this would draw him to her and she, above all things, wanted him to be drawn. Unlike the big male who had pushed her here he had never tried to force her into mating as if it were his right. He never attempted to mount her either by her will or force; his touches were soft and gentle, his interest was strange by their traditions but not in a way she found distasteful. In fact, she liked cuddling with him, nesting close and falling asleep to the sound of his breathing and the musky scent of his throat Those soft interactions that had nothing to do with the physical act of mating had made her see just how perfect he would be as a mate. He was strong, intelligent and resourceful as a male. As a person he made her feel valued, special and cared for. 

More than that, she wanted him; not just the mount and breed her before wandering off. No, she wanted him to mate her. To stay with her and choose her despite the fact it was only the two of them. She wanted him to want her. 

Now, she felt a hot fevered burning in the flesh between her legs and the mental image of Bruno bent over her back, his hard long cock pressing into her, seemed less like an intimidating situation and more like a sought after dream. 

She felt him bend low to her, his face close to the now faltering warm liquid falling from her body. As it dried up she straightened her hind quarters but kept her tail frantically wagging. Begging for his interest. 

She bleated at him; asking, pleading, for him to do something . She did keep her head turned, and her eyes fixed on him. He was still bent low, his hands on the ground as he sniffed at the urine on the ground before following the scent upwards. Eager and excited Mirabel pressed herself lower, fully exposing her sex to his gaze as she supported her front half with her hands on the ground. 

She cried again, baahing softly, asking him to come closer and recognize her need. Still, despite her entreaties, she jumped slightly when she felt his hands on her haunches, spreading her wide as his nose investigated her hot flesh. She whined prettily as his nose pressed against her, rubbing the tender lips of her sex and inhaling deeply. Biting her lip she pressed back against him, eager and desperate for more but unable to do anything other than wait and see if her advances would be well received. After a moment she moaned in relief as she felt his mouth lock over her whole cunt, his tongue lapping against her eagerly, as if he were trying to consume her. The sensation was intense, like nothing she had ever felt before. His hands held her firmly and pulled her so she was as tight against his ever moving mouth as physically possible. 

She cried out her pleasure with abandon, clawing at the soft ground in an attempt to achor herself as her submitted to him. It took barely any time before she the coil that was tightening within her body burst forth and she shattered against his mouth. Her body shuddered, between her legs she felt a deluge of wetness rush from her alongside the mindless wild pleasure he had ignited. Whatever her bodily reaction he did not seem to mind. His mouth kept moving, over her, dragging out her screams again and again until the pleasure ebbed but the desire remained, only slightly dimmed. She panted, still bent over as he pulled away from her. It wasn't enough. 

She began crying out, bleating sharply to let him know she needed more than the pleasure he had given her. As much as his mouth had been good she felt a deep seated emptiness inside her. She needed him now. Her voice tinged with anguish as he lifted his hands from her. She was about to call out again when she felt his hands grasp her waist, felt his legs on the outside of her own legs, his chest pressing against her back and then the blunt tip of his hard cock probing at her entrance. 

Unlike the male from the camp she did not struggle. Instead of attempting to get away she raised her hind quarters and reached out, using her hands to hold herself steady for her making noises of encouragement and cooing all the while. She felt his body press down on hers, his weight shift as he slipped into her, the head of him pressing in just slightly. Then, the moment he seemed certain he was inside her, his hips thrust forward sharply. His cock was both thick and long, pushing through her tight body with both confidence and determination.  The experience might have been painful had she not been soaking wet from her previous orgasm and more than aroused. She could only let out near silent gasps and cries as his hooves scrambled for purchase on the ground before they found the perfect position to piston in and out. 

She held still and steady as he pumped into her frantically, bringing relief to the throbbing emptiness that had been building up in her the last few days. She tried to push back against his onslaught,  urging him on as he increased his pace. Something was building inside her, something greater than the pleasure she had experienced in those moments with the female herd where she played with the special place between her legs or even when his mouth had been there. With each pull and push she felt Bruno rubbing against the bud of her pleasure, offering delicious friction with each thrust. It didn’t take long before the pleasure crested over her, hard and sudden, causing her body to tighten and convulse around him. It felt different this time, her body grasping at something that was actually there opposed to the desperate clench against the emptiness she had previously experienced. 

She let out a cry of delight, feeling her own release rush around them, giving him even more slick as it dripped out of her around his still thrusting cock and trailing languidly down her thighs. As her body shivered and shook she felt his arms wrap around her waist and his body use the leverage to hump into her at a frantic pace. Within a few thrusts in this new position his body tensed, she could feel the hard flesh within her swell, then release in a sensation of warmth that spread through her. As it did he hit a part of her far deeper than before and held himself inside, desperate to ensure his seed was planted as possible. 

He took a few moments pause, holding her in place with his arms locked around her waist when he released her from his grasp. She felt him disengage, and then the regretful sensation of his softening cock pulling out of her. She looked over her own shoulder as she straightened up, a little concerned at the thick drip of white liquid that seemed to spill out from her to create a little puddle on the dirt beneath her. 

She felt Bruno at her neck, nuzzling and nudging against her. Her concern about the liquids leaving her body was banished. If she ran out she was certain he could make more to put it inside her. 

****

For the next three days it seems Bruno spent the majority of the time inside her. She couldn’t move without him mounting her, warbling and snuffing at her or even just keeping her within reach. 

Whenever she peed his head was between her legs, checking for something she was completely unaware of. Once or twice she had tried it with him, pressing herself close to him right after he had relieved himself and getting nothing but wet for her troubles. He had laughed at her, teasing her while herding her to the pool in their cavern and gently washing her face and hair until all evidence of her curiosity was gone and she was left with wet curls and a happy laugh. 

The days grew long and she felt the urgency of their coupling lessen. It did not disappear, to her surprise, merely changed its pace. Gone was the immediate need, his eager mounting and feral fucking and, instead, was mating that seemed more like a fun distraction than anything else. It was less about a need and more about feeling good. She had never really realized that sort of pleasure was an option between two mates. She was a normal satyr and, like every other satyr, touching oneself for pleasure was as normal as play mounting. They played those games as little lambs, even before they were aware of what mating was about- just as they practiced racing and hiding. She had seen all her family do it and no one was ever shy about it.  However, she had never imagined those childish pastimes and games had been preparing her for this. This was much different. Touching herself had never driven her to distraction, it was merely a pastime or something to make her feel good. While having Bruno mount and breed her was completely different; she wanted it and needed it, sometimes more than she had ever needed anything before. 

Plus, it went beyond a simple physical desire. She liked him. She liked him very much. 

He wasn’t just a giver of pleasure like Isabela had described some males, insinuating that was their only purpose. When he wasn't pushing into her making her scream in ecstasy he communicated with her, played with her and, most importantly, taught her things. He showed her how to forage and where the best berries were. He took her with him now in the early morning hours to look for food and showed her how to set traps for smaller animals that they could eat. 

He also showed her things he had made. Small sharpened stones good for cutting, how to weave reeds together to create sleeping mats and how to fish. The things she had marveled at when she had first awoken in his care were now things she was learning for herself. 

However, her love for Bruno did not fill the sadness in her heart. Still she missed her Mama, Antonio and the rest of her herd, even Isabela. She had been with Bruno for a few weeks and soon her herd would leave the breeding grounds and head towards the nursery area where they would live together as a whole community waiting for the arrival of new lambs. These were all things she had thought she would be a part of, things that would be a key element of her adulthood. Now, it all seemed like a long lost dream. 

She did not know if Bruno had made any new lambs inside her. She knew she wasn’t supposed to breed this first time around, but she wasn't too worried about the outcome. With Isabela and Dolores not having any lambs yet and having bred more than once season it wasn’t like she was carrying as of yet. 

Still, she felt like she needed her herd. She needed the safety of numbers. If they were to really be safe and birth little ones she would need her herd to raise them alongside her. 

One night she conveyed it to Bruno, that it would be best if they returned to the group. She had expected some argument on the matter but not for him to jerk away from her; angry and upset. 

He expressed he had no desire to return to those people . She felt herself well up with tears as his anger broke over her. They had never come to look for him, he had wanted them to come so badly when he was young and terrified and no one ever had. He had been fatherless, his father had died defending the herd, and because of it no one cared whether he survived or not. He would have been left to whatever predators came at him, whether they be wolves, bears or human. 

He told her the story, a story of being left by the males to defend himself, to learn for himself and to care for himself in the dangerous cold winters despite the herd being all around him. He had become because no male had ever wanted to care for him. He even doubted anyone knew he was still alive or cared. 

He had no reason to return to the herd that had cared so little for him. 

Mirabel couldn’t help but bah her distress. She could understand Bruno’s upset but she couldn’t leave her Mama and sisters. Her Tia and Primas. The herd was her family. They had never abandoned her. 

Bruno argued that in all the time they spent here no one had come looking for her. She had been with him for weeks and not one person had cared enough to search her out. SHe was just as forgotten as he was. 

The truth of it hurt. She knew it did and so did he. The fact no one had come looking for her was distinctly a sore spot that neither of them had brought up until that moment. She was lost for dead among the herd and she knew it. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. She had seen it happen before when young Does or Bucks would get lost. The safety of the herd could not be endangered for the sake of one satyr. She knew that and understood the logic of it. Still, it hurt when she was aware SHE was the one Satyr.

She curled up in a little ball and wept like she never had before. He was right. She knew it. She was lost to them. Even if they wanted to go back the only way she knew for certain to leave this place was the way she had come, it was a miracle she had survived the river once, it was unlikely she would a second time. And, even if she did, there was no guarantee that she would end up with her herd. She was just as likely to be dropped in a human settlement. 

Unaware of anything but her distress Bruno approached her tentatively, head lowered and obviously submissive and repentant at his harsh argument. He offered her food, water and then, finally, his embrace. She rushed to him, tucking herself against his chest and weeping for the realization it was unlikely she would see her family again. He cooed to her his hands gentle and soft against her curls. 

She would have him. Regardless of whether or not the option to return home, to her family and her herd, was there she would still chose him. She tried to convey her decisions but he hushed her gently. With so much tenderness he lifted her and brought her to their bed, wrapping her up and cuddling around her. There would be time for understanding, Mirabel thought to herself as she hiccuped through sobs. They would be together and they had all the time in the world. 

Three Season later….

It had been a long hard winter. Julieta strode through the thinning forests, tucking her cloak tightly against her to shield her from the unnatural chill. It had been a long hard winter;  food stores had dwindled this year forcing the herd ever outwards with limited success. 

It was not the first time she had endured a few lean years. The year she had lambed Mirabel had been such a year, where most of the Does were unable to carry to term and had lost their pregnancies simply to starvation. Miscarrying lambs due to lack of resources was a tragedy but the herd had survived. She had survived, and so had Mirabel. 

She let out a small cry of anguish at the thought of her youngest daughter. Her little one. Her smallest Doeling, lost in her first heat and gone forever. She avoided the thought for the last three years despite it always being there, lingering in the recesses of her mind.  

The large male who had attempted to force himself on her daughter had been dealt with. Both Augustin and Felix had disciplined the young Buck and he had been cast off for two full seasons, no female willing to breed with him, no lambs fathered and being forced to take on the most dangerous jobs and live on scraps. It was a harsh punishment and the only reason he had sruvived were his brother’s generosity and the entities of his mother. 

He had rejoined the herd and was a better male for it. 

Her Mirabel never had. 

They had searched the entire mating grounds, then the valley and the nursery. Every grazing ground the herd could think of. She had never been found. Camilo had been the most adamant, he had tracked her to the river and the consensus among most of them was that in her flight Mira had likely fallen into the river and drowned. There was no reason at all to believe anything else had happened. She was young, scared and had been pushed into a panic, she had little experience with swimming and those that fell in were often lost. If she had survived she was beyond their reach now. Julieta prayed she had. Let her daughter be trapped in some warm barn, being cared for by farmers. It was a better fate than being left to starve or left to the wolves. Very few satyrs survived on their own. Especially not a young and inexperienced female like her Mira had been. 

She scrambled up some rocky outcroppings. She had followed the river as far as she dared, climbing over some areas that seemed insurmountable but she had found narrow worn passages, some that looked like that had been made rather then occurring in nature. They were extremely well hidden which gave her hope that there might be food on the other side. 

Had she not been desperate she likely would have turned back. This was so far outside the herds territory, into the more wild areas where humans roamed and predators could hunt. Outside the safe walls of their mountain basin, where things were secure and no one dared braved, there were dangers more terrifying than she could imagine. 

Still, they needed food. They needed to eat and Julieta was not thinking of herself. In the last year Dolores and Isabela had both birthed their first lambs. Dolores a lovely little dark brown lamb she called Tiago and Isa, piebald twins, Isadora and Marin. No one was quite sure who the sire of Isa’s lambs were and her eldest daughter didn’t seem to be concerned with it either, although Julieta had her own suspicions. Dolores’ son was sired by Mariano who had chosen her for his mate. Still, two nursing mothers required food and her grandchildren were paramount to her. They were not yet at risk of starvation as most of the resources of the herd were reserved for nursing mother’s first, but they were getting close. 

As she pushed herself through a very tight crevice she found the rock scrapping at her. The passage was narrow, so narrow no one much larger than herself would be able to pass through. Still she pushed on, drawn in by the wet scent of grass. They had not found a green grazing field that was not a mass of dried brown and unhealthy weeds in so long Juli could barely remember the last time she had seen one. But then, suddenly, she was through the narrow spot and before her was something astounding. 

The small passage opened into a large area. Trees littered here and there, longer and thinner than the ones she was used to, She walked between them, following her nose for a long time until the foliage became even more sparse and then nearly nothing as it led to a massive pasture. She pressed her hands to her mouth. Clover. Clover and grass everywhere. She had never seen so much, verdant and brilliant and so lush. 

Then, among them something that brought her to her knees. She gripped the trunk of the tree she was pressed behind in an attempt to ground herself against the shocking scene.

Two little lambs were running and tossling in the greenery. Smaller than little satyrs she was used to, they were probably only two or three seasons old. A little Doeling and Buckling. The male was darker with deep brown flanks that shone in the sun. His little velvet horns poked through sun bleached brown curls. At his heels the tiny female bounded. Her flanks were the same piebald colours Julieta remembered so well, spotted and curly. Her little body was healthy and thicker than her brother’s, although it was clear neither of these two had ever gone without. 

Her hair was darker but not as curled as her brother. Looser and falling in waves around her shoulders and around the tiny buds of her female horns. 

They were beautiful but it was not them that caught Julieta’s heart in her throat. Near them, the female that must have been their mother, grazed and kept a watchful eye. 

It was her Mirabel. 

She was older, definitely more mature, as her thick hocks and large milk laden breasts could testify to, but there was no mistaking her for any other. The same colours on her flanks, the matured version of the small face Julieta herself had nursed and nestled to her chest so many times. This adult female was her daughter. Her little lost Doe. 

And near her a Buck. 

The male was thin and leith with slim strong muscles. He was the same brown colouring as the male buckling with the same slight build. He seemed very familiar to her, strangely so, but Juliet was certain she could not place him. 

He neared Mirabel snuffling at her with distinct interest, butting her softly with his long twisted horns. Her daughter, looked over her shoulder at the male, giving him a saucy smile before bending low and squatting, letting out a stream of urine. The male was instantly interested; pressing himself to her and making every move to make his interest clear. She watched in amazement as Mirabel wagged her tail obviously, earning a huge grin from her companion. The male wasted no time at all. His erection was evident as he moved to Mirabel, grabbed her by the hips and mounted her without delay. 

She had seen mating before. It was so common place that it barely registered, but the fact it was Mirabel had her eyes focused on them. 

The male used his hand to push her into arching her back and she watched as Mirabel locked her hips, spreading them apart so she could support most of his weight. He let out an ecstatic bleat, followed by a moaning bah from her. His hips moved erratically as his hooves sought purchase for a moment before she knew he had found the angle he was looking for. Once he was lined up she watched the male delivered a strong thrust that rocked Mira forward, forcing her to brace her hands against the ground as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his chest against her back. From her vantage point Julieta could only watch as he moved with singular purpose. His thrusts were hard and without hesitation. His arms provided leverage as his hooves made furrows into the ground. He was fast and sure in his movements, grunting out as he began hammering into her with an accelerated pace. She would have been worried except for the fact that Mirabel was pressing back against him, making pleasurable noises that made it clear she was enjoying the rough rutting. Predictably the coupling did not last long. To Julieta’s surprise it was Mirabel who finished first, not something she saw often among breeding pairs. 

Her daughter seemed to tense up, crying out and bleating, her face tilted up and eyes squeezed shut. Behind her the male picked up the pace, thrusting into her twice more with bruising force and pulling cries from the Doe beneath him, before she saw the muscle of his arms flex and lock onto Mirabel’s soft middle. He let out a cry himself, his head falling back suddenly as he pressed as tightly into her as possible.

For a moment the two of them seemed to lock together, still and unmoving. To her shock the male began pressing kisses against Mirabel’s back, whispering something to her that was obvious between the two of them. He pulled away as Mirabel straightened up. 

The moment his cock let her it was followed by a steady stream of seed, overflowing from her womb and sliding down the soft curls of the backs of her thighs. Julieta gave a soft smile, if that was common then there would be no doubt Mira would be bred again by the time this season was over. Those little bouncing lambs would have a brother or sister soon enough. 

He made a noise of distress as he watched the slick stream of white, but it was quickly silenced as Mirabel turned to him. His hands were still on her hips as she placed her arms over his neck, pressing her chest to his and pulling him down. Their lips met in a soft yet passionate kiss, continuing as they toyed with one another gently. The male ran his hands over her sides, placing them reverently on her hips. He said something to Mira that caused her to laugh softly before making cooing noises of affection and love at him. He responded in kind. 

Julieta could only stare. Her daughter, her little lamb, with a mate. In love. There was no other explanation for this display. They did not know she was there. They did not know anyone was except for their young ones who looks so much like the two of them. 

Carefully, as softly as possible she backed away. Heading towards the passage. 

She would look elsewhere for food. She would keep this place safe and secret for as long as possible. This place, this miracle place where her youngest daughter could be found, happy and alive, a mother and mate in her own right, was too precious to be overrun. With the herd came politics and complications and family. All things that were well and good but what she had seen was special. She knew it. Whoever this Buck was he had found her doe. He had kept her safe. He had bred her and obviously was thrilled to do so. She seemed happier than Julieta could ever imagine. 

She pressed herself into the tight passage once again, leaving the green grass, clover fields and her lost child behind. 

Let them have this place. Let them stay safe and lost, untouched by the hardships suffered by the herd. Perhaps she would return, bring her family and reclaim her daughter. But that day would not be today. She could keep this secret and be happy in the knowledge that whatever else befell her Mirabel was safe, happy and loved.