"What happened to Adeipho, Your Majesty?" Kyknos' voice rasped with sadness as he trotted alongside Mnesiphilos and Telamon the Oldest. He eyed the dead centaur, his older brother. His bright chestnut horse tail swatted his horse back of the same color with displeasure.
"Dead. A human shot him."
Mnesiphilos wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He shook his head and long, black human-like hair mixed with horse mane fell to the opposite side of his head. As the leader of the small tribe of centaurs that dwelled on the east side of the mountains, he had to constantly prove to them that he was capable of maintaining his role. The herd instinct was strong amongst them.
The dun centaur, Telamon the Oldest, carried the back legs of the dead centaur, while Mnesiphilos pulled the make-shift sled that supported Adeipho's upper body, into the midst of those gathered. Telamon wiped his hands on the wide leather belt holding his fur vest snug to his chest after dropping the body. He bowed his head in respect then backed away from the fallen centaur and his king. His short thick, black hair and mane stood upright and waved with his movements.
Blood stained Mnesiphilos' upper human and lower horse bodies. The hammered silver amulet of leadership given to him by the Elders glistened with sweat against his neck.
Kyknos bowed his head. "Sire, we shall seek justice?"
"Yes." Mnesiphilos patted Kyknos on his human shoulder.
"The human escaped only because of the trees and the place of the thorns," Mnesiphilos said. "I could not get a good shot. Collect everyone. We shall have the funeral. Then after, we shall seek revenge for our loss. I saw where the human came from. We shall attack by the full moon when the snow melts so they will not track us."
With a toss of his head, Telamon the Oldest turned away to prepare a death mask for Adeipho and summon the others.
Mnesiphilos rubbed most of the blood away from his body with clumps of snow. His upper human body trembled from the cold, but ignored it. He shook his head in disgust at the sight of the corpse, then turned away.
He climbed the rugged, steep incline and entered his cave on the side of the mountain. Inside, he studied the walls a moment, contemplating what he must do. First, he added a few sticks to the dying embers of the fire and warmed his body. The designs on the painted walls seemed to leap to life with the flickering light of the expanding fire. A thin veil of smoke filled the cave.
Mnesiphilos shook his head and the thick, black mane fell back into place. He grabbed a knife, the ancient phiale, then snatched the scrolls which had leaned against the wall for years. Deaths amongst his kind had been few during his lifetime and he wasn't certain he remembered the funereal ritual completely. With luck, neither did the others. He stared at the death masks of the fallen centaurs from years past with anger that soon Adeipho's would join the collection.
He quickly scanned through the ancient texts to refresh his memory, then carefully descended the mountain. He eyed the centaurs gathering near the mouth of the source of the waterfall, counting less than a dozen. He remembered the days when his tribe numbered well into the hundreds. That was back when the enchanted mares grazed with his kind. But, no longer. He hadn't seen the mares in many years. No one had.
Halfway down, he paused to hold up a hand and wait for those gathered to settle and cease their conversations. It took some time as they were excited with the scent of the blood from the dead centaur strong in their noses. They stamped their hooves against the ground. One dark bay, his middle son Blathyllos, trotted around the fallen centaur several times with flared nostrils and his head held high.
