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Tharn stood for a moment, his nostrils flaring as he sampled the wind. There were no unusual scents he could detect, nothing to make him fearful. The colt let the tension slowly ebb from his body, taking his drinking skin from his side to slake his thirst from the sweet water inside. He was making good progress, but he would need to find a place to shelter soon. At least there were no wolves around.

He looked to the horizon, seeing the Great Stallion beginning to rise above the mountains in the distance. It would be fully light soon, and another day would begin. The Great Mare hung in the sky too, ever so slightly smaller than her fullest. She had birthed her colt and would shrink to nothingness before the Great Stallion's seed brought her to her fullness again.

So the circles of life and time continued for the equines of the valley.

Tharn trotted on at his steady pace, pushing his way into the wind so he would get advance warning of any danger. His mind was elsewhere though he knew he should be concentrating now. Three days he had been on his Trials. He would be out here in the wilderness until the Great Mare was full again, 26 more nights and days. For most equines of his tribe, the prospect of solitude was terrifying but he welcomed it. Then again, he was not a normal colt.

For every colt there came the time to make the transition from colt to stallion, and take a mate. The origins of the traditions of the valley horses were like the rich grass, always there even though you didn't know where they came from. They just were. Tharn, always a difficult colt, could not stop himself asking the question why, even though he did not expect an answer.

So his own turn had come, as his 18th summer began, and he had set out far from his tribe as was custom, alone with only his wits, a long knife, a water skin, a set of fire flints and the short kilt of an uninitiated colt. As the Elder intoned the sacred text, commending his fate to the Great Stallion, the questions had boiled inside him but he kept them in check, face impassive as was expected. He was a dutiful horse.

As he had wandered the trackless lands seeking a base to stay for his trials, the questions kept coming back. Why? Why was it only the colts sent out? Why did his people risk their lives in this tradition simply to mark their 18th year? Why did I need to take a mare as mate?

He knew the reason for his questioning, though he didn't like to remember.

Vannar. His friend, sweet and kind. Their lives had run almost in parallel, only a year apart in age but in all other ways close as twins, one soul in two bodies. Vannar, whose smile, laugh, and most of all the sight of his naked body could make him feel warm all over, groin tingling and burning with the need for release. He would hide in his tent, letting his fingers grip his growing colthood and pretend it was Vannar, his love, doing these things to him, the pleasure building until with a cry he would spend on his chest.

He had loved him so much, even though he knew he was not supposed to. It was too right, too perfect. He was going to confess his love ,beg Vannar not to take a mate when he returned from his Trials, to take him instead, and but it was not to be. He had stood at the gate of their lands, almost a year ago, waiting his return, but like many of those sent for the Trials, the Great Stallion had called him to his herd.

As the light built in the sky, he looked up to the heavens, counting the stars while he could. When the Great Stallion called another of the people to his side, tradition said a new star would appear, a member of his herd in the heavens to look down upon his people in the valley. He hoped Vannar could see him, though he did not know which of the multitude of jewel like lights was his friend and love. It was another of the awkward questions he wished to ask, but didn't.

As the day wore on and the heat grew, fatigue built in him, but he kept on. Coming over a small ridge, he spied a narrow river in the distance, the long line of trees on its bank an obvious tell-tale sign. Between him and the river lay a short stretch of grassland and line of small hills. If he made good time he would be there before evening. There would be sweet grass, and water to replenish his stocks, and shelter.

There could be danger too, as he was well aware. Water would draw all sorts of creatures, and those who sought to prey on them. He was confident though; as well as fatalistic. If the Great Stallion called him, he could be with Vannar again in His herd, and finally tell him what he felt.

He pressed on through the afternoon, legs tiring but persisting. A place such as this was what all the colts talked about when they whispered late at night, sharing their hopes and fears for their own time. Though they always begged the stallions for information, they were met with silence, as was custom, instead they had to fall back on their own fears and imaginations. It did not really help, except to make them feel less alone.

He had crossed the wide grassland as the light began to wane, pink fingers clawing across the sky, the wind fallen as he sweated in the heat, coat matted with grime. Just one more hill to climb. Always, just one more hill to climb. Afterwards he always blamed that fatigue, and the closeness of his goal, for what happened next. It was as good an excuse as any.

Cresting the low hill, he looked down into the riverbank, seeing the crystal waters flowing below. That was not all however, and he stopped suddenly as he started down the slope.

There in a small clearing beside the river was a figure, beside a small campfire recently set. He started in a nicker of greeting but the sound died on his lips. The figure was a colt like him, but not with a kilt, or the ritual hoof colouring of his tribe. He had a linen loincloth, and a leather necklace with a wolf's tail hanging over his chest. He was also armed with a bow, not a knife. A bow now aimed at his chest.

Oh by the Great Stallion, he had found a K'laf colt on his own Trials. Ancient enemies, though now they maintained an uneasy peace, occasionally meeting but leaving each other alone separated by the vast wilderness in between. Too late he realised he had been too casual, not noticing the wind had died depriving him of scent.

He fumbled for a moment with his belt, drawing his long knife and taking up a combat stance as he had been taught by the warrior masters, his body shaking all the time. The two colts started at each other for long moments, neither moving, both breathing heavily.

As the immediate surge of adrenaline passed, Tharn began to take in details. His opponent was shaking as hard as he was, that he could now see. The knuckles of his hand gripping the bowstring were white, every ounce of strength going into it, but he was holding, the strain building. Whatever he may think, this one did not appear to want to kill him.

As he looked longer, taking in details, his eyes widened in shock and he gasped, letting the knife drop to the ground. The colt below him was chestnut in colour, with black mane drawn in a braid, black tail and black forearms and fetlocks, with a white patch on his nose and chest. His deep grey eyes stared at Tharn, alarm replaced with curiosity as the stunned colt took up a non-threatening stance.

The colt was beautiful, but more than that, he looked just like his lost love Vannar, down to the piercing eyes. Still in shock, Tharn ran forward even though it could have been his last mistake if the colt had interpreted the move as a threat.

"Vannar!" his cry echoed down the river, as he skidded to a halt before the colt. His need could not deceive him forever, and as he got closer, his eyes took in more details even though his brain refused to process them for a time.

The colouring was deeper, more chestnut, and the white patch on the chest was wrong. The eyes were different too, more guarded than his love, and darker, with a black ring around the iris. The face was similar, but too many differences were apparent on closer inspection. He was beautiful, so so beautiful, but he was not Vannar. The reality made him choke back a cry.

If not Vannar then, who was he?

Tharn knelt slowly, putting his knife to the grass and standing, palms out. The watchful colt followed his every move with his bow, before reluctantly slinging it and returning the arrow to the quiver at his back. Still he stood, mute, and looked over Tharn with appraising eyes. Tharn felt his body heat up as the eyes moved over him, almost seeming to caress. He snorted angrily, trying to dismiss the thoughts that came. It was all Vannar's doing, and he had to get the memory of his love out of his mind now or he would make more mistakes, possibly fatal.

He held a hand to his chest. "Tharn."

The colt gave a small start, then seemed to consider a moment before copying the gesture.

"Nalak."

"Well, at least that is something. Greetings Nalak. Thank you for not shooting me. Do you speak the language of my tribe?"

The other colt merely stood, still staring but not making any gesture or giving any hint of recognition. Tharn snorted in frustration. He had seen K'laf in his tribal lands a few times, and had heard their own tongue, more rolling and guttural to his ears, but sharing only some words with his own. While some members of his tribe could speak it, he was not one and he had never thought to learn.

"Looks like this is going to be a fairly quiet meeting. If you understood more I could tell you some things, but I guess I am going to have to stick to signs."

Nalak seemed to think for a moment, before gesturing to the fire. The light was fading rapidly now, and a chill was stealing across the night. It was cooler down here by the river, Tharn could see. It would make it a pleasant place by day but a little cold at night.

He took the offered seat, still sensing the gaze of the mysterious colt on him. He warmed his hands by the fire, the heat oddly sensual on his body. Looking at Nalak, he gasped as he noticed the colt's loincloth tenting slightly, his flare poking its way out into the air and leaving an impression on the cloth. It left an impression on Tharn as well, one he was struggling to conceal beneath his short kilt.

He stared at the fire a moment, feeling the warmth before a movement to his side caught his attention. Nalak was offering him some food, wild grains by the look. Forgetting his unease he gratefully accepted, the sweet taste flooding his muzzle as he enjoyed his first substantial food in 3 days. He had found no good forage apart from the wild grasses in his journey.

"Thank you my silent friend. I am sorry if I startled you, I should have been more careful. I thought you were someone I knew, a friend I lost when he was taken by the Great Stallion on his Trials. Vannar, my love. Yes, love, I loved him, another colt. Just as well you cannot understand me. You would probably regret not shooting."

As the fire burned, he turned to watch the other colt, who had leaned back against a fallen tree, sitting casually with his legs akimbo. The disquieting grey eyes still regarded him keenly, and sensing a challenge Tharn returned the gaze in kind.

The colt was beautiful, he could see it. Muscles rippled effortlessly under his fur as he moved, a kind of predatory sexual grace about him that made Tharn's face burn. His mind wandered to thoughts of covering the colt with his body, entwined in passion. He had never experienced the loving touch of another colt, but he could imagine, and his imagination was working overtime now. His cock began to slide from his sheath, poking against the folds of his kilt, the rough fabric rasping on his sensitive flare.

Seeing his growing excitement, Nalak grinned, and he could do little but return the grin.

"Yes, you have got me Nalak. If only I could speak K'laf I could tell you how much you turn me on, how much I want to do things with you. "

The colt regarded him for a moment, eyes troubled, before suddenly moving forward, on hands and knees with surprising speed, until he was in front of Tharn, their bodies almost touching. Tharn held his breath, as he gazed into those grey eyes.

The kiss when it came was like nothing he had ever experienced, the touch of Nalak's lips on his, hesitant and fleeting, before returning more insistent, harder. Each of the two colts reached out to hold the other, drawing them together as the kiss became urgent, passion released and uncontained. Their lips entwined, short gasping breaths joined from nostrils close by, and long equine tongues delved into new places as they gave themselves to feelings so natural and spontaneous.

It seemed to go on forever, until Tharn had to break the kiss or lose consciousness, forgetting to breathe through his nostrils in the excitement of these new sensations driving him mad. He felt hands on his shoulders, then moving all over his torso as he panted, the feeling like the electricity before a thunderstorm.

Broad hands travelled over his chest, fingers digging into his defined muscles, before playing with his nipples, this new pleasure making him cry out much to the amusement of the K'laf, a short whickering laugh as he returned to those sensitive nubs, drawing moan after moan from the colt. He found himself lying now, on the grass beside the fire, Nalak over him, cradling his body in his arms and drawing him close, their bodies touching everywhere.

He felt their colthoods touching through the fabric, hard and eager, virile and potent. Their groins rubbed together and he moaned, a moan matched by his new friend he noted with amusement, as their kissing reached a fever pitch. Then he felt dextrous fingers on the drawstring of his kilt, scrabbling with the unfamiliar knot before finally untying it and pulling the flimsy garment away, throwing it past the fire. The colt did the same to his own loincloth and suddenly they were fur to fur, skin to skin.

He could feel the incredible feel of another cock against his, balls touching as they ground together. Nalak moved against him as they kissed, rubbing them together, his aching cock becoming more heated with each passing second, each tantalising stroke. Lips left his, as Nalak kissed down his neck, sucking and biting, driving him to the edge, and then he felt a hand grip their cocks, rubbing them together between their writhing bodies.

He felt it inside him, building as it always did from the base of his cock, a sensation familiar and yet so new this time. A heavy throb, his cock twitching, as the base of his colthood filled with seed and his balls drew up, pressing into Nalak's own. A second throb, as he threw back his head and gasped aloud, not caring what night time predators may be attracted by their mating.

Then a series of throbs speeding up until his gasp turned to a loud whinny of delight and he came, spraying a fountain of seed between them, coating their fur and dripping into a warm puddle between them. Nalak embraced him tight, their bodies now merged as the glow of passion filled him and almost made him weep. He had dreamed of this, and yet the dreams had not done it justice.

He looked into the eyes above him, the light from the fire reflecting off little golden flecks in the iris. He wanted to dive into those eyes and never come out. He reached up to draw Nalak down to him, kissing hungrily, biting into those lips with inexperienced fervour as he devoured the colt against him.

He felt the long hardness, still thick and ready, of Nalak's unsatisfied cock, his own cock still semi hard and stiffening again. He knew he could go several times fast when aroused, and he felt the need in him now. He wanted to return the favour, but was still learning this new game.

Pushing the colt off him gently, he looked into the questioning eyes and smiled, trying to put his new lover at ease. Nalak allowed himself to be pushed onto his back, laying next to the fire his cock so beautiful and needy. Tharn was determined to meet that need, though he wasn't quite sure how.

Laying next to the chestnut, his head towards Nalaks hooves, he reached for the magnificent cock before him, loving it the way he liked to love his own, hard grip, long strokes, one palm cupped around the head slowly rotating against it. He burned with pride as he felt the colt beneath him react with pleasure, long cries and jerks as he drove his cock harder into Tharn's grip, seeking release.

It was Tharn's turn to cry out soon though, as he felt a sensation nothing had ever prepared him for. A pair of warm, soft yet strong colt lips, nibbling on his flared cockhead. He arched his back in need, driving his shaft inside that warm hole, the more experienced colt beside him accommodating his length with ease as Nalak made love to his colthood, long licks to the sheath and back to the tip. Experienced hands felt out his balls, cupping them and squeezing as his cock disappeared into Nalak's muzzle, pleasure building all too soon.

Desperate to bring his lover along, Tharn bent forward to the throbbing colt cock before him, opening his lips to take the head inside while he continued jacking the thick shaft harder than before. The feel on his lips was intoxicating , hot, leathery, hard yet silken, the tang of precum an amazing drug. He wanted more, as his lips clenched, sliding up and down just an inch, beginning to get used to the feel of another colt's member in his muzzle.

The end when it came surprised him, not realising the meaning of the pulsing on the cockhead in his muzzle until too late. His throat filled with hot seed, and he tried to swallow, but his inexperience told and he lost much onto Nalak's belly as he gasped, the ecstatic cries of his lover still ringing in his ears. His gasps passed quickly, replaced by moans and nickers as he felt his own orgasm build, trying to pull away from Nalak to spare him the same result but instead finding the colt clamping hard down on him. His second orgasm for the night broke from him, the eager colt drinking in his seed, thick ropes gratefully swallowed as Nalak took his pleasure from his lovers own.

Tharn felt more tired than ever in his life, his body seemingly spent and lifeless as he felt Nalak cradle him, both colts lying next to the fire letting its warmth fill them, joining the warmth of their mating. As he nestled into Nalak's embrace, he felt strong arms around him, completing a sense of belonging he had never felt in his life, even amongst his own tribe. The realisation made him cry in spite of his best efforts at control, releasing long bottled emotions. The beautiful chestnut colt simply held him, running fingers through his mane, until he fell asleep, dreams full of happiness written in a smile on his muzzle.

Nalak watched him sleep, his own thoughts hidden at first, a soft smile playing across his lips. His eyes were elsewhere though, their gold flecked depths sombre in the darkness. As the Great Mare rose high in the sky, her silver light illuminating the clearing, it reflected off the golden flecks in his grey eyes. It also reflected off a single tear, running unchecked down Nalak's cheek.

*****

Tharn woke just as the Great Stallion was rising into the sky, enjoying the feeling of warmth and the afterglow of pleasure for a moment before he became suddenly awake, every sense alert. His ears flicked in tension, tail swishing as he sought to orient himself.

He was in a clearing by the river, a fire burnt out next to him. He was naked, his kilt placed over him like a blanket, a small pouch filled with wild grain next to him alongside his knife and refilled water skin.

Memory returned, a single word on his muzzle. Nalak. Hands touched his body, feeling dried cum caked in his fur, from his chest to his belly and all round his sheath. He could taste it on his muzzle still, thick and tangy, sweet and hot.

It had not been a dream.

Suddenly very awake, he rose and walked about the clearing, searching. Not a trace of Nalak remained. His increasingly desperate searches became frantic, lifting trees, trotting into the river, screaming his name. There was no response. He had gone.

He sat down in the water and cried, not caring any more. It might as well have been a dream, it would hurt less. Why had he gone? Had he not been any good?

As he sat and let the current wash over him, he looked up to the opposite riverbank and saw it. Hoof marks in the river bank. He knew where his lover had gone, if not why.

Returning to the little camp, he dressed and prepared, making sure he had everything stowed for fast movement. Whatever had made the other colt leave, he was going to track him down and make him take him back. He swore by the Great Stallion, as He rose into the sky, signalling another hot day in the valley.

He waded ashore, and shook his mane, water flying as he got the water out of his ears. He could see signs of Nalak's progress, the K'laf was not field crafty. Unlike him, he had learned tracking at his sire's knee, hoping to please him some way as the colt found precious few ways to please him. He may have a head start, but Tharn was patient. He had waited all his life for someone like him, he was not going to let him go that easily.

His hooves rang in the valley as he ran, wind making his mane stream behind as he panted with exertion, his determination driving him on even as the sun rose higher. The wind rose too, soft breeze filling his mane and playing in his nostrils. He sought out the scent of his new lover, so familiar now to him, its essence covering him even after his dip in the river.

After midday he caught it, the first scent of Nalak, a fleeting moment in his muzzle. He drove on, faster now, before shuddering to a halt amongst the grass as he crested a hill.

He could smell it again, stronger now. He was getting close. There was something else though, something disturbing.

The scent of wolf, several of them. And they were close too.