Niro's eyes flickered briefly to the Kelpie, then back to Theory. "We need to keep moving," he said, his tone indicating that the discussion was over for now.

Still seething with anger and unsettled by the night's events, Theory shoved past Niro. They worked in tense silence, quickly packing up their belongings, extinguishing the fire with swift, efficient movements. ​​The air between them was fraught with unspoken questions and underlying tension, but the immediate need to move to safer grounds kept Theory focused on the task at hand. 

            They made their way to where the horses had been tethered, the silence between them thick and charged. The scene that greeted them was a gruesome testament to the horrors of the night. One of the horses lay mangled and lifeless, its carcass torn open in a savage display of the Kelpie's hunger. Its companion, a mare, was still tied to a nearby tree, her sides heaving, eyes wide with terror.

Kelpies, Theory knew, were merciless hunters. They ate anything with a pulse, anything that could be frightened – an indiscriminate predation that didn't spare even their distant, less complex equine cousins. To the Kelpie, these horses were nothing more than prey, their lesser complexity making them easy targets in the creature's relentless pursuit for food.

Theory's anger, simmering just beneath the surface, flared anew at the sight. He shot a glare full of venom at Niro, blaming him not just for his negligence but also for all the perils that seemed to follow in his wake. Without a word, Theory stalked forward to attend to the surviving mare. His movements were gentle as he approached her, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture, his voice soft and soothing. He worked to untie her, his touch steady despite the turmoil raging inside him.

As he soothed the mare, his thoughts whirled. The loss of one of their horses meant not only a practical impediment to their journey, but also a painful reminder of the dangers they constantly faced in this unforgiving world. It underscored their vulnerability and the ever-present threat lurking around them, waiting to strike when least expected.

The mare gradually calmed under Theory's careful ministration, her trembling easing as she responded to his comforting presence. Despite the chaos, Theory found a small, grounding solace in the act of caring for the frightened animal. But as he worked, his eyes occasionally flicked back to Niro, his expression hard and unforgiving.

The path forward was now not only more perilous but also more uncertain. With their resources diminished and tensions running high, Theory knew that the dynamics of their journey – and their uneasy alliance – had shifted yet again. But for now, he focused on the immediate task, suppressing the bitter resentment towards Niro as they prepared to continue their treacherous journey with just one horse.

            After his gentle efforts with the mare, Theory’s hands, though steady, trembled slightly with a cocktail of anger and adrenaline. He turned to mount her, eager to put distance between himself and the site of the night's horrors. As he slid a foot into the first stirrup, prepared to hoist himself up, Niro's grip on his arm halted him. The contact was like a spark to dry tinder; Theory’s already simmering temper flared, and he shoved Niro away with a harsh, jerky movement, his eyes flashing with a mix of rage and betrayal. Fueled by his mounting frustrations and lingering anger, secured himself in the saddle not caring that the Breeder almost toppled over with the force.

Niro, undeterred by the rebuff, approached the mare again, the necessity of their situation leaving no room for argument or alternatives. Theory felt Niro climb up behind him, and didn’t shove him off again as an act of necessity rather than choice in their reduced circumstances. The closeness was unsettling, more so because of the confusing rush of feelings it brought to the surface. Niro's body pressed against his back was a constant, unnerving presence. 

Theory's heart raced, and he was acutely aware of every point of contact between them. How he seemed to fit so pefectly between the Breeder’s strong thighs, the comfort he felt against his massive chest, and the gentle tickle of his breath against his neck... 

Why the fuck was he so close? Was that even necessary? Did he intentionally press every part of his body against the Carrier just to get a reaction? 

Theory attributed his heightened awareness and unwanted interest to the sensitivity brought on by his approaching heat. Trying to regain some control over his tumultuous emotions, Theory focused desperately on the unpleasant sensation of dried, caked blood on his skin and clothes, using the grim discomfort to anchor himself back to reality. But even the visceral disgust couldn’t fully distract him from the heat of Niro’s body against his, from the unintentional intimacy of their shared ride.

With only one horse now, their journey would undoubtedly take longer. Each additional hora on the road not only delayed their mission but also left Theory more vulnerable as his heat drew nearer. He felt exposed, endangered, not only by the physical perils of their journey but also by the unsettling proximity to Niro, which threatened to unravel the tightly wound control he maintained over his emotions. The thought of being in such a state, especially in close quarters with Niro, added a layer of anxiety to an already tense situation.

Every minute they spent together, every additional hora their journey was prolonged, felt like a torturous test of Theory’s self-restraint. The longer they were on the road, the more his defenses seemed to erode, leaving him raw and unguarded.

Theory set his jaw, steering the mare with a determination to overcome the obstacles ahead. His mind busied itself with plotting their course and calculating the delays, pushing aside the complicated feelings that Niro's proximity invoked. 

            They rode until the first blush of dawn began to dispel the darkness, their silence an unbroken pact amidst the encroaching light. The cool morn air brushed against their skin, carrying the fresh scents of dew and earth, a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere that clung to them both. Stopping by a murmuring stream, the gentle susurrus of water over pebbles seemed a mockery, a natural melody out of place with the battle churning inside Theory.

Theory dismounted stiffly, every muscle in his body taut with suppressed emotion. He stripped off his blood-stained clothes with sharp, angry movements, his frustration palpable. The water was cool against his skin, a shock that momentarily grounded his whirling thoughts. 

Dipping the fabric into the stream, he scrubbed vigorously trying to erase the stains, his movements fuelled by a tumult of frustrations. His irritation spiked at the thought of having to wait for their clothes to dry, each minute of delay feeling like an hora. The rhythmic sloshing of water against cloth was a minor distraction from the heavier thoughts that weighed on his mind.

His gaze unintentionally drifted to Niro, who was methodically cleaning his own garments. The dawn's soft glow painted Niro's scars in a tender, almost ethereal light, revealing a history written in flesh and pain while highlighting the defined muscles of his back and arms. 

Theory hated the way his body reacted, the way his heart chest throbbed with the unwelcome surge of attraction, mixing with a deeper, more dangerous allure. He loathed how his body betrayed him, responding to Niro of all people with such forbidden interest.  ​​

His eyes then fell on the amulet that had nearly strangled him with its surge of rage. It looked so innocuous, laying there against his chest, yet Theory so distinctly remembered how his fingers had brushed against it, the flood of rage was overwhelming, unnatural. 

Theory pondered the immense, almost inconceivable power he felt from it, wondering about its origins and purpose. As he stared, lost in his thoughts, he realized Niro was watching him. Their eyes locked in a silent exchange, loaded with unspoken questions. The intensity of the moment held Theory captive, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

The world around them seemed to pause — the rustling leaves, the gentle flow of the stream, even the soft whispers of the wind. After what felt like an eternity, Theory forcibly tore his gaze away, breaking the connection. He turned back to the stream, focusing on rinsing out the last of the blood from his clothes, his mind a tumult of confused feelings and unanswered questions. The physical act of cleaning seemed menial compared to the task of understanding the enigma that was Niro and the perplexing, unsettling reactions he evoked.

            Under the languid caress of the sun, Theory kept his lonely vigil. His eyes were alert, darting to every rustle in the undergrowth, every whisper of wind that murmured through the trees. Meanwhile, he tended to the mare, leading her to graze and drink, her presence a quiet comfort against the solitude of his watch.

Silence enveloped them like a dense fog as they waited for their clothes to dry. Even when they resumed their journey, with Theory mounting the mare and Niro sitting close behind him, words remained scarce, unspoken tensions stretching tight between them.

It was Niro who finally shattered the quiet. “How long do you plan on keeping my coin pouch?” he asked, his voice breaking through the stillness.

A snort escaped Theory, though he kept his eyes fixed ahead. 

He knew. 

Of course, he knew. 

Theory had decided to keep the pouch until their task was completed. It was his insurance, his reassurance that he wouldn’t be left alone, vulnerable and unaided. He wasn’t about to let his dream of a tranquil life be ruined by any unpredictable Breeder.

“I won’t abandon you,” Niro said softly, as if plucking the thought straight from Theory’s mind.

“And why should I believe that?” Theory’s voice was edged with skepticism.

Niro’s explanation was pragmatic, almost calculated. “Elves migrate in pairs. If I go alone, it will draw attention and jeopardize everything.”

“How practical,” Theory responded dryly, feeling the tension in his own body.

The mare jostled beneath them, and Niro's grip on Theory’s waist tightened, drawing an involuntary gasp from him. He tensed, heart pounding, wondering if Niro had noticed.

Silence followed, long enough for Theory to hope that Niro hadn’t. But then, the words fell, heavy and undeniable. “Your heat is near.”

Theory stilled.

“You’re mistaken,” he managed to reply, his voice betraying none of the anxiety that warred inside.

“We can smell you, Carrier. I mistake nothing,” Niro said, his voice low and certain.

Theory's mind raced, heart thudding against his ribcage. The awareness of Niro's proximity, and the tiny little slip of information that hung in the pregnant silence.

We?

            Theory's frown deepened, etching lines of confusion and suspicion across his brow. 

"We?" he echoed, his voice laden with probing dubiousness. Niro's response, however, was nothing more than a silence that seemed to swell with secrets. Theory tucked this piece of the puzzle away in his mind, vowing to extract Niro's secrets, one careless utterance at a time.

Niro shifted behind him, a movement that sent a cascade of unwelcome shivers racing up Theory’s spine. An unexpected warmth flared within him, igniting a fire he had never known. His reaction was instinctive, a hiss slipped through clenched teeth. 

"Stop that!" he barked.

But Niro, undeterred and dangerously close, leaned in until his lips brushed against Theory's ear. His whisper was a taunt, a challenge wrapped in velvet. 

“Why? Shouldn’t bother you if you’re not in heat.” 

The words, deliberately provocative, stung with the precision of a carefully aimed arrow.

In a sudden burst of fury, Theory elbowed Niro fiercely, pouring every ounce of his strength into the blow. The impact sent Niro tumbling off the horse, dirtying his freshly washed clothes.

“Walk then,” Theory growled, his voice thick with scorn. 

Niro stood slowly, dusting himself off, then glared up at him, arms folded across his chest in defiance.

“You’d give up the mission? The coin?” Niro taunted, his words slicing through the tense air. “Or perhaps your goal is to get stuck out here with me, while your heat hits. That it? You want me to breed you?”

Theory seethed, his anger reaching a boiling point. He hadn’t known the Breeder had this venomous side to him; it only served to fan the flames of his ire. The male was more infuriating than ever, if that was even possible. His cruelty knew no bounds.

 “Fuck. You. I’d rather die than let a worthless asshole like you touch me.”

As if the mere thought of it inflicted physical agony, Theory closed his eyes, his grip on the reins tightening to the point of pain. Niro, undeterred by the altercation, climbed back onto the mare, scooting close until his entire body pressed up against Theory’s again, like the irritating smug bastard he was.

No spark of lust or desire flared within Theory, only the boiling rage that always simmered in the Breeder’s presence. 

With no preamble, he spurred the mare into a breakneck gallop. The faster they arrived at the next village, the faster he could free himself from the infuriating presence of the damnable Breeder.