Mpreg Central

Cormac sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Excuse me," he said as he got up and grabbed his cloak before leaving the room.

"But how can you save him if you don't know who or where he is?" The Strange Man called. "Think about this."

Cormac stepped back into the room and closed the door. "What do you want me to do then? Do you want me to save them or do you want me to just sit here and do nothing? You'd think that you'd want me to save him since you brought it up, but now I just think you like to toy with me."

The Strange Man huffed. "What a rude implication. I don't want you to do anything, I bring it up so I know you have the option. Ultimately, I'm forcing you to do nothing. And you know, if you're going to handle this with all the anoyance of being asked to gather firewood, that is very rude to the poor boy."

"I'm not annoyed with the task, rather the one who makes himself welcome in my room." He turned on his heel and strode out the door, closing and locking it behind him. He quickly made his way to the barn, took his horse and began wandering through the city.

Outside the town, at the edge of a river's embankment, a boy, no older than 15 stood. His clothes, tattered and raggy, doing nothing to ward off the cold. He had, curiously enough, ears that were both pointy, like an elf's but also covered in coarse hair, like a horse's, and a tail, also like a horse's. there was nothing that could mark him as any sort of race. His left eye was blackened, and he had no shoes, forced to walk through the snow in the cold. He was hungry. So hungry. But no one would feed him. The soup kitchen had claimed to give food to all, but the second they saw him, they offered second helpings to whoever would run him out.

The river beneath him was cold and ran fast. All he had to do was jump in and let himself be carried to the waterfall.

"You alright?" Cormac called.

The boy turned around quickly, and backed away from Cormac. His only possession, a guitar, he held it as a shield. "Just go away. I'm killing myself. Isn't that what you want? Just leave me alone, I'm doing it already!"

"What? No! I would never tell anybody to kill themselves." Cormac slid off of his horse and slowly walked over. "What's your name? I'm Cormac."

The boy didn't seem convinced, and he kept backing away, closer to the rushing river. "You don't care. No one does!"

"I'm sure that's not true," Cormac said. "What about your parents?"

"My parents don't love me! They're selfish and they don't care! That's why they had me in the first place!"

Cormac wasn't sure what to say, but he couldn't let the kid kill himself.

The boy was crying as his voice cracked. "Why are you pretending to care?! What do you get out of this?! Why can no one just let me live?!"

"So you do want to live," Cormac said. He removed his cloak and wrapped it around the boy. "You must be cold."

The boy broke down and let his tears fall freely. "I don't want to kill myself. But I'm so tired. I'm so cold."

"I can understand that," Cormac said. "I'm sure you're hungry too. Why don't we get back to town and get you something to eat?"

He shook his head. "No one will serve me. Cause... Cause I'm raceless."

"You look like a half-breed to me," Cormac said. "If anything I can cook something. First, let's get you out of this cold."

"No, I'm raceless and anyone can see it! Elves don't have tails or furry ears! Centaurs have horse bodies and four legs, not two! I'm not an elf or a centaur! I'm nothing! I'm... Raceless."