Inspired by a beautiful piece of fanart by Tane-P over on Tumblr

post/161401363117/no-food-or-water-three-says-yes-sir

The more he pulls the more the ropes bite into his arms, but he can't just not fight. Keith braces his hooves and hauls back against the post. Just like every other time there isn't even a wiggle. Whoever installed it knew what they were doing. Planted it nice and deep, where it can resist even the strongest centaur. Keith stops to catch his breath and plan a new angle of attack. Think, focus, pulling isn't working, but there has to be some other way to get free.

"Ah, looks like the new stallion's worn himself out already," Keith nearly yanks himself off balance trying to turn against the rope to glare at the ranch hands watching him from the fence. They've tied the lead so close to the post he barely has room to maneuver. Barely is still enough to get his back hooves in any direction he might be approached from, though. If they decide to stop gossiping and get near him, he'll show them exactly how 'tired' he is.

"Don't trust that one. Sánchez said it took them miles to chase him down, and even then he knocked Johnson silly before the sedatives took effect." Keith doesn't remember this Johnson they're talking about. He doesn't remember much of anything to do with how he came to wake up tied to this post. He was skulking around another ranch late at night, looking for signs of Shiro, because no matter what the others said, he could find him again if he just didn't give up. Then he thinks he might have been spotted. Everything gets kind of blurry, he's pretty sure he was running, but he's not certain. Then he woke up to the blazing sun, dirt in his face, and this damn rope. Keith gives another hard pull out of pure frustration. He doesn't even care if all he's doing is rubbing his arms raw now.

"So when are we going to start trying to break him in?" The one speaking is skinny, smaller than his fellow, but Keith's not sure he'll recognize him later. Human faces are as easy to tell apart as a centaurs, but they like to cover their hides with cloths that they change daily. Makes them hard to distinguish from any kind of distance.

"Not today, give him a day to calm down, 'till then, no food or water. Boss's orders." The bigger one says, before stepping down off the fence and starting to walk away. They've got another thing coming if they think Keith will be any easier to handle tomorrow.

"Yes, sir," The skinny one nods.

.

They don't give him water the next day. One of the interchangeable ranch hands tries to get close to him, and he kicks him so hard with his hind hooves the man doesn't get back up. The triumphant smile Keith gives while the ranch hand's friends drag him back out of the fenced area, angers the one supervising them so badly he orders Keith be left out there for another day.

Neither pulling or attacking the rope with his teeth get him any more free than when he first woke up here.

.

By the dawn of the third day, he's starting to regret his earlier decision. He feels light headed and dizzy, the whites of the far off buildings and clouds seem to practically glow in the sunlight, and he's fairly certain if he tries to stop leaning against the post and get to his hooves again he'll probably fall right back down.

"I think our new stallion is ready to cooperate," He doesn't recognize the man he sends a half-hearted glare to, but from the way the other three he brought with him are acting, he might be the one who was giving orders yesterday, "Stand up. We're going for a walk. You behave. You get a drink when we're done." His pride may never recover, but Keith struggles to his hooves. Waits unsteadily for one of the hands to undo his lead from the post. He can't run right now. Two days, plus the evening before without water is his limit. He's dehydrated and needs a drink or any escape attempt is going to end with him passing out as soon as he tries to run.

There's a yank to the rope, and Keith follows.