He was back again, but just to drop something off this time. It was nothing that any of the forest denizens would appreciate, but he felt it needed to be returned to the place of inspiration anyway. His hooves were soft on the pine-needles, and he made barely any sound as he trod through the Forest to the spot his imagination had drawn from. Although it was difficult, he skirted around any deer he came across, attempting to put at least twelve feet between they and himself. It would not do to frighten anyone on what was really a gesture of love.

When he reached the two white statues, hanging back so as not to disturb any that were there, he waited until the coast was completely clear. Once there were no beings in the vicinity, he crept out of hiding, and drew out from behind him the large canvas.
The paint had been lovingly applied with a gentle hand - his own - and was in hues of green, brown, and gray. What made the picture special was that he had added the colors of spring, summer, fall, and winter in other medium. Fallen leaves, grass, even twigs and sprinkles of soil and moss. The work was truly unique in that it held no ONE element higher than the other. All the items he had used to create this masterpiece were in complete harmony, a rare thing in the art world.

Regardless of dirtying his trousers or gloves, he set the painting down near the statues, and started to dig. Just a little, mind. He dare not disturb the earth more than he truly needed to. When he had a hole the size of the base of his work, he settled the piece into the hole, and patted down the soil around it.

After he had finished with that, he stood up, and started to walk back toward the exit of the forest, still careful to avoid anyone noticing he was there. The breeze was still blowing, cool and soft, against his face, his hair... His eyes closed with the pleasure of it. Feeling the ground under his hooves brought back memories of frolicking in the moonlight with friends. A particular friend began to crawl into his memories, and he slowed his pace to think.

Where was she now? Tally... Ah, but he remembered her. All of her. From the stumbling, staggering little fawn, to the beautifully pelted and timid doe. For a long time, she had been the only one that knew his name, the only doe that approached him. So where was she now? If he called her, even in this form, would she answer?

She had probably long forgotten him.

Which was for the best. If it turned out he could never come back, how he would hate to break her heart. And the hearts of the others who had called him friend... or father. As he walked, his thoughts traveled, his mind taking him on a journey past faces both cherished and barely known.

Kaoori. He called her Mother so many times, that she might as well be his own. Although he was often ill, she had always faced his foes for him. She had always stood up for him when he was on the run from one deer or another, and she had always had time for him. He wondered what she was doing now.. if she was alright. She had been pregnant last he saw her... How was the fawn?
Like with Tally, there was the urge to lift his head and call to her. But he doubted she would answer. Always afraid of humans... what would she think of him now?

She would run away - just like any sane doe.

Lust also crossed his mind. Also a mother and an aunt... even a friend. Brash in her judgments, but accepting of him, and who he was... She was one doe that knew her mind, and did not hesitate to speak it. He had spent too much time lamenting for a life he could not have, rather than enjoying the one he did. Now, he regretted that he hadn't gotten to know her better. It would have been funny, though - to have two mothers. And if he called to HER? ... Doubtful. Perhaps she had moved on from this place. Perhaps she had found a love among the deer. Who knew.

But he wouldn't call her. He wouldn't scare her.

Silence. He, still, was a mystery to be pondered. How had he fared since the last time the boy had seen him? Hopefully, he was free of those torments that would not let him speak freely of his past. Hopefully, he had found what he was searching for. Freedom was such an ambiguous term. Perhaps that was not what the Riddler truly wanted? Ah well... Would he even know, now? What had become of him? But he could not expect Silence to come when called. No, that was another memory.

Echoes would answer him, for Silence would not.

The Storyteller, Dag. Ah, what he wouldn't give to tell him all that had happened! Sharing stories back and forth with the beautiful large stag had been a dream of his... and still was. Perhaps Dag had moved on to other things. Perhaps he now had children, a mate. Perhaps he had, as all things must, passed on. The boy did not want to think of that. He loved Dag, and all of his friends, far too much to want to think of them that way. Where was the Teller now? Where had he gone? Surely he, of all of them, would respond to a heartfelt call?

No, he wouldn't. It was likely he had forgotten. Would not surprise him.

As he stepped over a branch on the ground, another crossed his mind. Virgil. He must be extra careful not to run into the beautiful stag, lest he terrify him. It had happened once already, before he had left the Forest. It would not happen again. He wondered what had become of him. Had he found a mate, true love, in the middle of this place? Had he fawns? Perhaps... But he could not know what had befallen his friend. And he would not call. Virgil would run at any voice that was not of deer kind.

Virgil would flee from him, just as soon as he saw him.

His thoughts traveled onward, as he reached the outer edges of the forest, passing by a large tree. Seth. Hope. Charity. Crash. His sons. What must THEY think of their father, so far away in the human world? What must they see in him? A coward? A monster? Something to fear? Or something to fear FOR? He didn't know, but he wished he did. So many questions about them. Were they healthy? Did they have mates? Was he a grandfather now?

But those questions would remain unanswered.

As he realized this, a tear trickled down his cheek, and splashed somewhere in the brush at his left hoof. He paused at the threshold between the Forest and the outside world, and bowed his head, offering a prayer up to those gods that might still hear him. Keep his sons safe. Keep his friends safe. Let them live their lives free of worry, guilt, pain, or suffering. Even if that could not be so, it made him feel better to send that blessing their way. The last thing he wanted was for hardship to befall those he loved.

With that last thought, he crossed the threshold out of the forest, turning toward the setting sun. Cell would be wondering where he was. Although he couldn't run with his delicate condition of the moment, he did quicken his steps back toward the house. He bet that Cell had dinner cooking, and he couldn't WAIT to taste whatever it was. With one long look back at the forest, he took off toward home, safety, shelter, and the love of his life.