How Cinch got his pelt changed.

The Red Stag took too many steps from the safety of the Endless Forest. Out of the thornbush he went, and in to a land of wolves and old beasts once again. Moose roamed the higher forests, hearty caribou roamed the lower, but one thing remained constant. Everywhere, there was snow. And Cinch? Well, he was as prominent as a bloodstain on the expanse of white.

If Cinch had not the endurance, he would have become a stain. Ten white wolves moved silently over the frozen land, chasing the bright-pelted stag for days on end. When he would find rest, the wolves always managed to find him. Both predator and prey grew weary from their endless hunt, stopping more frequently to catch their breath and devour some life-sustaining snow. They always pressed on, enduring days without food.

Cinch's pelt was hanging limply from him by the twelfth day. The wolves that chased him were gaunt and could not keep pace any more than the stag could.

On the fifteenth day, Cinch stumbled, landing on his knees in the snow. A loud bao tore through his throat, exiting his hoarse, dry, starving maw. A second roar escaped him just as the wolves began to howl in triumph. They circled around the stag dizzyingly. Cinch had failed to escape the Forest of Endless Hunting.

As did the wolves.

They dropped like flies in to the snow. Each sound of body meeting ice caused the stag to gain a little hope. One, two, three, four, five... he counted the sounds... six, seven, eight, nine... a sigh of relief, then a growl breaking the happiness.

A pair of yellow eyes faced a pair of deep chocolate ones. The red stag rose to his hooves, shakily standing his ground on the hard-packed snow. He and the white wolf pressed nose to nose, just staring at eachother. It was the wolf who spoke first.

Lay back down, deer. It spoke, agitated and exhausted.

I will not fall to you, snow-wolf. Cinch countered.

The ice cracked and squealed as the white wolf sunk to its belly.
Lay back down, deer. Sprawl out as much as you can. You want to live? It practically whispered.

Cinch did as he was told, oddly enough. It was a silly look, though it served its purpose in keeping the ice from breaking beneath them. He was again nose to nose with the king of the hunters.

Okay.... Stag.... I am going to grab you by the antler now, and we are going to get our tails out of here. Then, I will beat you fair and square. We fight, okay? The wolf peered directly in to Cinch's eyes. He smiled, sincerity radiating from the black lips.

All Cinch could do was nod. He wanted to get off this lurching piece of ice.

The white wolf gripped Cinch's antler in his jaw. The pressure gave a little pain since he was getting close to velvet, though not much. He felt himself being dragged as the ice lurched and squealed beneath them. Helping, Cinch used his hooves to dig light divots in the ice with which to push off of. They made great progress, almost to the edge of the free circle, before the ice started to tilt. A plopping sound signified the first of the white wolf's dead pack slipping beneath the floe.

We need to move, now. Quickly. I will rise. Then we will run. Cinch said as the wolf kept on dragging him. He could feel the jaws tighten on his antler in a clear enough "no."

That was when the floe tipped, sending the white wolf and the red deer skittering toward black-blue water. Cinch leapt to his feet, carrying the wolf who was still attached to his antler. He took a running jump, and cleared just before the ice righted itself again.

The pair skidded to a halt at the edge of the frozen lake, clamoring on to the icy bank. The wolf, tongue lolling, began to laugh. Cinch's chuckle joined him, and both predator and prey enjoyed a good laugh. Cinch took a moment to look back at the place where all of the White Wolf's comrades had disappeared under the ice. Sorry bout the pack, wolf. He spoke mournfully, raising his gaunt form to stand.

The wolf stood as well, his starved body shaking as a howl of pure loneliness wracked it. Cinch bowed his head, then let out a long sound to accompany the wolf's lament. He respected the effort that the dead had made in the two weeks he had been hunted. It was worth mourning for their loss.

Deer, you mourn, yet those beasts were trying to kill you, and nearly succeeded? Why?

Cinch looked at the wolf, smiling sadly. They were valiant, and never gave up. I have respect for your pack, so I mourn for them.

The wolf bowed his head in agreement. Then we will not fight. Instead, if you find me something to eat, I will protect you, give you a way to keep yourself from harm.

Cinch did exactly that, though he had to kill. This animal was a very plump rabbit. Wolf was pleased.

They then trekked another day to the edge of a forest, filled with odd trees that stunk of old fruit and rot. Within them, though, was a small sapling. Wolf began to chew the bark, smearing it over Cinch's legs. The beast beckoned for him to lay prostrate again for the wolf to coat his fur in the bark-mush. After the entire tree was smeared on the deer, the pair rested together for a night.


The morning light brought sun and the smell of new fruit to the wood that they slept in. Cinch awoke to find the wolf laying next to him, cleaning itself. He rose, crackling as the flakes of paste fell off his fur like ashes from a fireplace. At the wolf's short command, he shook off the remaining dry paste. His fur was stained a deep brown.

Wolf, this tree is magic. You are magic. I thank you... return with me to my forest home? He offered, happily.

The wolf shook his head. I cannot, Great Prince. I have to stay and complete my endless hunt. It is my life. Though, whenever you decide, I would love for you to visit me here. You can join in the hunt with me... become the Deer Prince of Wolves. For now, my home is here.. the Forest of Endless Hunting. The wolf smudged his face, rubbing it against the great beast's leg. He smiled, white face stained with the brown bark.

Safe travels home, my friend. Oh! And that stain, I hope you like it. It will never leave. Not you, nor me.

Cinch nodded, smiling. I do. Safe and felicitous hunting, my friend. May you never find prey with stamina like mine, I pray let them all be fat. I might come and join you some day. Watch for me.

The wolf was gone, and Cinch was gone.
He leapt again through the thorn bush and in to the forest.

Home waited, with the pack that the deer missed.