I don't have any pictures for you, today. I'd like to spend some time, rather than simply recanting the events of the day, to pen my actual thoughts.

I haven't seen the Phantom for a few days. I did see him on the 1st day of the new era, though. We traveled through the forest in the usual way, and I didn't, at first, suspect that there would be anything unusual about our meeting. I can't remember exactly how it happened, but somehow, we found ourselves in the middle of a rather large group of deer, in the playground. There were probably four or five deer running about -- not a large number to some of the older members of the forest, but large enough for two socially-awkward and loner-type individuals, wouldn't you agree? In any case, I watched him from the corner of my eye, partially amused and partially horrified. How would he react to being in such close quarters with so many other deer?

He leap't onto one of the tallest rocks, watching the other deer with a wary eye. Much to my relief, most of the deer seemed uninterested. There was one deer, of course, who wanted to make a friend out of the phantom. I, of all deer, knew that this was nearly an impossible task. But I didn't stop him, like I did the fawn. Instead, I watched. The phantom seemed jumpy, as if he expected the other stag to suddenly lash out. I shrunk back a little, feeding off of the phantom's insecurity.

That's when I realized how similar I was to the phantom. I compared our hearts, and realized that there really wasn't much difference between us, after all. My fascination for him wasn't out of bewilderment or curiosity. It was, rather, partially out of relief and recognition, and partially out of desperation. You see, I am a shy deer. There is no getting past that. When faced with social interaction, I would usually prefer to turn and run the other direction. In fact, I find myself avoiding other deer, most of the time. I prefer to lay alone, in my little patch of pink flowers. And it's not as if I go there to sulk, or to feel sorry for myself. No, when I am alone... I feel happy. Happier than I fear I could ever feel, when with friends. I feel a different sort of happy, you see. Not elation or joy, but... comfort.

There are times when I feel like such a killjoy. Just today, I was laying alone in my patch of flowers, listening to the sounds of the forest. When I am alone, I don't mind being joined by a friend or two, so long as they allow the peace to continue. If I want to get rambunctious and wild, I will usually go looking for someone to do it with. But when I am alone, I prefer solitude. And today, these two little fawns I didn't know came running up, mooing in my ear and casting spells on me, as I slept. Don't get me wrong, a game of spell-spamming is always fun. But after 10 or so spells ringing in my ear, my eardrums begin to bleed. I considered getting up and leaving, but my stubborn side wouldn't let me budge. I had been here before they had, I shouldn't have to get up and go simply because two little fawns were being rather obnoxious. And of course, my more pleasant side made its appearance, as well. They were just trying to have a little fun; who was I to spoil it? So I laid and endured their noisiness, until they eventually grew bored, and ran off.

The point is, I worry about who I will be, in a year. In five years. In twenty? What if I am the sort of deer who runs around spooking fawns and picking fights? What if I'm the grumpy old deer that nobody wants to be around? Some part of me knows that I will never be that way. But another part of me still worries...

I don't want to be alone.

I think that's why I've become so desperate for the phantom's adoration. Not only is his attention quite easy to attain; he is always there, looking out for me. But I have come to realize that we share similar hearts. He ... understands me, somehow. Though I don't make a habit of hiding from other deer, or scaring off defenseless little fawns; I understand, I feel the way he feels. We react to our antisocial ways differently. He prefers to scare everyone away from him, so that he won't have to face them; while I prefer to grovel and beg for other deer to like me, even when sometimes the only thing I really want, is to be left alone.

I love the friends I've made. Though I haven't made many, I consider them to be my family. I, like many other deer, haven't an actual family to call my own, after all. But I fear that I will drive them all away with my elusive ways. So many deer in the forest are outgoing and playful, and it seems to come so naturally to them. I, on the other hand, have to work so hard to appear playful and friendly. I worry that I will lose what few friends I have, because I can't relate to other deer.

The phantom and I spent quite a lot of time together, the last time I saw him. It was a beautiful day. His silent and watchful company is always welcomed, I hope he knows that. The last time I saw him, he led me to the pink flower patch, once again. Some paranoid part of me wonders if this is his way of telling me that he knows about me, that he has read about me. I doubt that is the case; it's more likely that... well, I don't know. Why would he lead me to that same flower patch, again and again? The patch which I specifically stated was one of my favorite places? The patch, where we have never been together, before -- until I wrote that it was one of my favorite places to visit.

Along the way, we bumped into a little, friendly fawn. I watched the phantom back away nervously, while the fawn tilted his head in confusion. Much to my relief, I didn't feel inclined to shoo the fawn away. I said hello, introduced myself and my peculiar companion, and watched in mild horror and amusement as the fawn tried to approach the phantom, to nuzzle him. The phantom turned and ran, his heart likely pounding in his throat. I followed, nuzzled him, nodded, tried to coax him back to the fawn, to say hello. 'It's okay,' I tried to tell him. 'It's only a little fawn, trying to make friends.' The phantom nodded back to me, as if he understood. But that didn't mean he wanted to go and make amends with the bewildered little fawn. So we moved on, continuing our run through the forest.

What could have happened in his life, to create such a fearful and secretive beast? He wears a pelt and mask and antlers... someone had to give him those things. He had to work together with someone else, to get the magic he wanted. So what has changed, since then?

And why such a dramatic change of emotion? The first time he and I were confronted with a fawn, he seemed almost angry. Of course, that fawn had been a troublemaker, he had been up to no good. This time, the phantom seemed... nervous, fearful. I have realized, now, that he probably wasn't afraid of the fawn. He was, more likely, afraid of hurting the fawn. Perhaps afraid of what I would think of him, if he did.

No, that's not it. You'll have to forgive me; I can be a little selfish, at times. It's hard for me to remember that I'm just a little fawn. Just an insignificant dot on the forest map. The phantom, this creature, is a stag with a whole mind full of memories; and I am just one tiny fragment of that. I'm just a little fawn, desperate for someone to take me in, to love me.

I ran into Seed the other day. I was sleeping, alone, in the rain in the birch forest, where the phantom usually lays. Seed curled up beside me. Though I continued to sleep, I could feel him in my dreams, keeping me warm. He is such a wonderful friend; but he is often so playful, always up for a game. When I'm around him, I feel pressured to display my more playful side; and sometimes, I don't always feel like letting it show. But I always do, because I'm terrified of losing what few friends I have made. Isn't that just pathetic?

I think I've written far too much, now. I suppose that's really all that I have to say, for now.

There are whispers that an Abio will occur tomorrow. If I can wake up in time, I will be there. It's such an exciting event; my very first Abiogenesis!

Lemon