* To chapter 2=>

Author's Notes: I've been tempted to write about my deer's pasts for awhile now, but I only just figured some idea of a plot this month.
So, I present to you, the first chapter of

Origins
(Title subject to change.)

~*~
“What’s Dad like?”

The slender doe paused in her nibbling of the tender shoots at her hooves, raising her head again to look towards the small deer at her side. Large gray eyes were staring at her expectantly in a face set in curiosity.

Her fawn.

The son she had yet to name.

They were standing a ways from the rest of the herd, munching on the green grasses by the brook. It bubbled by calmly here, with hardly a ripple to the surface. The perfect setting for the colorful insects zipping about merrily as they hunted their prey.

She noticed her son’s head tilt in shortening impatience.

She had yet to answer his question.

Casting her gaze to the side in thought for a moment, she turned identical gray eyes back to him. “What brought this on all of a sudden?”

The fawn lowered his gaze. “Well…all the other fawns are always talking about how great their dads are…how strong they are, and…I’m the only one who doesn’t know his own father…” His voice turned to a mumble as it trailed off.

The doe’s ears lowered some. “Oh…well…”

“Is he dead?”

“What? Oh, no…” She frantically shook her head. Sometimes her son surprised her by knowing more than she thought he did. More than a fawn should know.

“Then where is he?” He gazed up at her with those large eyes again.

She sighed. “I’m not sure really. He’s…not a member of our herd,” she admitted reluctantly, lowering her head to half-heartedly continue munching.

Her fawn’s ears perked up. “He’s not? How come?”

Another sigh. “He’s…” She searched her mind for the right words. “…different.”

“Different how?”

Another question. Oh boy. It was going to be one of those days.

Glancing back at the moving forms of the herd in the distance, she turned her gray gaze back to his face.

Flat. Not long and narrow like the rest of the herd. She hoped he didn’t notice the strange looks or whispers when he walked by those who didn’t understand. Some of the other fawns even made fun of him for it.

She didn’t want him to know the truth about his looks. Not yet anyway. But she would tell him something, otherwise he would ask for the rest of the day. Maybe longer.

“He’s known as the Crimson Drifter.”

He nodded, eyes widening with wonder, his interest already peaking.

“And his pelt is bright red.”

He scrunched his face in confusion or doubt. “Red? But we’re red deer…”

She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “Yes, I know. But he’s not the normal kind of red. He’s very red, like…” She raised her muzzle skyward in thought. She could spot some birds flying by in the clouds. “Ah. Red like a robin’s breast,” she finished, lowering her gaze again.

If possible, her fawn’s eyes grew bigger. “Is that normal?”

She held back a wince. Normal. Difficult to define. “It is for him I’m sure, for where he’s from.”

“Where’s he from?”

More questions.

“I’m not really sure…” She caught sight of the lowering sun. “But anyway, it’s getting late. We should be getting to bed.”

His ears lowered. “Awwww,” he groaned.

She nudged him. “Come on now.”

Reluctantly, the young fawn followed after his mother to bed down for the night.