Having had a long, eventless afternoon, Atticus lay beside the monstrous tree roots with a *thud* and sighed. It was twilight out, with just a bit of light left for those that venture out in the daytime. Long, draping vines full of leaves obscured Atticus from the sun, showing only a side of his mask. He watched the last rays fade from the earth, and his thick dark brown coat turned a tinted-black in the absence of light. Now, under the shroud of leaves, the only things visible were the whites of his mask and antlers.
Truly an unnerving sight to behold, however this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Atticus likes to play games, and is sometimes thought of as a trickster. But one could not be blamed if frightened by his eyeless gaze.
He nudged the grass in front of him a bit. The ground here was frozen, but under the cover of the tree he would be safe from the wind. This was a cold, unforgiving place. There weren’t that many other deer, food was scarce, and there was certainly a shortage of warm bodies to sleep next to.
It began to snow lightly, and Atticus like so many times before considered leaving this place for good.
But he was certain that they would come back....there were so many others. So many questions there.
"Why?"
All Atticus had known as a fawn was the other deer. He knew the forest, and the other creatures.
He knew the way of life, that it began, and that it ended. But now, he was faced with a gap in his life. Where had the others gone? He had the unmistakable feeling that something was wrong, but he could not figure it out. He was sure that it had to do with the others' disappearance.
Atticus stretched out, relaxing his muscles before resting. His ribs shown bare and there was a labor to his breathing; every freezing breath he drew in evacuated the warm from his body.
He was sure that if they did not come back within two more moons, he would have to leave. It could not wait any longer.