<sub>Eh... seems I meant to post this ages ago, back when Celyn first grew up, but then I kinda... wandered off. ^^;

Just a drabbly little nothing, don't mind me.</sub>

Celyn had been perched on the bridge for close to an hour, staring down at the stream below, a quizzical look on his face. Usually when he peered into the water, he’d see a fawn with poppies on its head staring back up at him. Today, however, a buck peered up at him, a similar expression on his face. Celyn backed away from the water and pouted—he’d grown fond of the dopey little creature who mimicked his movements. Fawns were much more fun than adults, from his experience, so it was troubling to find that his companion had been replaced, especially since his friend had gotten sick of him.

He peeked back over the edge of the stone structure and let out a bleat, only to be met with a roar of a stag. Startled, he stumbled forward, tumbling into the shallow stream and losing an awful lot of poppies, more than he remembered gathering. Soaked and bruised, but not beaten, he climbed out of the water and shook himself off, then trotted upstream to gather more of his flowers.

As he bowed his head, he realized something was amiss. The blood-red blossoms dangled in front of his eyes without touching his forehead, and more tickled the back of his neck and between his shoulders. Slowly, carefully, he reached up a forefoot to rub at his nubs, only to find full-blown antlers in their stead. He peered back over his shoulder and gaped at his coat. Gone were his snowy little spots, replaced by the two-toned stripes of the kabuki pelt.

Standing once more, he turned around a few times, trying to get a better look at himself, only to bump into the crying statue. Perhaps someone had cast some spells on him while he’d been sleeping? But poppies couldn’t hang from spell-born antlers. How peculiar.

As he pondered, a fawn edged up to him, greeting him with a bleat and a bow. He turned to reciprocate, then paused when he noticed how tiny the creature was.

“What’s the matter, sir?” squeaked the fawn, cocking its head.

Celyn blinked and quirked an eyebrow. “Sir…? You talkin’ to me?”

The fawn nodded, confusing Celyn further. He’d heard other fawns refer to the stags as ‘sir’, but never to other faw—

“Heya… what do I look like to you?” Celyn ventured.

The fawn pursed its lips and squinted for a moment. “A buck with poppies on his antlers,” it replied after a pause.

Celyn eyed the youngster, who cowered and fled before he could ask another question. He stared after it, the realization finally sinking in.

“… Aw, nuts.”