Just kind of a mini explanation as to why Alabaster is acting how he is. Could it be better? Oh yes. This is unedited. I do like the ending though. I'll keep that, maybe edit the rest. If you come across him in forest, feel free to sit with him. He's sad, lonely, (probably sick by this point. He's been in the rain all day) and bitter towards everything. He probably won't have the energy to interact, but he will accept you sitting with him. Just a thought if you see his picto.



The rain poured down in sheets, soaking the young stag’s pelt. He stood in the midst of it, no longer caring just how wet he got. What did it matter anymore anyway? It wasn’t like his life was getting any better. Nothing was happening how it should.
The rain brought bitter memories, more so from the chilling, deathly cold it brought with it. He had almost died because his mother had a change of heart to leave him. What was worse was that she had been there. He knew she had been there. He had felt her warmth, her fur next to his. She was his universe, his world.
And then she was gone.
Simply gone.
How could she do that to her helpless newborn? How could she just leave him to die? The question had wandered through his mind for as long as he could remember. It was a constant question, like the ache in his heart or the pelt of ice he was wearing now. Not even his herd wanted him around.
The stag let out a ragged, pained breath. Auni hated him, or feared him, he wasn’t sure which. Jester was just…weird. Terrifying was a better way to put it, though her –was it a her?-interest was on Phoenix, so Alabaster had little time to speak with either of them. Then there was Alarica, the friend of Kerwin. The doe who was all right toward him until he started to grow in his antlers. The young hart took a few shaky steps, his joints stiff from standing. It’s not like it matters anyway, he thought bitterly. Only Kerwin and Zash seemed to care what he was doing, or where he was going. They weren’t much help either. Kerwin was okay until his niceness wore off, and Zash…say the wrong thing and the old goat will go silent for the rest of the night.
The mud stuck between his toes as he started forward, wishing desperately that he could just leave the forest for good. Everything brought a painful memory he didn’t want to remember. Blueberries abounded, and more than once he found himself staring out over his birthing place, looking for the precise spot she had been with him, where he had slept those first few days, weakened and alone with nothing but the comfort of his own heart beating faintly in his chest. Now, he wished it had stopped.
What type of mistake must you have been? Huh? To get your mother to just abandon you?
Another step, a thousand more raindrops.
Were you not the son she wanted?
Another breath, a hundred needles prickled his lungs.
Were you flawed, a disgrace?
Another tree, another endless trail.
Or did she simply not love you?
Another tear to mix with the rain.