Ehe, meant to have this up a couple of days ago. Think of it as a prequel to this.

Not to worry, it's all just feverish rambling.

... I think.

Good lord, I think I caught the dramabug. *D*



The young buck pursed his lips, quite the feat with a mouthful of poppy stems. Before him was the limp form of his friend, a thin, night pelted stag, his body slumped in a patch of hyacinths. The buck crept along the edge of the flowerbed, quietly observing the stag before tip-toeing to his side. He smiled and lowered his head, the petals of the flowers in his mouth brushing against the fallen male's flushed cheek, only to be met with a flurry of thrashing antlers and peacock feathers. Celyn drew back, poppies scattering over his friend's head and neck.

“Y-you…” the stag ground out, an ugly scowl etched onto his usually placid face.

“Heya! Was in the area again and thought I'd drop b—!” Celyn's chatter was cut off by an enraged roar from his friend.

“—Er, troubles?” The buck tilted his head and took a step towards the stag. “C'mon, pal, you can tell me! Won't tell a soul, I won't!”

The other snorted, digging his forefeet into the soft soil, his body trembling with the strain from his attempt to stand. A minute ticked by, then two. Finally, he sunk back into the hyacinths, clearly exhausted from his efforts.

“Tell me,” the stag murmured as he drew his forelegs back beneath his body. “Do you know how it feels to be abandoned by those you thought were your friends?”

Celyn paused and quirked an eyebrow.

“Well seein' as you're my only friend, I can't rightly say I have, nope nope.” He paused again, then added, “Kind of a weird sorta question though, huh? Been visiting with you as much as I can, and I've seen lots of others watching over you while you were all feverish and stuff.”

The stag didn't reply, his eyes misting over as he stared at the wilting hyacinths. He dropped his head to the ground, forelock obscuring the top of his face.

“They all left. I'm… I'm alone.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Who left? Didn'tcha hear me? I saw at least half a dozen deer crowded around you the other day. All looked worried sick.”

The buck's statement was met with silence. He pouted, sticking out his lower lip.

“C'mon, pal, what's eatin' ya? We're friends, right? You can tell me!”

The stag curled up on his side, snuggling his nose under a forefoot, his eyelids drooping.

“… I have no friends.”

Celyn stared at the stag, ears back, eyes wide.

“Wh-what're you sayin'? I'm your frie—!”

It was too late; the other had lapsed into unconsciousness once again.

“S'all right, I guess. A-all things gotta end sometime. Seasons change, flowers wilt…” Despite his brave façade, it was clear the younger male was having a difficult time maintaining his composure. He backed away from his former friend, then turned to dash back toward the birch forest, sparing but a single glance over his shoulder as he fled.

“Seeya, Toxic. It was fun while it lasted.”