This will be a "book" of adventures, talks, advice and discoveries of the true nature of our forest and its inhabitants.
It is written from the point of view of the stag named "Moss," my forest emissary and may include guest writers in the future.
Suggestions on in-forest subjects to write on are more than welcome, though please make the suggestions relevant to the entire forest, not just one group of deer or people.
First this ...a lot of Minis .
Then some changes lol
Conspiration
And today with all my Buddies
Fly is showing his strenght
Thank you guys for this Beautiful Day
I had to leave because my leg started hurting a little too much .
I've been feeling so sad lately about everything in my like; Like for games I just love to play I barly even try anymore. I don't know if it was something that happened to me in my past and I just pushed it back and now it's flooding out or maybe from holding all my feelings in or maybe just being sad. So to express my sadness I'm doing a poem made by me. Here's nothing:
Pain is all I feel,
I am alone, By my-self
No one to comfort me in my need.
I can only show nothing in my eyes.
My eyes have lost their color,
My hair lost it's shine.
My will to fight is no-more.
All I can do is stand still;
and fall again and again.
But it's not like it didn't happen before.
Now it makes me feel nothing at all.
All the scar may dissapear but the pain will stay.
Forever it will. And I will be the target.
I will cry tears, But no one will hear nor see me.
I am in a box of lonelyness.
All I can do is Hope~
Well atleast I feel a little better. Sorry I wrote here but where else can I?
The shuffling of a set of hooves through the grays of long-cooled shadows trickled through the forest. Dead leaves rolling about tinkled like strident wind-chimes. Thick shadows sucked layers of color from everything as the being trod through them, her own vibrant coat also falling victim to the hungry beings. Like water, they took the bright orange and turned it to rust. The rustier the doe's pelt got, the slower and more deliberate her steps became.
Heavily a breath shook from the doe in a purposeful sigh. The world was fading to darkness around her and that same darkness eked into her lungs; she felt a need to expel it. It clung to her eyelashes and there the shadows were washed away by tears not unlike those of the Idol that cries a river. Yet there seemed to be nothing to cry about in this place, except maybe to wash away the shadows from the pair of green eyes they tried to take refuge in. Both shadow and tear were blinked away.
A mouth, pink-lined and black rimmed, opened in a long yawn.
/vent writing. Balindfiya was the subject. I'm sorry I used her for such ill, she really is not a depressed deer by any means.
