[=10]
Shivering
The snow wasn't as thick as it could have been, but it still swallowed a deer's hooves whole and sent warning chills to their ankles. It wasn't really the snow that made the Forest cold; it was the cool air, and the freezing gusts of wind that slashed across unmasked faces like cruel blades of ice, that made it unpleasant to be without some form of shelter.
Rhye had expected it to be warm at least, really; from what he'd heard from other deer, the weather should have been kind to them. But the Gods followed no form of structure when it came to weather and time of day, clearly. Not one to hide away from rain or snow, the brown stag had ventured from his warm place in the Old Oak out into the Forest. He'd gotten to the river and the Crying Idol before realising just how cold he was, and was instantly desperate to warm up. Disliking the thought of running around, Rhye searched his surroundings for someone or something to help him.
After trotting about and nearly falling into the Pond, he'd given up on finding a warm spot in the Forest. The sunbeams weren't warm at all, the willows were damp and cold, and even the Oak, whom he had always considered 'faithful', was chilly. He couldn't find anywhere that was clean and warm and dry and suitable to his standards.
But fortunately, perhaps, he had a brainwave. Was body heat not the most efficient way to stay warm? And Rhye loved to snuggle. He loved snuggling more than he loved most things. His search began.
Conscious deer, it seemed, did not like his lack of personal space. And sleeping deer were cold.
The stag, now lonely, mood dampened, curled up near the river and slept. He slept for a long time.
When he awoke, he was very warm. Gold-hazel eyes opened and he lifted his head, magpie mask falling to the ground as he did so.
