------------
------------
------------
------------
------------
Hooves pound violently against the ground, tossing up the various earths
of the soil, churning them together in the air behind me as I run. No, do you not think run to be
an understatement? I do not run, presumably ; but rather do I sprint, I flee, I dance upon the very
wind that rushes past my ears. My legs extend forwards and back to the fullest extent, muscles
burning as my tendons and joints strain to keep me aloft. The sheer speed and fleeting milliseconds
in which I actually touch the ground are fleeting.
Deer are said to be land animals. I do not think this to be the case.
Rather, do we not fly?
[=#8B7355][=9]But why, why am I propelling myself forward with such haste? Where
am I going?
I know not the answers to either of those, only that I am. I have no reason not to? The pulse of
my heart, pumping blood with a speed that rivals my own matches the beat of my hooves
against the ground. There is not always a reason to run, but there is no reason not to.
Tensing my back leg muscles, I leap repeatedly over stones and logs, slowing down after
the shock of each one, then amping up and sprinting once more. But after this last one,
something in my ankle begins to smite, and I pause in my tracks, settling into a decent lope,
favoring that tender front leg.
Nothing seemed to be too wrong, but to be sure, I set my face towards what I call home
in this forest ; a short distance away, luckily. Upon sighting the single log, I rush to it,
leaning my weight against it as I settle down amongst the ferns and wheat plants on one
end, ignoring the grass and red flowers at the other. Moving a few stones away with my
