"Blue - everyday - bruised from another place.
Everyday takes grace,
And the air's still warm
From a bullet in the wrong place."
- Massive Attack, "Bullet Boy"
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Steady and hammering hoofbeats sounded throughout the chilled Forest air and sent faint tremors through the soft earth. Chest tight and aching with the endurance of his galloping, the stag came to a halt beside a set of decaying cedar logs, bringing his daily run to a close. He breathed heavily and casually surveyed the landscape, and to his dismay sighted no one.
Well, this would get boring quickly.
That very thought made him wrinkle his nose and sneer in frustration. It was near impossible for him to enjoy a day without bothering somebody else.
He scuffed the soil with a hoof irritably. The stag’s day had only begun a mere hour or so before, and within that period he had already terrorized another perhaps to the point of unconsciousness. Entertainment such as that would usually only last as long as the opponent would keep up his guard, but when it came to the weak who had no defense in the first place, it was a matter of fun and games until Masque grew tired of it. He even had half the mind to run back to the foot of the boulder where his brother undoubtedly remained mashed up against and apologize, retracting the statement about him being worth nothing and offer instead that he was worth a few moments of amusement. He even considered humorously for a moment that it might have been the best compliment he’s ever gotten.
The stag gave a dramatic sigh. It was depressing to consider, but it was true; the only enjoyment he had came from bullying others. Nothing else rendered the same satisfaction.
It looks so weird on widescreen... like, wow!
