"Come on!", the fawn called to his friend. He raced with another fawn, laughing and bounding. The other was slightly out of breath, but followed close behind.
The two ran in the twilight toward the Playground. "Come on! Come on!", the first called again. He wore the whistling mask for a while, and could not wait to become a stag. His pictogram read "Trunks". The other was a fawn with a strange name that Trunks could not pronounce.
The Playground was oddly empty. Normally there would be some deer who had already settled down by now. The other fawn saw this and stopped. There was something wrong.
Trunks slid to a halt a few feet away, looking back. "What's the matter? We're almost there!", he called out. The fawn backed away, "This doesn't seem right...", she said.
"Oh don't be chicken!", Trunks laughed, "What could be wrong with the Playground?" He turned and continued on, leaping onto the great boulder with one jump. He looked around - the place did seem a little creepy. Glancing back, he saw the other fawn running away. He tilted his head, "What's up with her?", he said to himself.
There was a strange smell in the air. The fawn felt his eyes become heavy, his body suddenly became weak. His legs felt like they turned to goo, and he collapsed on the boulder. The fawn couldn't breathe, and making short, painful breaths, he tried to call out for help, but his voice was gone.
He slowly closed his eyes, and would never open them again.
-=|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|=-
