So... This is were I will put a short paragraph of all my characters, just because.
*Because I can.*
*Please note that whenever I'm using a character for anything, I will try to keep what they do be what they would do themselves, as if I'm not controlling them.*

Arcturus
A fawn. Very friendly and curious about everything. Can be grumpy at times but is very kind-hearted.
Named after the star Arcturus. Mainly because of his black pelt littered with white dots.

Skye
A fawn. A friendly female who is curious about pretty much everything, but is also quite shy and timid. She is kind, and quite silly when you get to know her. Named Skye because she loves to look up at the clouds, moon and stars.

Alastair
A middle aged stag. Was reborn when he was a fawn, so is golden and glowing. Sort of a heavenly being. Alastair is very kind, and good to all. It is very hard to make him frustrated, or mad. Alastair is also quite curious, and is calm at all times. Has magic, but doesn't know it yet. Named Alastair because it means kind and good to others.

Last night, my friend and I were in the forest. We came across a beautiful white stag with red antlers. He was lying atop a stone pedestal. When we two fawns circled around, he stepped down and gave a bow. We returned this, and began to socialize. We clicked quickly, and the three of us began a journey through the forest, meeting other cliques and brethren. We named our new stag friend Elder. We stayed close to him, as if he was our father. We even met another deer on the way, our age, who we named 'Squiggles' due to the way his pictogram looked. So then there were four of us, enjoying the forest, frolicking, dancing and growing ever closer.

But then Elder led us back to the stony ruins, and lay back down atop his pedestal. He took a bow, and like a charming dream, he disappeared. I did my best to replicate his symbol in this image. If you read this Elder, whoever you are, I hope that someday I can meet you, and that you felt the same way we did. You're on our minds. We love you, Elder.

Doodles.

I was walking around when I noticed someone with the same glyph as me. When I came back into the game, they look just like me. I'm the deer on the right. (But seriously, be more creative)

Hello, friends. It is I, grammarshine! I have made this alternate account so that my young siblings may play on TEF without messing up my character set, so please excuse any seemingly inappropriate behavior of this account in-forest, as it is probably due to the character being controlled by a three-year-old who doesn't actually know what she's doing. Thank you for your understanding.

Now, down to business. My little sister (the aforementioned three-year-old) is currently demanding that I "make the other deer dance" with her. If anyone is willing to humor her, she and I would be grateful. She would probably also be thrilled to be spelled, if anyone wants to do that.

I apologize if this seems at all demanding; I am only the messenger here, passing along my sister's wishes. Thank you all in advance for being kind to this child.

much love and good wishes,
Adrien and Gianna

Today I want to tell you about my best friend: Coca.cola. He is not only my friend! He is my father who cares for me. We meet every day at the rocks where to stay together. I would just like to say: Thank you my friend!

Tears welled in Alastair's eyes as he looked at the limp, lifeless body before him.
Tears began to fall as he looked at the gash on the doe's neck.
The tears wouldn't stop.
"Why!?" Alastair roared to the sky, "why did she have to die!?"
It began to rain, and Alastair felt more miserable then he had in his whole life.
He collapsed on the doe's body, and blotted out the rest of the world.

Alastair sat down, exhausted.
The large hole he had dug would just fit the doe's body. He grabbed it and dragged it towards the hole.
Just before he pushed the doe's body in, Alastair whispered: "Goodbye, mother."

For a few days, Alastair couldn't get over the death of his mother.
He couldn't stop thinking of the giant beast that killed his mother.
He was also afraid. Afraid to be alone, without his mother.
But one day, all that changed.
Alastair was sitting on a smooth rock that overlooked his mother's grave, when, another fawn approached him.
The newcomer was a light brown with a white chest, underbelly, legs, and face. The new fawn also had white splotches all over her back.
"Go away." Alastair grumbled. He wanted to be alone.
"No." The other fawn said firmly. "I can tell you need a friend right now."
Alastair was surprised. Usually such wise words came from the older deer, but that didn't stop him from being stubborn.
"No." He growled. "Go away! I want to be alone!"
The other fawn came closer and looked Alastair right in the eyes. "Sometimes being alone isn't the best thing." She said softly.
"Sometimes it is." Alastair grumbled.
The other fawn sighed. "I know how you feel." She said softly. "My mother died too."
Alastair looked at her with new understanding.
"I'm trying to help," She continued, "because I don't want you to go through the same pain I did. I don't want anyone to ever feel that way."
Alastair nodded. "No one should ever have to feel like this." He said.
The other fawn smiled.

Fourth character's biography.

[Read More]

Peaceful.

The birch paper bark lay strewn over the ground. Messy furrows pierced the snow's once-perfect shell of ice. Gashes marred a couple of the trees, now doomed to die from being stripped of bark. There, beside one tree, stood a heaving form.

How can I remain that way?

Head hung low, tines pointed directly at the most recently gored birch. Marks like those of an axe striped down the tree where those bright white bones had attempted to lodge in it. Wood chips littered the ground at the attacker's hooves.

These antlers are made for war.

All attempts so far had failed miserably. The trees had sacrificed themselves for little. Moss felt sour. The only thing he was given was a splitting headache in the attempt to crack the antlers from his skull.

Antlers are made to injure.

The black and white deer's sides heaved as he tried to catch the breath he had lost. One more time he tried. The once-peaceable beast threw his crown into the trunk. It gave in easily against the bone spears as they met. The beast continued to drive them in until he was sure they were sufficiently embedded in the wood. A grunt of frustration passed his lips, one of many that had echoed through the silence of the snowy lowland birch that afternoon.

I want them gone.

The beast bent his forelegs, thrusting upward. His muscles clenched visibly beneath the shaggy winter coat he wore. His face contorted as the pain shot through his skull. He cried out. The tree creaked in pain as they fought. It tried to hold on to the flesh that the deer was slowly tearing from it. The action hurt them both in a terrible way.

I want no part of this horrible burden.

Moss cried out again. Pain drew tears to his eyes and caused his face to burn red under the white fur. It hurt, oh it hurt! That tree, with a last squeal of wood being pulled from itself, gave way. The stag stumbled back.