Withen in the pile of firm, frozen wood that had once been so mite-infested and water-logged with dreanching rain, a tiny deer nestles himself between two logs.














His coat is a shiny black, complete with a mane of a startling amount of shaggy black hair, completely unkempt. Small sticks and brambles are tangled withen it's furry mass, unable to be reached by his own little ebony hooves.














He shivers, eyes clenched shut in troubled sleep. His muzzle is parted, a small trail of saliva pooling from his mouth to the moss cushioned ground beneath him. Such is the picture of a typical sick, sleeping child.














So many taller people all around him. He looks at his hands, finding them chubbier and tinier than what they were before he had came to this horrible forest. He stares, absolutely fascinated as he twiddles his babyish fingers, curling them inward and outward.














The toes of the little deer's hooves click together, over and over, twiddling up and down.














He is so heavily engrossed with this that he didn't seem to notice the taller people yelling at him until one thrusts down a thin arm to seize the boy's baggy green shirt, dragging his little body upwards to meet his huge face. The boy couldn't see his face though... nor could he see any other features from him and the two shadowy individuals that poked and prodded him, little incoherent mumblings escaping their invisible mouths...














The little deer gasps in his sleep, struggling and rolling back and forth from his sides to rid himself of the imaginary evil. His hooves flail about, kicking at the logs that surround him. His eyes are clenched shut.














The figures laugh, and the boy tries to scream, but no noise comes out. His eyes want to cry, but no tears come. The thing that holds his shirt, encouraged by his struggling, envelops a second masculine hand about his little waist. The boy's cheeks flush with frustration, and he soon feels an oddly caressing touch to his cheeks. Hands with the slender build of a woman stroke his face... for a quick second, he feels oddly comforted...














Though crying was impossible in his mind, he still sobs in his sleep, salty tears cascading down his cheeks... gumming up his black fur and making it all shiny... Still... he breifly stops his moving...














CRACK! As quick as they had come, one of the womanly hands reaches up and smacks him across the cheek, inflaming the skin. The boy tires to screech in pain... but can only open his mouth and exhale silently.














Likewise in the wakeful world, the deer utters a pained shriek of surprise and pain, starting back up his neverending flailing.














Apparently annoyed with the biting and kicking the boy commences as a protest, the figures converse for a bit before they all begin to walk... taking the boy with them... slow lumbering steps toward an unseen goal...














...The boy stops his fidgeting... slowly getting to his hooves... wavering back and forth as he slowly walks to the Ruins.... head limp...














Where are they taking him? ... Somewhere bad, the little boy supposed... he couldn't see anything... just blank whiteness...














The little deer continued to trudge on... past graves and arches until he reached the seemingly bottomless pit in the middle...














The shadowy figures stop... and the boy looks around, but finds nothing... until he forces his neck to look down... He silently gasps in horror... a large, black hole lay before the four of them... and the figure who held him, without any ceremony or apparent reason, dropped him into it...














THUNK! The little deer screams himself awake, a sharp pain enveloping his left hind ankle... He can't see anything... darkness is all around and the only light was far... far above him. He cries out, but his voice is so weak and cracked with illness that no deer can possibly hear him unless they stand on the rim of the hole.

With a small whimper, he forces himself up, pacing around in a little circle before falling back down, his ankle inflammed... not broken, but badly twisted.

He cries at first, but a new... horrible thought soon dawns in on himself....

He can't bother anyone now! Seto is free to have Ishi all his wants now without him constantly pestering him! He's free to be alone!

...







Silently, the little deer sticks his front left hoof in his mouth... much like a child sucking his thumb. As a human, he had been forced out of the habit when he was very young... but now... it seemed to bring him some small amount of comfort.

























Children create their own little worlds when they're frightened.


It's how they survive.









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((I honestly don't know what this is.... ah... I guess you could say that I'm taking out some frustrations on Mokuba, as well as foreshadowing a bit... Sorry xD; ))