Creation of Lightbringing & The Priestess and her Bell (you've probably already read them they're old...)

The Creation of Lightbringing

There she was. Sitting on the hill again, in the middle of nowhere it seemed.
The rain, a constant wave of cold with the occasional gust around her. The grass bowed on the hill, and seemed to point to a pale lump about twenty paces away.

There, in the mist was a fawn, sleepng. Alone, and exposed.
Immediatly, with her candles, a lantern unto her hooves; she trotted over to the sleeping dear.
She sat, feeling it's heartbeat and breath against her furry chest.
She knew this was what she would do.
She knew this was going to be her life.
She, was going to bring light to the forest.

Like the candles light casting upon the fawn at her chest.

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The Priestess and her Bell

The wind rattled the bare leaves,
who had hung onto the branch longer than their kin. The wind whipped by the fur in a hurry.
Another year.

Through the mist, she emerges. A select few run to her side. Yet others remain skeptical of this shady doe. She dosen't keep to tradition of cutting her antlers, showing her femininity... She cannot see, she cannot hear, she cannot speak. All the more reason to hate her. Fawns rush to her side, finding comfort to one they recognize. The one they knew never wore a costume, on such an occasion. The ruins were always where they gathered. A spot that remained a mystery in the forest. The forest, which no human ever set foot on, and yet the remains of whom dwelled.

Far up, on a peek of stone and debris, hung a bell. Scathed by time, and weather. Rejection had turned this once shiny copper bell, into a green rusty bowl. The entire side of the bell, was cracked. It was the only thing in the whole forest, she ever loved as much as the nameless and the fawns. As much as the candles atop her head, giving her aura light, and showing her spirit the way-- while her own eyes could not.

Back then, my dear fawn if you listened hard enough-- you could hear the bell ringing faintly in the wind and fog. But only when it was windy and foggy did it toll. Slightly. It gave some comfort, it gave others fear and some didn't hear it at all. But this doe knew what it was, and it was the only thing in the world she could hear. She couldn't hear the speech of the gods, nor the whisper of a frightened fawn, nor the loving words of a stag-- only the tolling of the old copper bell...

A wind storm swept through the forest, tearing the remaning leaves off of the trees, and with the leaves, the bell crashed. From atop the tower, and the peek of the stone chapel, it leapt off and hit the stones below with a deafining "BONG!". The entire forest awoke with a shutter and raced to their hooves. A circle formed around the bell, which seemed smaller than they had all imagined, and in even worse damage than they could've dreamed for the sound it made was so haunting and full. The doe emerged from the mist, also alarmed by the sound, and to find a circle of deer. One guided her, as she walked through the rubble of the ruined church and she stood before the bell.

A stag took up the bell in his antlers, the large beaded rope by which it hung on the top of the chamber, he dropped it around her neck. The day she was accepted, my dear friends was on this night. And to this day that doe wears the bell she found. The only thing in the world she could ever hear.
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