They sat and stared out from the rocks of the playground. It had started out as and continued to be one of those days. The days where you just want to run about raising hell for all of the stupidity that runs rampant. At least that was the smaller figure's opinion.
The larger bull just kept his silence and felt that it was a bit too warm to be active. He rolled over on his side and gave a soft grunt. "Whats back now?"
"That deer." "Which deer?" "Doesn't matter. Any deer. They're all the same now days."
The stag grunted again and sighed. One of those days...
It was the great leveler.
He of all people knew this quite well.
No longer a spring fawn he toiled after the newly born as their mothers trotted elsewhere.
It was the same old story.
Some popular doe got chubby, popped out a fawn, and then four weeks later she was in la la land with daddy again and the pathetic creature was running amok in the forest being a nuisance.
Leveler.
Feh.
Rhys closed his eyes tighter and tried to ignore the whining voice in his ear. It wasn't the words, no, only the tone. Young fawns all seemed to have that high pitched shrill voice. It was most likely some sort of natural mechanism to be better heard in times of distress, but in this instance it was just bothersome.
He didn't see it coming. How could he have?
Lord Alastair was one of his few friends. He was quiet, reserved, and never raised a point to another being. At least, that is what Finata once believed.
It wasn't the first time he saw them there.
Never approaching, never greeting, just there.
As a fawn he drew attention to what he saw.
It was seldom they would make an appearance but the limber young fawn would run for miles to find an adult willing to listen to his tales.
It had been nearly two years since that day. The White Man laid low for some time. It was futile to try and approach the child after that. In retrospect he should have held tighter to the mask and expected such foolishness. The child was still so young and not nearly ready for such a sight.
