Birds sang their choruses as the golden sun rose majestically in the far eastern horizon. The grass and leaves upon the trees shone and sparkled with early morning diamonds. Lifting his head, Quatar blinked his sleepy eyes. Another beautiful morning. Sighing as he heaved himself to his feet, nibbled lean grass shoots as he contemplated his night. What a horrible dream. Filled with nothing but enslavement and death. The troubling times ahead just had to come in my life time, didn't they! Marvelous. Just marvelous. And no doubt that dream was from the Fathers. *Sigh*, what I wouldn't give to be a normal deer... Lifting his head, froze. Quatar stared in horror at what he saw. The blue backed fawn that had been there the night before, was gone. Nothing was left but a skeleton.
"Thus the message is more dire than I dare believe! Then there is not a moment to spare!" filling his lunges with the damp morning air, Quatar loosed his voice.
Come Children of the Forests! The Fathers have given us an urgent message! Come and hear a woeful tale!!!
Pacing around the skeleton, Quatar wept. The flesh and muscles appeared to have just melted away. The grass beneath was burned, and the ground was covered in a sticky substance. Blood. His body trembled as his heart moaned in silent plea. Oh Divine Ones. No. Please no! Show mercy upon your Children Oh Lords of Time and Space. Do not let this evil come to pass.
"We the Divine Ones do not condemn and save as we could."
If this evil may be sated with blood. Then I shall attempt a bargain. My life in place of theirs...
"Blessed by the Heavens, Quatar Uunumrayel. Not a day passes that your love for the forests and their dwellers does not echo into the heavens. But there is no bargain. What is... is what must be..."

Quatar glowered at the blue backed fawn on the grass. This was stupid. Why am I so mad? I have no real reason to be. It's not like the little whelp did anything to me. Damnit! Get a hold of yourself!! Silently admonishing himself, Quatar shook his antlered head in frustration. This was getting him nowhere. Turning his face skyward, sniffed at the flower scented night air. Peaceful. But why? Why such unrest within my soul? Why am I in such turmoil?
The heavens lay dark in the great expanse above as the many ancient souls glittered. What is it? What secrets do you wield that I should be so troubled? I don't understand.
It had been years since he had felt such foreboding. Blessed with the gift of the heavens? Was that a gift? The ability to feel the magic of the Fathers? Was it not better to live out ones life in ignorant bliss? And now the sudden appearance of this blue backed fawn. Were the Fathers trying to warn him? But what great troubles were to come to the Celestial Forest? The most sacred of forests.
Gazing up at the Souls of the Fathers, questioned aloud. "I have been the Forest Guardian of this sacred place for nigh unto an hundred millenia. And I am no longer young. Why? Why does these troubling times come in my era? Do you wish to punish me for something wise Fathers? No. I know, I know. Ye do not control the wrongs of this world. Ye were tasked with one thing and one thing only by the Divine Ones, to watch over the Children of the Forests. I know. All too well. Such a simple command, and yet so hard. And what am I? A go between? A prophet? Hardly. A guardian. Yes. I know what I am. I have been this for so many years. And yet I still find it such a heavy burden. Oh, but I'm prattling at myself. Never mind. Never mind." Sighing heavily, Quatar felt suddenly tired, feeling my age probably, and nestled down into the tall swaying grass.

I sit and listen the nightingales calling, my heart leaping with every dawning.
My body a tingle with every falling, to sing in the dark of every porling.
In the dark of night awake, the dancing souls in the heavens bait,
And I feel alive in memories wake, to live and love another mate.

In the silence that falls a sunder, falling like a roar of thunder,
I listen to the others calling, like a birch tree sudden falling.
Calling me to join the dance, in a line of perfect prance,
In the silence dim, like a minstrels waking dawn,
I sit and listen to the nightingales calling,
Calling for the faithful souls a home.

Well that sucked, but for a first try, it ain't too bad. Not too bad at all. Oh well. I guess you could say that I ain't that good at poetry. And in truth, I stink.