Lighting turned the sky into a broken eggshell, light peeking through before closing off again. Heat rolled in waves over the skin of the earth. No wind rustled the grass or trees, though high above the summer heat angrily snapped at the fast-moving clouded sky. It was as if the world held still in front of the lightning storm's snapping jaws.

Below the lightning storm lay the expanse of the Endless Forest, sweltering. Many crowded the pond, muddying the normally crystalline waters with sweat and mulm. The water churned with playing fawns and eddied around elderly bodies. Does congregated beneath the shade-providing oaks, chattering like squirrels. Many of the stags had moved deeper into the wood, seeking shade wherever it could be found. A sensible doe or two did the same, many disliking the rabble of those who chose the pond.

Deep in the heart of the First Forest, a pine tree on a small hill shaded an area of damp ground. Upon it sprawled a black and white stag. His humanoid brow beaded with sweat as he panted. A port-wine-stained tongue lolled from his furred lips, before snapping back into his mouth as his head finally lay to rest on the cool earth. Pine needles and dirt would stain his belly, but the stag did not care as he hugged the forgiving ground. Gently, he rolled to his side and then to his back, leaving a quarter of his pelt without dirt or needles. White tummy exposed, the stag situated himself to look up and watch the lightning show. It flickered and crackled before his eyes, which mirrored each visible strike.

A formidable sigh wracked his body.

Summer was dreary.