The Flower Diaries; Chapter Two
June 6, 2010 - 2:28am — thecapturedplanet
Still raining, so much rain, and oh how he pleads with the gods that it will stop...
It makes it hard to hear, he can't hear, the other deer...they come too close before he sees them, his hooves, they slip in the mud as he flees, sending him tumbling over the ground, ribs bruising, fur messied.
And he can do nothing, nothing but limp along, pray for peace, a place he can lay hidden.
He is wilting.
Large ears remain drooped down, tail tucked between his legs.
He lays in the open.
Because in the rain, everyone is seeking shelter.
They won't find him in the open.
His coat soaks up mud, the rain washes it away, maybe if he stays in the dirt long enough he will grow, probably not.
The rain catches his tears, feeds on them, fat drops falling to the ground.
Shivering.
His muscles hurt from shivering.
A scent he knows.
The one that had been with the brown stag.
He stumbles blindly towards it, falling every so often on wounded unsteady legs.
But he cannot bring himself to come close.
He watches.
Wants to move close.
Wants to run away.
The thunder roars.
He jumps, limping as fast as he can to the huge deer's side, burying his head and body into his fur.
it chases the bad things away.
I can try and keep the thunder away
His voice is raspy, rough.
More beautiful than any rose to the cerulean fawn's ears.
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