The ground felt soft beneath his hooves, but still, dull throbs of pain wound their way up his legs. His mask was cracked and weatherworn, exposed to the elements for what seemed to have been forever. His antlers were the same - tines had been knocked away, and though they were strong in nature, they seemed fragile as bones, the only fresh life on them being the poppies wound around the stems. His pelt had lost its sheen and was ragged in places, exposing his bones. Even his eyes seemed dull - the sparkle had long gone out of the chocolate spheres.

And still, he kept on living. Because he loved his home. Every trickle of dew, every blade of grass, was beautiful to him. And he was beautiful to them. The trees whispered tales to him of strong creatures long past, who had scored their bark with sharp antlers. The flowers murmured of those who had once trodden the very ground he stood on - deer and other beasts as well. The water, glistening and cool, showed him what it had looked like - the past beauty of the landscape, how dazzling it had been. And he listened to them, took it all in.

He was tired, true. But as long as there were tales to tell, he would follow his calling. Stretching his neck to its full extent, he let out a hoarse bellow, summoning the others to him. He could see them coming - blurry as they were in his old eyes, he bowed gracefully to a group of young fawns and a few adult deer. His body sighed in thanks as he dropped to the grass, his friends following suit. Now was his time to show them what use he had, in a time where young triumphed over old, and the weak were left to die.

The Storyteller wove a tale. A tale of life.

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lawl, quickie. Poor thing, he's been through a lot. :B I've been contemplating giving him a nice funeral soon, but I dunno if I could stand it without 'im. XD