_{((This just explains why Fleder's not around anymore. I debated posting it because my writing is embarrassing at best. Bleh.))}

Chilly hours of the early morning were mute with the sound of sleep. The sun peeked out from behind the horizon, lifting itself into a dim sky but drowning in the clouds. All was quiet with the dreary break of day blowing life into the dense trees, but a stirring broke out from the pond shallows.

“You- are nothing-”

The stag grunted through teeth gritted together. He strained to thrust his head downwards and drive his victim’s head under the surface of the water.
“My whole life-” He growled, “has been a waste. And it’s your fault.”
Their antlers were interlocked with the speaking stag having a commanding control over the struggle. He stood at the very edge of the shelf within the pond, practically hanging the other deer like a puppet below the deeper water’s surface by their hooked antlers. Legs thrashed as the submerged animal attempted to get a foothold in the soft bank, but his hooves only tore through the muddy water. His chest ached for air, and it was granted only when the other stag yanked his head above the surface again. While struggling to catch his breath through heavy coughing, the other stag continued to speak coolly.
“I’m going to let you in on a big old secret,” He huffed through that horrible theater mask, leaning in to intensify his point, “nobody cares about you. Nobody cares hardly stand you-”
“Masque-” The other deer choked in a sorry attempt at reasoning.
“-You think you have friends?” He snapped, “Forget it. You don’t mean a damn thing to anyone.” He shoved his antlers downwards again and the brown stag was plunged back into the murky depths before even recovering from the last immersion.
“I could do this for hours, and nobody would mind.” Masque stated, even though it was doubtful his words were heard.
The kicking and splashing grew weaker the longer he held the other deer under. Masque knew, of course, that his brother could not swim and even feared the water; which only presented an opportunity to take advantage of. And if he drowned the stag, then so be it. Even a silent nameless onlooker from the distance didn’t deter him.

When the churning and thrashing had ceased, and it was nearly quiet, Masque grimaced and with an effort he pulled his brother up onto the shoal and flung him to the side, freeing their locked antlers. He shook his head irritatedly and straightened up, approaching the motionless deer with a distinct air of conquest.
“You wanted to run away from me?” He snarled, nudging Fledermaus with his bladelike antlers, to which he received no response, “Fine, be my guest. You run away from everything anyway, you useless filth.”
Two golden hooves struck down upon the brown deer’s neck in an effort to rouse him, which proved to be effective. Fledermaus stirred slightly before breaking into another fit of coughing up water and desperate raspy breaths, over which Masque loudly continued his demands.
“If I see you again, you’d better be praying. I won’t be as nice next time- matter of fact I’ll probably be doing everyone around here a favor by getting rid of your worthlessness.”

With weary eyes, Fledermaus returned a look of defeated understanding. He suspected this day would come ever since Masque’s unforeseen arrival. Running away the first time was hard enough on him; leaving his home at a young age because of his brother took a heavy blow to his self-assurance. And as if childhood had crawled back to catch up to him, here he was in the same scenario with Masque controlling every aspect of his life and now casting him away. He would have to leave without a word to the ones he liked to think of as friends, but yet again Masque was uprooting the very belief that he had friends.

It was too difficult to think of at the moment.

His throat was tight with the fear of taking in more water, and his mind was pounding with dread. The coughing interfered with the ability to catch his breath, and so he continued to choke on every inhalation. Masque was growing tired of it.

“Stay out of this damned forest. I’m not warning you again.”

He spat, like a poisonous snake, at the deer’s drenched brown fur, and turned his back to depart into the cover of nearby maple trees.

The morning continued to strengthen with an uncaring eye to the stag enveloped in the pond’s shallow muddy shore. When he could finally find the muscle to painfully raise himself up on trembling legs, heart still hammering, he shakily took off in the opposite direction with only a hope that no one would realize he was gone.