It happened every single year, and today was no different. Only this time, there was an intensity not quite present in years past.

The group had holed themselves in the living room, not a word spoken between any of them. In the farthest end of the living room, a small dual-coloured fox was sunning herself on the sill of the bay windows; the orange peppered fur that glowed in the sunlight gave the impression of her being on fire, though she hardly looked disturbed by the heat her dark body was absorbing. Beside her on the floor was a considerably larger creature; adorned in garland trappings that coiled around his tines, yellow and white flowers peppering the moss that made up his frame, he too was sunning – for a very different reason.

Sprawled on the light blue carpeting in the middle of the room were three other deer. One was a small Muntjac doe, though her male build could have fooled a stranger; she was resting on the back of a larger doe, her magpie markings shimmering in the light that peeked its way through the windows. Curled up against the side of her stomach, ears flickering occasionally, was yet another doe – this one was even smaller than either of her two floor mates, her tiny brown body hiding her face.

The magpie doe turned to look at the final occupant of the room; her coat was pure white, contrasting the more neutral fabric of the couch she was occupying. Black tipped ears swiveled forward as glassy gold eyes came to rest on the blues that started back at her; she watched as the magpie’s eyes traced the fishnet that decorated her front legs.

“Do you like them?” The white doe asked, her voice low, slightly scratchy. The magpie’s eyes returned to hers, locking.

“They’re certainly different, that much I will say.” The magpie deadpanned.

The silence that followed was thick; while to any other individual, it would have appeared to be a normal day of lazing about in the living room, they all knew better. The only reason they all gathered there was to avoid accidently incurring the wrath of the one who was occupying the entire upstairs – at least in terms of how far her voice was traveling.

“He has every right to say that to her!”

The thick, female voice boomed through the house, and the group could have sworn the house trembled in response. The Muntjac sighed deeply, her dainty legs tracing the magpie’s side.

“Good grief. She sounds like a stricken wife.” Was all the Muntjac said, resting her head along the spine of her larger counterpart. A small, sultry laugh was heard, and all turned their heads to the vixen as she stretched out her front legs.

“She mind as well be his stricken wife. You do recall her dream journal?”

The Muntjac giggled in reply.

“How could I forget that? Of course, all of those dreams were from when she was…what, twelve?”

“Even so, the Lady has a way of keeping individuals from straying too far from her heart – no matter how ‘fake’ they are.”

The creature that had also been sunning himself spoke, his deep, ancient tones aiding to calm the tense atmosphere. His deep emeralds looked at each one of them, they in turn watching him.

“I still say she needs some alcohol right about now.” The Muntjac huffed, only to receive a chuckle from the magpie as a response.

“Her games are her alcohol. Different outlet, same effect. I daresay that if she was a drinker, she’d be quite the angry drunk.”

The small deer that had been pressed to her stomach stirred, her head peeking out.

“I’d rather see her stumbling around, slurred speech and all, as opposed to stewing on the bed, spiteful insults and all.”

“Oh come on! This is BS!”

The girl’s voice echoed again, and the small doe immediately curled back up, the magpie running her chin along the deer’s neck in an attempt to soothe her.

“There’s really only one way to know,” said the white doe, her back legs stretching out – her entire body took up the length of the couch. “Find some way to get her to drink.”

“Fat chance.” The Muntjac shot back, the white doe’s ears pricking forward in annoyance. “She won’t touch the stuff, no matter what we do to her. Big day or not, she’s not gonna drink.”

“It doesn’t even feel like the ‘Big day,’” The vixen said, her honey golds resting on the Muntjac’s bi-colored gaze. “It just feels like another ordinary day.”

A low vibration could be felt on the floor; everyone’s heads jerked up in response, only for their eyes to rest on the large skulled deer in the doorway of the living room. The figure’s head tilted sideways to allow her large black antlers to fit through, her trembling frame noticeable underneath her long, silky white fur. A firefly, her sole companion, buzzed just in front of her face, guiding her as she moved. The bell wrapped around her front leg jingled joyously as she moved – it was quite out of place, given the situation. She kept her head tucked close to her neck, attempting to hide the still obvious wound that stained the majority of it. Nobody said anything about it – it was clear to them that the girl’s anger triggered their companion’s hypersensitivity.

“Ah, there you are.” The moss covered creature said, a vine stretching out, tapping the floor beside him. “Come, sit by me, Mi’Lady.”

“Th-thank you…” She replied, her voice distorted, distant. Carefully, she rested her body beside him, the firefly resting on her forehead. “W-why is she being like this…? I mean…she…gets attached when she plays, but…not this much…”

“Oh god.” The Muntjac blurted out, though she hardly stopped to think on it. “You don’t remember what today is?”

The white creature, suddenly feeling as if she had been put on the spot, seemed to shrink into her own body. The firefly’s wings rattled in annoyance at the Muntjac’s bluntness.

“No….I…don’t…”

Without a word, the fox leapt from the windowsill, almost sauntering her way out of the room into the kitchen nearby. A few moments later, she returned with a calendar gripped taut in her jaws. She dropped it to the floor, pointing at a date that had been loosely circled. The firefly that had been resting on the creature’s head left his spot to hover over the calendar.

April 27th, 2011.

“Remember now, darling?” The vixen asked. The creature’s head jerked up, the firefly remaining in place.

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs could be heard. Everyone glanced up to see her standing in the doorway – a black dress adorned with red ribbon was her attire, as it loosely cascaded her body down to the top of her knees. She always loved to wear the dress when no one else was around; for her, it was just one of the rare times she felt she was beautiful. Her class ring, the one constant in anything she wore, rested in the gap in the center of her collarbone. Staring at the group for a short while, she finally waved absentmindedly, unable to form words. Shaking her head, she turned to head into the kitchen – the fridge door could be heard opening.

When they heard her pitter patter her way back up the stairs, the large skulled deer chanced a moment to speak.

“Of course…now…I remember.” The deer said, resting her head on the floor; she looked as if she was sulking almost.

“No, don’t go back to her! She left you, she left you!”

The voice echoed again, and everyone seemed to sigh collectively.

“Cheers to twenty one years, Lacie.”