They gathered like flies to a dead carcass, hoarding together in one, massive heap. A heap of friends? Friends. Mot didn't know this word too well. It was a mystery to him. There were a few deer he liked, a stag of blue, with a mask as long as a tree trunk and antlers that crooked like branches. He had met him this morning.. they had frolicked, but Mot had had to leave. Then there was a doe. She often changed her colors, but always remained with the same feathers and realistic face. Another stag.. he would always keep his real face and his horns, golden and curly. Another doe... He knew her name, because she had asked his. Blu.. Blu something, but she was basically Blu. She was silly. Then there was a doe who wore the pelt of a king butterfly, but she deserved it not. Her face was real and she had antennae. Laurette. Mot did not like Laurette- she was mean, she called him ugly, she made fun of him, she taunted him... Then her mate, Raimundo.. he was nice. He was nice to Mot, he played with Mot. The others... their names, he did not know. Why? They had never asked...

Then of course, there were all the lovely fawns. Oh.. fawns.. they did not judge Mot for his hideous, if not freakish appearance... they were all nice, they play, they frolic. Mot had only been attracted to this group from the sounds of fawns. His false head was tightly wedged upon his real head, as not to scare the fawns with his true self. He creeped closer, soon behind the fawns, he bowed. He waited. They did not respond. He tried agian. The same.

Mot ran. The fawns did not like Mot?

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You wanna know Mot's name?

Post a screenshot of him if you happen to run into him in-forest... if I reply saying it's Mot, then wallah, you know his name. C:

I enjoy doing these. I'll be doing these without him in it until someone posts a screenshot asking if it's him. :B