Often, you could hear Bluebird sing. His voice rang out, filled with joy and cheer wherever he was. Today, he happened to be not so far from home. Smiling cheerily through his silvery muzzle, the stag sang out his melody. His whole body seemed to sing as he took the time to mark trees around his patch of heaven, leaving scent and the occasional bit of fur behind on the rough bark.

His muscles rippled beneath skin that bore scars beneath the fur, stretching taut as he hopped a little. The spring in his step and the elevation of his crown were almost as inviting for a romp as his voice. Quickly, he bowed, stirring up flowers with his colorful antlers and tossing them high in to the air. It was difficult to tell if he had just lost his spots or was really in his prime.

A chuckle emitted from his muzzle as he finished his song, smiling and falling down on to the patch of violet blooms. They tickled his fur and scented it. Comforted by the feeling, he breathed in the heady scent and moistened air.

Above him, trees swayed against the sky. Butterflies danced a waltz through the air. Everything seemed calm, even the steady rhythm of the great stag's heartbeat and contented smile.

He rose again to his hooves, his soft ears erect and listening. Maybe he was a little hungry. His long legs brought him to the strip between the birch and the first forest. Greens all around him cried out their delectability and dripped with mist.

He snuffed, nibbling the tender shoots and humming.