The forest buzzed with the sounds of life in a humid summers day.
Swarms of bothersome Midges danced between trees in the small animal made trails.
As did their hunters; skillful in their flight the Dragonflies darted between the trees into the swarms for the kill.
Watching the display nature provides, a small Robin called. Its song mixing with the various other birdcalls of the wild wood.
It stopped when a creature hundreds of times its size silently walked infront.
A large bulky creature; an old deer to be more exact, followed the trail made by himself and his fellow cervidae. Each step was mastered to be almost soundless.
Curious the little robin followed.
It was a Hart, fur dulled by his years, the shine almost gone. His head was held low to avoid the branches that threatened to tangle in his twelve point antlers.
He was grey around the eyes, and most of his face actually. The gnats held no mercy in attacking the more sensitive areas for a meal. But it was an unpleasent sensation the stag was all too accustomed to.
He did not bother to shake them away. Instead he continued his small journey to the thicker parts of the highland wood.
Long ago he had left the clearings for the last time.
Despite what one may think at first glance; this deer wasn't too sickly or as unhealthy as one might suspect. This was just an old deer.
Suddenly he stopped, raising his head, sniffing the air. The light caught his face perfectly; the hazel of his dark dull eyes, the slight shine of his nose, and a faint peculiar lined patten across his muzzle. This stag had the build of a creature with a very grand prime in his years. Well muscled, but not to the point of extreme strength.
It was enough to fight through the breeding seasons and sire many children that will unknowingly carry his legacy.
This stag has seen more than the usual Red Deer would in it's life, far far more...
Wary, he crept into thicker bushes, the chosen thicket where he will be hidden from the world.
The Robin understood, and followed no further. It just started to sing again.
Somewhere else in the forest, the Jays calls echoed between the trees, and the Magpies aggressively taunted it.
The gold finches flicked between the bushes, bringing food to their large Cuckoo chick.
And somewhere not too far away, a young Hart grazed at the corner of the nearest clearing.

The little fawn rose again, staring with wide eyes at the world infront of her.
Towering beside her, a magnificent stag stood. His warm gaze settled upon his sweet company.
He had just explained in detail what Spring in the forest was like.
It was in spring, the dull of Winter was forced back by dazzling colours and life. The landscapes are transformed as flowers paint the world, and the songs of joyful animals among them celebrate their growing families.
"Do you think..." The little fawn started. "Do you think there'll be many daffodils this year?" She asked. Her mother used to tell her much about the gay yellow plant.
"Hm-hm, we shall have to see." Smiling, the great stag looked ahead with the fawn.
A gentle breeze caressed them both, and in that moment, the great stags mind flew with it. Soaring between trees, gliding higher and higher over the forest.
There, he proudly watched the world go by.
He watched his friends, with an endless smile across his lips.
The stag, beloved by many
Loathed by none.

Iaurdagnire your love is forever.
Iaurdagnire you will not die.

By night the forest is a quieter place. It is usually the nocturnal who roamed the forest in these hours; deer who lived this way out of choice or because their instincts continued to control their lives even in the aparrantly safer forest.
Occasionally the peace would be shattered by the shrill calls of some type of owl, or the faint rustling of some small critter in the undergrowth. Sometimes the light footsteps of another deer could be heard as they strolled throughout the poorly lit world. Down beside the pond, just over the gentle sound of shimmering water, Amphibians sung their chorus. Spring was on the way, and they were wasting no time in warming up in preparation for the seasons to come.

Their music was interupted by the sound of moving hooves in shallow water. A large deer was in their company. Although not so obvious at first glance due to the lack of antlers, this deer was a stag, and he was picking at the water-weeds again. It was a favourite grazing site; the water-weeds were rich in iron and very good for the blood. The deer however, just liked the taste of them.
A snap of a stick not far away brought the animal to high alert again. His head was raised and ears erect, just seeking the cause of the sound but to no avail. With that on his mind, he lowered his head and plucked a well selected stalk with many leaves branching off it, and then he ran with almost silent thuds of his hooves back into the depths of the dark midnight forest.

Night was always Virgils favourite time of day. The air was cool and felt refreshing to breath. It made him feel most wild; most at home. The dark hours were truly the best times to be in his prime.
Once passed the borders into the forest of golds and grasses, the stag slowed into a trot, then a walk. The birch forest was a lighter place than the old forest. With each caressing breeze the grasses swayed to reflect the half moon that watched the world from ever so high above. In moments like these one can believe in the most perfect things nature has to offer.
The deer travelled the trails created by himself and all the deer of the forest - his fellow brethren, related or not. It was better than damaging the perfect dance of the vegetation that surrounded him.

Scent played the biggest role in the search for his destination; sometimes the deer would reach out to sniff at disturbed grass to learn who had crossed by previously. Half the time he would recognise the scent of a friend, and when he finds the scent he was searching for, he would search the area.
In the eyes of them both, they were silhouettes. A smaller deer shifted ever so slightly out of unease lest the larger stag be a threat. But as Virgil approached, it was clear he was a friend, not a foe. Their greeting was silent; an exchange of nuzzles before Virgil offered the water-weed he had plucked to the smaller doe.
Well, she wasn't that much smaller if one was to take a closer look; She was laying down, she was also quite unhealthy - something Virgil hopes to help her overcome in the future. Among others...
The stag raised his head to scan the surroundings for any other signs of deer or threats around them. No one, nothing, he settled down to lay beside her.

They met earlier this day; what had started as a quiet walk resulted in what seemed like half the forest residents swarming into the usually peaceful Birch forest. Virgil later questioned to himself if it was just bad luck at play or if there was some sort of scheme against them. Which lead to the conclusion that he was over-reacting. It must have merely been bad luck.
He wished to talk to Kiyoko when it was safe. The hind was frightened by everything, bless her. He knew not what brought her such great fears, but he longed to help her understand that not all are so bad. His visits in the night were previously brief as she was asleep. He came to deliver food at night and then he was gone again.
This night was all for her.

"Hello Kiyoko." Came a whisper. He was usually quiet around her, careful, kind, this is no exception. And in a night like this, there was hardly any reason to call out in alarm.
The deer knew what he wanted to say, but how, he did not know. There was a pause, and a look of uncertaincy from the hind. Virgil did not look away.
At least until distant hoof beats were heard, both looking in the direction of the source. A Nameless ran carelessly by not far away. Kiyoko shifted with slight unease. Virgil reassured her.
"They are not all bad." He whispered thoughtfully, peaking out over the grass again. The Nameless was gone. The stag settled again. As did she after a moment.
"There are some in this forest far more noble, wise, gentle..."
The hind questioned.
"Kiyoko..." He paused again. "I would like to introduce some of them, someday.
But will you let me?"

Silence fell.

You might call me a strange person, and to be quite frank I would only nod in agreement. For not everyone can become their imagination, or their imagination become them.

But you see, it is possible, it is something I have felt all too often as of late, and I find myself fearing for my mentality.


March 19th 2010
I don't really know how to describe what I feel...

I can feel every strain of his muscles with each stride he made.
I can see the white in his eyes hazel eyes.

His hooves were like thunder where they hit so hard against the ground.
I felt how his heartbeat was, and it had more power than any swing his antlers could ever deliver.

He was terrified of nothing again.

Why?

Because he and I are in sync.

And because he is terrified, I am terrified.
Or is it because I am terrified, he is?

OneTwoThree OneTwoThreeFour Seven

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