3/2/11
The young deer waltzed slowly towards the pond, each step careful and thoughtful, mindful of the flowers. Gingerly, he lowered his head to take a drink with his eyes fixed on the group soaking in the waters. It didn't seem very appealing to him, but to each their own...
He lay as close as he dared to the water's edge, enjoying instead the coolness of the damp earth on his skin. The great-antlered deer moved to rest beside him, and he welcomed her warmly.
It was not terribly long before she grew bored with resting, however, and the pair rose to move about. A little hop, a skip, and they had started something. The towering deer reared again and again, and out of curiosity the buck tried it and tilted his head.
Like so? Why so?
This garnered a great response from the one with heavy antlers, and soon she was rushing through a slew of unfamiliar actions. She lowered her head and shook it in a manner that made the young buck smile - didn't that tilt her neck oddly? He tried it, careful of the flickering flames among his tines. The pair were quickly mocking a fight, though Candlelight had no idea what the strange new game truly was. His friend seemed to be enjoying herself, and that was good.
He had a new game to share with others, now - wouldn't it be wonderful?

1/27/11
It had been a long time since the young buck had found himself in familiar company. There had been many quiet days spent here and there, flitting among strangers and flickering from shadow to shadow. Some of the shade-hearted deer had moved and wandered away, and some had welcomed his company - but mostly he was alone.
Now, though, he had stumbled across the great white doe who had been one of his first encounters. Candle rested comfortably in her presence, dislodging himself only to follow the social butterfly from one flower to the next. Occasionally there was a fawn to cast on and smile at from behind his mask.
Only one had stood out, however. A tiny, fearful little thing who jolted at every hoofstep, every unanticipated rustle of grass or brush of breeze. The buck bowed, and the fawn cowered as he inched calmly forward; he sniffed, and let himself be sniffed - and suddenly the fawn was no longer before him, but beneath him. He let the little one rest in his shadow, silent guardian, until the youngling had taken wary interest in Ravus. When they had been properly introduced, they three rested beneath the birches.
Not even I was so timid... Rest close, little one; none will hurt you here.
After making sure the little one had found another little friend to play with, he had taken to watching for a time.
And then Ravus was gone. When he found her, his eyes flew wide with shock.
Rabbits get that big? It is as grand as she! The little white one would fit in its belly!

He sat in reverence and awe with the row of gathering deer, examining the strange creature.
And then the unthinkable happened.
Someone dared to poke it, to touch it, to... to dance atop it!
Suddenly deer were racing and leaping and soaring, bounding over and around each other until, slowly, bit by bit, their tower grew and spiraled on and on and up.
Watching carefully, Candle decided to try this strange new game. His first try fell just shy, and his second landed him just barely atop the giant's back. A grunt, a huff, and the next deer had settled atop him. Two and three more and... uf, they were heavy!
The top next time, he groaned. Let the strong ones have the base!
Someone slipped - the Twins only know who - and the tower had crumbled, collapsed with peals of laughter and choruses of giggles.
And then they built it up again - higher, stronger, better. Candle gladly took a perch atop a feisty red buck, though he only barely made it to the spot.
That one, too, tumbled to the ground when the ones at the bottom had grown too weary, and all sat and rested.
Well, most. That feisty red one...
Candle watched him, intrigued. What a bright young deer. He hardly needed the candles wedged among his tines, vibrant as he was. What energy! So different.
Different indeed; the buck observed behavior he had never seen before. Curious, he had tried this strange new affection-greeting with Ravus... who did not appreciate it much.
Perhaps he had done it wrong. Too close to the hip? The tail?
He would get it right next time.
The red one nodded encouragement and laughed for joy. Perhaps it had not all been wrong.
I have been here so long, it seems... And yet I am still learning.

---

11/7/10 - The Day of Growth
He had found the strange white doe with tremendous antlers, again. But she was not white - nor were her antlers so grand and red as they had always been to him. Such strange creatures. But I suppose I cannot be the only one with a mask. He sat for a while, beneath the pond's willows, and watched the doe and her companions dress each other with flourishes of blinding light. They played other, strange games he could not comprehend - something where one would jump on the other's back. It looked frightfully uncomfortable, to him. So was dancing, though, he mused. It hadn't been so bad the other day, though. Maybe he had just gotten used to it... I have grown a great deal, recently. My tines have shown themselves. But I still feel so small...
Suddenly, noise! So much noise. A dispute? But no... they laugh. He tuned out the boisterous bunch, but did not lose himself in thought again; rather, he watched as slowly, deer by deer, his solitude was replaced by a great company. First the doe, with her tremendous antlers. Then a sleek-antlered deer. Then a white fawn, an irridescent stag with flowers caught between his tines, a bone-furred deer, a many-tined stag, and one more tiny fawn. One began to dance, then another - and another. Is this always the pattern? Small but growing, waxing, waning? Even the rowdy crew had joined in, stacked though they were. The stag on the bottom reared, and the top deer went sprawling; Candle laughed to himself. Then the great-antlered doe joined them, and only Candle and the white fawn remained, watching quietly. Soon she, too, rose, and called to him. He hefted himself up, and she led him to the dance. The white doe tapped her hooves and nodded - dance with us, little ones.
And they did.
It was warm, and bright, with so many so close.
Bright. They make their own light, when they are together. Is that why they are so dim when alone?
...Then... I will find the ones who are lonely, and they won't have to be any more. They will shine, too.
The older deer moved on while he and the little white fawn danced. Then, as all things do, the dancing came to an end, and Candlelight bid his friends - Friends. I like that. - farewell.
He stayed with the antlered doe for a time, however, mirroring her movements. She seemed amused by this, and the little fellow smiled. They walked around the pond - sprinted - rested, jumped in place. What an odd game. But she is smiling, and I am smiling. Maybe this is why they do it.
After a time, the lot scattered and departed, and Candlelight found himself wandering alone by the most ancient tree.
By chance, his hoof scuffed a stone. Glancing down to catch his feet again, he found not a stone but his mask lying lonely beside the Great Oak. It seemed to fit better, now. He surely had grown since he had lost it. Hopefully it would not slip again.
I have found my mask again. The Forest's magic - for surely this place is magical - has brought it back to me. I do not have to hide behind it, though; I am still a little small, but I am so much greater than once I was. My antlers have grown in tall and strong, and my legs are long and swift. They are young, still, perhaps, but no longer wobbly. I am tall enough now to look the darkness in its face. And I will. I still do not understand these deer, all around me, but I have come to find that I, too, am a deer, regardless; I am one of them. I have learned that much, at least.
Some are bold and some are meak, some are strong and some are weak, but all are deer, beneath, and we all carry a little spark above our heads. Some just don't know how brightly it can glow, yet. They have taught me much in the little time I've had. Now, I will teach them to shine like Candlelight.
[Counting from the first time I logged Candlelight in, today was supposed to be his Stag Day. But uh... he's still a fawn. I assume for about 24 more hours. TEF may go by calendar dates rather than exactly 30 days? Oh well.]

---

11/6/10
My mask has gone, he thought sadly. He'd lost it some time ago. It had made him feel a little bit safer, hiding behind that mask. No other deer had ever tried to harm him, but still he felt safer with something to shield him. And yet...
The white, bone-faced doe seemed so impossibly large and foreboding, and yet she had invited the little one to dance with her and the bright orange companion at her side. Not only that, but she had greeted him as though he were a friend long lost. Perhaps she thought I was the other Light? Wary, Candle had picked up his hooves and mirrored the older deer, waiting for the haunting feeling he had come to associate with a dance - but there was none. The forest was bright today, full of sun. The trees creaked eerily, yes, but the fog had gone and this dance had no frightning music to sing. The fawn even dared to copy the twirls and rearings of the doe - albeit awkwardly upon his spindly little legs.
As creepy as the deer in this Forest often appeared, they seemed... kind, although they generally baffled little Candlelight. Running, dancing, rolling on the ground, calling to each other across the Forest's length... Oddities he would have to become accoustomed to. They seemed to be 'the norm' here.
All the more reason to learn, I suppose... Maybe I will follow this white-faced doe for a time. Her dance is not so strange. So he lay beside her, and her companion, and listened to the churlings of the crickets and frogs beside the lapping waters of the pond.

---

Date?
There is another fawn. Another candle in the darkness. He looked at me, so confused. Our names were not the same, but only a single stroke stands between us. What difference does that single stroke make, I wonder? We look alike, in so many ways, but I can feel that we are worlds apart.
How strange this Forest is.

---

10/30/10
Candlelight hunkered down beneath the great, creaking boughs of the largest tree in the Forest; the wind hummed a strange song as it danced through the cavernous opening.
The little fawn had opened his eyes to fog again, and the further he walked the thicker it became until he found himself standing at the Playground. A bone-furred stag was searching for sounds nearby, and Candle moved close to him; his antlers were tall and strong, and covered in candles. Surely this fellow could keep the little one from harm? A wolf's how echoed through the dense air, and Candle had huddled beneath his chosen protector.
The great stag seemed to listen a lot, and Candle made a little game of mimicking him; maybe the fawn could learn something from this adult's behavior. The fawn followed his movements closely, careful not to miss a step; he had even broken his habitual silence to call out an answer to the other voices when the older deer had. I hope he doesn't become annoyed with me. The stag seemed not to notice too much, however - so Candlelight carried on. There was one thing he hadn't mimicked, however; the other had prodded at the giant sleeping deer with haggard flesh and tremendous red antlers, and had even shouted at it - did he want it to wake up? Candle shivered. He is brave. Will I be that brave? To the fawn's relief, the stag had eventually given up his quest to arouse the beast, and Candle had continued to follow him until his elder lay down to sleep. The fawn bowed to the other and turned away with a quiet sigh; he was alone in the fog again, with only his two little candles - and the giant drowsing deer - for company.
Unwilling for things to remain that way, Candle had quickly rectified the problem by seeking out another stag. This one was bare-furred, and dancing. Curious, the fawn had moved his hooves as the older deer did - but when he did, the fawn heard a distant, chilling tune, and he soon stopped and chose to find somewhere to rest, instead. This quest had led him to the Great Oak, where he had curled beside the great candle within and put his head down to rest within its warm glow.

---

10/23/10 - The First Day
So dark, the little fawn shivered. Even with the warm lights above my head. The tiny one jumped as an owl ca-hoo-ca-hooed somewhere nearby. What a strange place. What a dark place. Where is the light? Am I the only light?
There had been others, but they were gone now - sleeping, or in other parts of the Forest. Strange others! Others with fur of bones and melting flesh, with voices that echoed oddly in the mists. Once, when he had unthinkingly cried out after being startled by a wolf's howl, the little one found that his voice, too, ricocheted strangely from the trees - as though he called into a cave rather than a forest. His face was different, though, from most of the others he saw, but surely those skull-faces were masks like his own pale covering with dark eyes that cried red tears? He certainly hoped so.
There had been a doe with black and white fur and tremendous antlers - but he couldn't find her now. He had followed her, observing the way she interacted with the others, and she had done the same to him when he chanced to wander off on his own. Strange.
He longed for the comfort of those others now - the ones who had, for some strange reason, thought it funny to line up behind him as he walked to the pond for a drink. Silly creatures...
I'm nearly grown, though. Surely soon I will have my own antlers, and I can be my own light in the dark. And maybe the others' light, too. He cast his eyes around the dark forest, hiding behind his mask - and a tree. But I have to be my own light first. ...That's what I am, he decided. That's what I'll be.

Candlelight.