It was time to leave. All notes were left, goodbyes left unspoken, tears left unshed; just the way Jupiter wanted it. She didn't want to see any pain that was her fault.


The deep black pit gaped just past the doe's mottled hooves. She peered down at the Origin of the forest as it prepared to swallow her just as it had swallowed most of the rubble of the Ruined Church. It swallowed the magic and it swallowed the banished. Not many deer realized that it was a way out, past the endless loop that was The Forest, but Jupiter had been told by The Gods to take that way out. They wanted her gone, to at least realize what she was missing by denouncing them. The doe was more than willing to oblige.

That first step was the most difficult.

The doe continued down in to the pit. Soon, the wall of dirt and roots loomed in front of her, a formidable and terrifying obstacle. The doe tilted her head back, but instead of free air she met hard, cool, wet earth. The doe coughed, shaking her head to rid it of the soil. Jupiter knew now that the only thing she could do was press forward... through the wall.

Should I hold my breath? She did not know. Should I push? Again she did not know. The wind at her back gusted, blowing her pelt the wrong way. It rang in her ears like a spell being cast, crippling her mind and causing the classic response: The doe bolted forward.


The dirt seemed to give way almost immediately, but the roots were a different story. Hungrily, they tore The Forest from her. The roots devoured every bit of magic from the doe, from her pelt to her tines to her species itself... leaving her gasping and changing yet again. The portal seemed to tear her limb from limb, leaving her in total sensory-depriving darkness as it tore away every ailment that was caused by the magic of the forest, as well as every sense the doe had left... then finally, her pictogram.


Is this when I die?
The now-nameless doe's last thought echoed through an empty expanse.






















>***<
_{Please keep reading!}
>***<






















A doe stood beneath a Poplar tree, looking over the landscape from atop a forest-shrouded hill. Her four hooves dared not move, ears pivoted like dead leaves in the wind, eyes glinted like molten chocolate from within the perfect Whitetail skull. Her tail stood erect, white fluff floating like tufted umbrellas from a summer dandelion. Slowly, an elated smile crept over her muzzle, rolling up the corners of her cervid lips. The crisp spring air invigorated her, causing her heart to flutter like a sparrow's wings.


Long brown lashes kissed, the doe's amazing eyes closing only to open again; almost as quick as the expanse of a day in the scope of the millions of years it took to carve the river she followed with her gaze. The cool, pristine water appeared inviting, and the deer strode to meet it at a shallow bank. Her hooves met the pleasantly cool mountain runoff, sand and water seeping between the cloven toes as the liquid lapped thirstily at the bark-colored fur just above them. Bliss overtook the beast as she lowered her velveteen nose to wet it, gulping down the fresh water as if her throat had been choked with dirt moments before. In truth: The doe believed it had once been choked with soil.

But nobody would believe her. Not even her own herd believed her.

"Poplar! Come on! WHAT in the name of the Mother of Us All is your fascination with water?" A spritely call came bouncing from the trees. The doe laughed, peering back at another doe about her age. "Poplar! Come on! We're wanting to get going to the Meadow now! The grouse have given birth and the eggs hatched, I would like to show you the babies! Let's go!" The young mirror of Poplar bounded forward before spinning and taking off; an invitation to follow.

"Rosewood! Wait up! You know you are as fast as a flying Peregrine! I can't match that and you know it!" The doe called before following after her friend, who was speeding toward a herd of fifty strong, falling in step through the trees. The meadow and its sweet grasses called to the Whitetails, and they would answer with hungry bellies.






















>***<
_{Please Keep Reading!.}
>***<
















_{Art by Unplugged}




The meadow waved, beckoning the great Whitetail herd. Spring brought many children of many species to the world, babies everywhere. Poplar smiled warily as the fawns moved around the meadow with their cousins, mothers, and aunts. Some deer babes even tried to tempt the herd's leader, Oaken, in to playing. The doe would sneak a smile or share a tittering giggle with the other yearlings and two-year-olds as the fawns vainly attempted to arouse the stag from his trance-like watch of his does.

The other deer looked on, some tutting and others outright laughing as Poplar approached the great stag, the fawns moving out of her way as if she were a wolf come to snatch them up... until Poplar giggled, nipped Oaken's ear, and then took off. Come play with us! The action was clear, and the field was a roar of laughter. Rosewood joined Poplar in this teasing, until Oaken had had enough. He bellowed in mock-anger and chased the pair with his rack pointed straight for the two young does. They squealed in delight and raced away, before Rosewood turned around and managed to take a nip for the great beast's tail. Poplar nearly fell over in her giggle-fit as the pair of deer began chasing each other in dizzy circles. The fawns, she noted, just stared in wonderment. After all, they had been trying all day to see this.

Poplar grinned, pulling up a mouthful of wildflowers and trotting to the pair that stood panting among the soft grasses. She placed the bouquet atop the stag's great tines with a quick stand on her back hooves, crowning him with flowers. "A gift for the Prince Oaken, the forever-young!" She proclaimed jokingly, smiling in to the great buck's face before bounding a few feet off, in to the center of the meadow. Oaken grinned, shaking free the flowers before following her. A playful dance, much like a foxtrot, quickly followed. The pair twisted and vaulted in the graceful manner of ballet dancers to the music of nature. Soon enough more of the does joined, leaping and bounding, until half of the herd seemed to be bouncing along and playing fawn-games, confusing the poor fawns that were around. Adults should not play! They were there to be played with!

"Well, Oaken, I have taught you a lesson today, huh?" Some time later Poplar grinned as the herd made its way in to the deep forest to bed down. Oaken strode beside her, or rather she did stride beside him.

"You did, Poplar. I have not played in a long time. It was...ah, fun."

"That did not sound sincere, Prince Oaken. Not sincere at all."

"It was. I assure you it was."

The doe gave a wry look and shook her head before continuing on in silence as the herd disbanded to their sleeping spots, usually under their namesake trees. Poplar always slept alone, far off from the herd, under a copse of close-growing trees that shared her name. The day had worn on her, and the doe bedded down as quickly as the sun set, eyes closed and body relaxed in sleep.


To the late stages of dawn the doe awoke, a gift laying beside her. An entire tail's worth of Sage Grouse plumes lay fanned out beside her, an oak leaf and a Rosewood leaf left as cues to whom the long feathers had come from. The doe smiled, nosing the feathers in to a familiar shape, before carefully sticking them together with sap in to one beautiful fan. Tucking this away, the doe rose to wash the sticky-sweet sap from her lips and fur.

Back to the river yet again, its mirror surface gurgling and rippling in greeting as the doe took a look at herself. She was wet but clean, thirst quenched but still hungering for something... companionship. Her reflection just would not do anymore. Not in a long time had Poplar hungered for the companionship of the other deer, not like the past two days. She was learning a lesson that she should have a long long time past: the true need for family and friends.






















>***<
_{Please Keep Reading!.}
>***<

























Seven. Seven was a number that she would grow to despise. The seventh fawn got Poplar's true family taken from her, the seventh day she was here the doe was branded as "just a little bit out there" and... well, seven wolves attacked the herd this day.

They seemed mangey, starving, and were definitely vicious. The seven beasts, with their twenty eight paws and two-hundred and ninety-four teeth, advanced too silently and quickly to notice. They surrounded a group of does and babes that had branched off of the herd to graze peacefully. Rosewood was among the does, gathering fawns for a game she often played with them. That day, there were seven does that would be injured by the greedy wolves... one for one.

And all Poplar would be able to do was watch.

A small babe was the first to notice. "Momma? Why's there a big big fox over there?" The doe almost dismissed it, until she smelled the beast. Alarm-flags went up, tails showing their white undersides as the does gathered their fawns to run. Poplar watched the herd become entrapped by the seven gray wolves, afraid but unable to help. The other does in the herd would not allow her to.

"That's Oaken's duty, Poplar. It's no place for a doe."

Oaken's duty, no place for Poplar.

No place for Poplar.

So she did not stick around.

Poplar struck out alone again, away from the huge herd of deer that were just like her... some semblance of family. It seemed that she was not welcome for who she was out here, but the truth is she needed to learn another lesson.

Two black birds wheeled in the sky, one with red eyes and one with gold. The Twin Gods watched the doe strike out on her own while others fought for their lives behind her. They watched as Poplar refused to look back, refused to go and help.

The lone Whitetail just strode away over the hills of the forest.

You're so flighty, Doe. You're not worth our graces yet.

And she walked another seven days.






















>***<
_{Please Keep Reading!.}
>***<






















Those seven days she wandered alone gave rise to many a significant thought, but many an insignificant babbling as well. The days rolled together until they were all one, reminiscent of a single day in the place she once called home.

Poplar shook her head to clear it, nearly running in to a tree in the process. The doe glared at the plant, snorting at it before continuing on through the ever-winding mess of foliage. Just looking ahead at the repetitive pattern of lines made her dizzy, so the doe kept her eyes to the ground in front of her. Rocks, ferns, and roots tangled in to an uninteresting mess on the ground, occasionally spotted with a succulent acorn or a patch of green shoots. Something soon caught her eye, though, and the doe stopped.

A puddle of gold lay beneath a low tree, and as the doe drew closer to investigate more of the golden, sticky liquid thwicked on to her neck.

"It's coming from the sky? What kind of rain is this?"

The doe peered up, seeing a whirling dervish of trees for a moment before another bead of gold dripped on to her muzzle. She licked to remove it... and was immediately enthralled with the taste. Sweet, floral, earthy, sticky, gentle.... Honey.

For seven more days the doe kept close by to the sticky sweet puddle, lapping up the treat as it landed. Her days blurred in to one long stretch of addiction, and the doe awoke on day eight as a sticky, dirt-covered mess. She swooned and her body tingled with anticipation for the next lap from the puddle... muddled thoughts almost distracted her from looking for danger.

Until two black bears threatened her honey.

She dare not move from her hidden spot as the beasts climbed the tree and took turns swatting the thing - hive - that contained all of the delicious gold. It suddenly tumbled down, a million angry stinger-bearers exploding from the paper and gold ball. They attacked the bears as the bears attacked the hive, ripping the bees' home apart. Poplar nearly cried as she saw the bees lose their home because the bears wanted what was inside.

The doe closed her eyes tightly and willed it all to be over.

Soon, all that was left was rubble. The bees had given up the fight. The bears had devoured all the honey and left. Poplar rose to her shaking hooves, stretched, and walked on to the crime-scene. The scraggly being nosed the remnants of the hive, licking the golden honey but tasting only bitterness. She then looked up, seeing a mass of bees attached to the stem from which their home had hung, re-building.

"I am glad you can start over and create a new life for yourselves." The deer whispered, smiling faintly. "I guess I probably should do that too, huh?"

Poplar then nodded to the bees in a farewell, moving off in to the forest once again. Now, the doe had only to find a river to rinse the honey free from her fur....























>***<
_{Please Keep Reading! The Final Story is just ahead!.}
>***<




























Somehow, the biggest pond Poplar had ever seen spread out before her. The doe felt so small.


"Our Daughter finally recognizes her insignificance?

Those voices... The Gods. Poplar spun around to see two of the biggest deer she had ever seen. Both wore their pictograms hanging on chains: Aureia's from her neck, Michael's from his antlers. The great Stag also held another pictogram on his tines: Her's.

"I understand that the world can be a horrible place, is that what you wanted?"

The Stag and The Doe exchanged glances, smiling. The pair faced her, nodding in unison.

"As well as the many lessons we watched you learn otherwise. Do you like your new body?"

Poplar nodded. "I find it a lot better than the many curses I had been blessed with." She replied, eliciting a laugh from the Gods.

"We thought you might. Do you like your new name?"[i] The question was answered with a nod and smile. The Stag and Doe smiled again. Aureia pulled Poplar's pictogram from Michael's antlers. [i]"Your last challenge, Our Daughter, Poplar...

Catch your Pictogram."

The chain flew high in to the air, only to be caught in the beak of a gull. Poplar raced after the bird she had never seen before, sand flying behind her as if a fog followed.













The whitetail grunted, pulling herself along toward the gull as it wheeled high above her. She found her heart crying out to reach the one thing that would bring her back to the forest. I want to go home! I want to go home! Her thoughts repeated like the woodpecker's drumming against a tree. She cried out, pushing past limits she did not know she had, trying to brush off the fatigue from racing over the uneven sand.

Nikodim! Kody! Umay!

The doe imagined her family pushing her forward, increasing her speed to dangerous levels.

Morgul! Nidhem! Adriian!

The doe cried out in anger, her wild call using the last oxygen from her lungs. A deep chasm separated the beach in to two parts, and Poplar was going to jump it.... Open air was the last thing she felt under her hooves as she leaped after that Gull, scaring it in to dropping her pictogram.

The doe plummeted with her name in to the chasm, head over hoof.....


....Dying again.



















































Poplar. Wake up. You're home.