A forest, deep and cool, would beckon anyone with a wish to escape the heat. The Endless Forest would beckon those who wished to escape the world. A gentle glow seemed to radiate from every leaf, the sun trying hard to peek through a canopy so tall it is hard to see... if you ever do, that is. Beneath that canopy of Pine and Oak is where our story takes place. Our story, though, is about none other than a stag of this Endless Forest. More precisely, a stag that goes by the name

which is pronounced as "Moss."

The trees were just endless streams of brown stripes against his eyes as he moved. A brisk trot had his legs swinging like alternating pendulums. Moss moved through the forest effortlessly and carried with him the rhythm of this place: A tap-tap of hooves and heart. That tapping turned into a low rumble in his ears, mingling with the noise of the blood rushing through them as trees rushed past. The stag hardly paid mind to the world around him as he exercised still-waking muscles in the morning air. The cool air enrobed him, even daring to weave through unkempt fur and kiss his bi-colored skin. The branches of saplings flicked white tines, creating more noises to add to the symphony of things going on in his world.

So many things, so many noises, yet all of them ground quickly to a halt. Two taps was all it took. Two taps that sounded like hoof on wood. Two taps that echoed through the forest and caught Moss's large ears. It seemed as if the whole world took a break. Everything paused.

Tap, tap. The stag's eyes scanned for the sound. He looked left and right, spinning in an almost complete circle. His ears rotated like satellites on steroids. A grunt, and the stag again heard the tap-tapping. There, on the edge of the wood, stood a doe. Tap tap! She called to Moss with a customary pawing, leaving an echo as she did so. Moss took a heavy step forward, only to watch the doe spin, her tail flagging as she raced off. His body rocked forward, practically vaulting him into a run after her. The doe bobbed and wove through the Birch, Moss hot on her heels. She squealed, he laughed, and they ran.


The Birch glowed gold against the darkening sky, the sunset nearly setting it aflame. It was then that the doe came to an unnaturally-quick halt. Moss couldn't stop. He tried hard, hooves skidding, but instead of running in to her...

the stag ran through her.

It was then that he realized he had been chasing none other than a messenger of The Gods. Her pelt was not the original red of the Crying Idol, but the spotted red of a Daughter of Aureia. Slowly, tail bristled but tucked neatly to his rump, the stag spun to face the laughing doe. Her deep black eyes and wide smile became unnerving to the slightly larger stag. He trembled as if she were a God herself, instead of the messenger that she was.

"Moss, you need not be fearful."


The words seemed to sink into his very blood and bone. His own black orbs met her's daringly, only to receive a gentle look in return. Slowly but surely the stag's tail went limp behind him. His apprehension faded, but still was a ghost in his thoughts. A head-tilt: What do you want?

"You, Moss, need a voice."

A shake of the stag's head: Disinterest. I like being silent.

"You need a voice. Really."

Shuffling of his hooves against the crispy ground: Insecurity. I am uncomfortable with this.



....



The stag grunted. He did not know how to talk, nor did he need to. He would be like a child, yes? He would be deemed ignorant. At least right now others thought of him as just mute. Moss pinned his ears to his head and turned his back to the messenger. She just sighed behind him.

"Moss... please? I was sent here to give you your voice. I don't want to go back not having done my job."

The stag snorted, beginning to walk away. The doe, not wanting to have to force this on him, pleaded again. She would not go until she did her job. She did not want to have to force him to take the gift. After all, it was just that: a gift.


Moss stopped, turned around, and stared directly into the doe's big black eyes. He shook his head at her. No.

The doe moved forward with inhuman speed and moved for his neck. His lack of defense would be his undoing as he tried to evade her. They raced through the smoldering Birch like predator and prey. The red chased the black and white until his legs bled red from cuts. Each drop to hit the earth drove the messenger on, her body seeming to grow more solid from them... faster. A thud, a tumble and a light wound to his neck were all it took. Moss cried out.


And the doe faded...


...leaving Moss with his gift.