A collection of writings to describe the life of a deer, some of which are told through the deer's voice herself, as musings of someone that everyone believes is Nameless.

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Writing 1: An introduction: Typical Morning.
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Outwardly, she appeared as a simple Nameless. Coal beads squinted at the world from beneath the cliff of her creamy brow. Her mouth, hardly feminine, sat as a thin line beneath her prominent nose. Her disproportionately small ears pivoted around like terrified satellites near the top of her almost-human head in an attempt to notify her if it was safe to move yet.


It was easy to see that she had just woken. Her chestnut and cream fur was mussed where it was long. Forest carpet clung to her in the places that she had come into contact with it. Dirt smudged the side of her creamy face, making her appear all the more uncivilized. Dark mahogany tines scraped the bark of the tree behind her as she rose shakily to her plain, black hooves. A cloud of dust and debris floated away on the wind as she strode beyond the tree that had blocked the wind the night before. The being yawned openly, her purple-pink tongue curling visibly. Nowhere were her teeth to be seen, although in a place like this it wouldn't be surprising if she had none. There was no purpose for eating here, although each food in the forest seemed to have a purpose all its own.


Carefully the doe picked her way down to the water's edge. Her eyes trained on the surface as she waded in. After a few moments the ripples stopped, allowing her to see the state of disarray she was in. The deer turned away in disgust and moved purposefully in a diagonal from the pond's again-rippling surface. Her pictogram glowed and blurred like a shooting star as she trotted off. Nobody knew for sure why a nameless would carry a pictogram. Many wondered if she had stolen it.


Face-first, the deer plunged beneath the torrential tears of the Crying Idol. Very quickly she was soaked with ice cold water. It scrubbed her clean with sheer force alone, eliciting a sigh as she moved free of the direct shower and back onto a sunny bank to shake off the excess wetness. The deer threw herself to the ground in the sunniest spot she could find on the banks of the stream, just out of reach of the mist. There, she basked while her plain fur dried.


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End of Writing 1: An Introduction: Typical Morning.
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