A continuation of New World.

You are home, our daughter... You are Alive......... Phion.....




The fawn blinked her wide, green eyes to chase away the blurriness that comes of waking on a new day, as if traveling through time while asleep caused the eyes to malfunction. The shadows of her hiding place were just as mottled as her fur. The last of the dust and debris from her birth had faded from her now wispy and soft blond coat. Wisps of floss-thin golden hair floated from her belly as she rose lightly to golden, barely-practiced hooves. She shook, the golden dust of the Endless Forest pollen floating loose from her coat to catch the rays of bright daylight just like dust from an ancient tome precedes its cracking open for all the glorious knowledge within.

Pinning her ears to the crown of her head in fear of her world, the fawn cautiously stepped out in to the warming rays. Ethereal beauty surrounded the young doe as was designed by the little one's parents... the Gods that created her. She was their little angelic creation, the world her own and she a part of the Forest. Flowers bloomed as she passed, birds twittering confusedly and trying to land on antlers not yet grown. Little woodland creatures following her like faithful disciples. A light, soft squeak, much like that of a startled fox kit, and she was leaping and bounding for cover. Shelter and safety from the confusing gaggle of beasts that wished to follow her. The safety of the Great Oak beckoned her, the humming of the Third God a comfort.

A small cavern among the roots offered a safe haven for the little fawn. Here, the young blond doe contemplated her past two days of life.

• She had seen Big Ones
• She had been chased by every possible creature of the forest
• She had been coated in pollen and dust
• She had experienced only Fear and Upset.

....Not a good start.


The fawn had yet to meet her mother and father, she somehow knew. The mental list of things to do increased by one item, now. The tree hummed on, singing to the little creature curled at its roots. Like a grandmother, she recounted tales to the fawn of the forest's humble beginnings, the stories of the first deer, as many as the fawn would hear before sleep enveloped the tiny granddaughter.