Shroud was never a stag to talk much. Some say he was always, 'shroud'ed in mystery.
No-one ever quite understood that strange, young deer. He would remain quiet until the touch of winter filled the forest.
He would never laugh and dance with other deer. He would never gallop and spring about, flicking his back legs up in the air. He would just ...
sit and,
watch.

Spring:

His pelt is that sleek , blue black with a white under belly. His face is of a deer, remaining always thoughtful. On his head are two bumps for antlers, the beginning of the antlers growing.
If a deer approached him , he would turn his back and walk away. If they followed, he would stop and sit down. Wait, for them to leave.
He loved to spend his time listening to the birds. Watching the young rabbits with their kittens hopping about the burrows.
His favourtie spot was under the willow, by the pond.
There, he would look out into the distance. If a fawn approached him and sat down, or begged him to play, he seemed to ingore them, or, he would turn and just walk away.
Not a word was whispered from his lips, not even a sound as he stepped.

Summer:

His pelt seems darker in colour and shines a little brighter in the hot sun. The two little bumps have grown into the next stage. Two black antlers jut up from his skull, they curve in the middle. Although they look small the healthy gleam and texture indicates they are tough.
Shroud now would start to make more sound. He moved around a lot more.
On the brightest, most colourful of days he would introduce him self to several chosen deer.
Two or three. Never more.
When he had performed his regal bow he would trot with them , sometimes even run. He rarely spoke but if he did he would whisper of the beauty of nature, of the birds and the Twin Gods.
If the chosen deer danced, he would not dance but shuffle from side to side.
When asked to dance or run he would shake his head and sit down. Silent once more.

Autumn:

The black part of his pelt has seemed to grow some strange, faded markings. They can only be made out as spirals , up close.
Around Halloween time , Shroud's black antlers have completely vanished and replaced with two, huge fleshy anters. Red in colour.
He starts to gallop to places, he finds his friends and he talks to them more. He starts to dance for a few minutes and sometimes, he will go to other deer and talk with them.
When asked why he never talks he just shakes his heavy head then changes the conversation to one of masks.

Winter:

Shroud's pelt has become a magnificent design. The black shimmers like silk, or a pool of black water. Several glowing spiralling vines crawl from his underbelly, they are a marked design on his pelt. He has grown a short, bushy mane from the back of his neck which catches on the falling snowflakes. People feel they can approach him more. There is a certain welcoming feeling in his prescence.
He would sit under the large oak tree and tell tales to fawns about magic and creatures. And too grown deer he would talk of battles and secrets of the forest.
He loved to talk about a magnificent doe called Crafter.
Shroud would always tell them that she was hidden in the forest, and you would have to use your mind's eye to see her.
Shroud would run about the forest, calling up into the wind, like all the other deer. He danced. He pranced and he laughed.

Then the seasons would change back to spring again, his magnificent pelt and antlers would vanish. And he would become the silent young stag once more...