[=darkgreen]
Please forgive the disorganization. This was written rather on-the-fly, in whatever order I could put it together in.

I cannot describe my relief, his form arising like a star, into the fog. Or did it descend? In that moment, the world seemed empty and bendable. My friend. My precious friend. I thought you were dead, you know that? The world seemed much emptier, without you. I had so much I wanted to say -- news and stories, bits of philosophies... Other than Sage, you were the only person I could ever really talk ideas with. I missed you.
He looked so small, curled up their, his fur damp with blood and mist, his breath lighter than the touch of fog. Many people rushed to be beside him. I sat with him for a long time before the battle started.

If that was the terms of today's battle, I knew it would be worth it, if anything would be. His face was so haggard...His body, so broken and wearied. Oh, my friend... I am, I know, not the finest friend or most steadfast companion. I'm weak and indecisive, uncharismatic to my core, a pale figure in your shadow at the best of me... However. I hoped sincerely I would manage this service.
...And, afterwards...One day...Surely, if these points can be defended...I will walk beside you, and tell you stories, and remind you what a wonderful place this horrible world of ours is. Looking at him on the ground, curled up and barely moving...I felt like that was what I wanted to do the most, what I could do best for him. This world can still be a beautiful, peaceful place. I promise.
Of course, that would have to wait.

The first wave came suddenly. About half of us, maybe more, stuck by Dag's side, forming a shifting shield around him, turning to our enemy like flowers to the sun. The rest chased, baited, attacked; I lacked the swiftness and martial prowess to do that...And anyway, I didn't care if I defeated them or not; if they lived, I'd be gladder than if they died.

[=darkgreen]
I do not fight often. I sensed the storm brewing; I think a lot of us did. I think that's why we were waiting there, on Dag's hill.

I do not fight often. I think it's the easy way. I don't think it accomplishes anything, really, except maybe stopping someone from fighting you. And only for a little while.
Today, I accepted that a little while was good enough. I learned my lesson -- I'm not a hero, not a warrior. I can never be that...And most days, that's for the best. Most days, I believe the world is better off with one less warrior -- one less person willing to surrender to doing hurtful things because they're an easy way to pass on hurt. But today...
Today, I felt there may be some worth in just stopping the fighting for a while.

When the first one came, it felt less like a war, less like a battle, and more like a stampede. Everyone just bore down on that solitary scout, pouding him and chasing him. For my own part, I stayed back; I think everyone got more hurt from being in a clutter than being for him...I only came forward when it felt like the creature itself was on the offense, when it was running to something, instead of just escaping the crowd.
I...Even if its life may not be the same as ours -- or maybe it was, as brief and insecure as so many...Or maybe it's just moved elsewhere. I don't know, but...
I wasn't happy. Seeing it fall.

...When I saw one fall...No, each time one fell... I found myself thinking "It didn't have to be this way." I suppose that's childish, naive thinking. Maybe it's their nature, that all they wish to do is fight deer like us, kill deer like us. But...If that's the case, then what I really felt, what I really wanted to say was "Nature isn't everything." and "I'm sorry."
Even if those sentiments are meaningless...One day, I would like to be able to say such things to them, or their representitives, or someone.

[=darkgreen]
I need to write more. I need to do more, so that I might write more. I need to get back into things, and catch my hooves beneath me once more.

Today, I started with a little run with a nameless deer; he got distracted, but I enjoyed it. I always secretly hope a nameless deer will one day become named, and see me again, and say, "oh, you are the deer who was nice to me. I remember you." Do nameless remember, when they become named? I don't know.

After that, I joined Verve, Herla, Gehirn, Djinn, and a few others I didn't know in sitting in the birch forest.

...I don't know why Verve suddenly has hands; it seems an odd thing to ask. I mean, I spent quite some time first trying to make sure they were actually hands, since I really did not have a frame of reference. Then...Then I tried to think of a way to ask that wasn't rude, over-presumptuous, or that hadn't been said a million times.
"So..." Is about as far as I got trying to formulate that question. Or statement. I'm not sure what it would have been. Of course, the fact that I was staring intently at the birds flying by, trying to put my thoughts together, that I at least mannered to avoid ungentlestagly staring.

They're odd things, hands. I've never seen them before. I had...sort of a vague sense of it, like the pronunciation of a word you've only read. I'm not sure this is what I pictured; the bend is so extreme, the joints knotted... There's a sort of branchlike beauty to them, though. It's hard to say. The length of the fingers suit her frame, though I worry a bit about the joints... And I can only imagine that the mobility they offer...Must be a boon and a treasure. I can only imagine that they'll let her work in new ways... And, come to that, offer her some new options for the self-adornment she enjoys so. And the possibility of gesture, of expression...Of dance, perhaps? Is that too fanciful?
Well, these are my thoughts, so I suppose how fanciful I am doesn't matter.

Me?