From random deers point of view.....

I was just sun batheing in my regular spot the first time I saw him. I guess he didn't see me cause he just trotted up looked around in a three sixty and then began to eat berrys eye consantly alert. A female raced past on her way to the rueins and he tensed crouching low to the ground and after about a minute got up and ate more still alert. I slowly stood up from behind the rock I was laying in not trying to scare him. I finaly got a good look at him. He was tiny young but not a fawn, he had no mucel mass realy and seened to be verey unhappy. "Um hello"? I called out calm and gental. He jumped about five feet into the air and stiared at me, I could see his blue eyes from behind the mask. "Um are you ok"? He stiared for a moment "yes I am fine". His voice squeaked a bi and I cou;d smell fear on him. It was as if my just staning there looking at him was a danger to his life! "I'm not gonna hurt you"..."Thats good". I was sclightly confuse but tryed to calm him down. "Whats your name"? He was about to say something then caught himself shook his hea and said "Whisper". "Ah well im Harmony"! He seemed to calm down just a bit now and straitened. I walked over and joined him eating berrys also. "So how are you"? I asked. "Oh who me I I'm fine ya know the same old same old how are you"? "Oh im fine just relaxing today"! "Oh ok thats why you where hideing". "I wasn't hideing you just didn't see me"! He smiled a bit but tryed to hide it. He actualy had mucle but it wasn't bulky and think like he was tough and ready to fight for a mate. More like he ha mucle from dayly things. "What do you like to do"? "Cards I play cards". "Oh like tradeing cards"? "No real cardes..aces and spades..". "Oh you mean like black jack"!? He tensed and seemed sad for a moment "whats the matter"? "That was my fathers name" he whispered. "Black Jack"? "His name was jack he had black fur and was a master at playing Black Jack so thats what they called him".

[=9]Golden hooves. The color of value, purpose...so dainty and worthy compared to the vast portion of soggy soil on which they trod. Yet again, the little doe (if one could use such terms on a creature of more bird than deer) found herself wandering alone. It was habitual now for her, to revert to something like the nomad she once was. Perhaps she was turning into her mother, who, in the setting suns of her life, looked upon Rowan with such foreign eyes. A lost old creature, bound by chains that which only she imagined.

Rowan had come from a family of nomads; aimless wanderers. Though she was not an old doe, she was not the young hapless hind she once was. She found her mind wandering more frequently, her lips moving in speech only to herself, and her legs not settling in the dust for hours on end. It was if she had lost something. It was known information that her little child had been stillborn; she frequently heard of it again and again in stinging whispers and pitiful stares. She was not looking for it directly, perhaps not even at all. Even the feathered little creature herself knew not why she wandered. Whatever she had lost, she seemed apt to wander with no purpose in hopes of recovering it.

What she found the eve after the rainstorm was not what she was looking for. Strangely, she had been holding a pleasant conversation with herself when she came across it. Oh, how it plagued her nightmares as a youngling. Even after her death, his strench would be bound to her skin. And she knew it. She was used property; damaged. As if on instinct, her virtually nonexistant left ear flicked at his arrival. This loss of ear was one of his many gifts to her.

The beastly stag hauled the nightshade behind him. He devoured the sunrays around the doe, and comanded the sun take her leave. Some things even the great mother of Earth must not witness.

An Introduction

He sat, watching the sun rise.
He was alone. All alone, to savour the pastel shades of red, orange, pink as they illuminated the sky.

A thin smile was present on his lips.

He inhaled the crisp morning air and started humming a tune. It was slow and soft. The notes seemed to linger in the air for a split-second before being caught by the wind and whisked away.

That was what made his voice so special. Not that he had ever sung for anyone except himself. Well, maybe once or twice during his chilhood, but that was superficial singing- within everyone's reach. His voice was something else- it was beyond the standards of our natural world, had a touch that made it completely different from anything else.

Not that he thought so himself- not at all. His singing was something he kept to himself, to be used in a certain context. Maybe he knew his voice was different from others ?
But he would never had had a clue how beautiful and unique it was.

Whenever he met someone or saw something that affected him, a melody formed in his head, despite himself. All that was left to do was hum it discreetly, and secretly marvel at it. His tunes also helped him understand how he felt about things, when he was not so sure himself.

He paused, and again started humming his sunrise song.