Buds of emerald peeped from the tips of twigs, once threadbare and worn from bearing heavy loads of snow. The blood of the trees was flowing again, bringing beautiful life to their branches, creating homes for the dewdrops to rest on. Wet and new, each leaf unfurled into a bright and sunny world. Free from snow, grasses awoke to a world that was so dazzling it made them dazzle as well. Thickets of brambles unveiled new sprigs of floral beauty to hide their angry thorns.

Spring was rising from the darkest time of winter.

Moss could hear the young rabbits peeping below the earth. He could see the nests from which young lives would be making their début as new generations in the sun. They would never be lean with hunger here. The brook would thaw and babble, telling any who would listen of the goings-on beneath its rolling surface. The water was too cold to be entered, and too cold to reflect the sky above.

Chirps and cries of songbirds filled what blue the forest's inhabitants could see. Their ears filled with the joyous noises, only for it to spill out of their mouths as they giggled and played, or flirted with one another beneath willowshade. Sometimes hormones did not remember seasons, and that winter did indeed come after autumn and not the other way around. This was mostly the case with the newly-adorned bucks and the does of similar season. All in all it was heartwarming to see these things among the new generation.

From his standpoint on the edge of their world, the stag couldn't help but smile to himself. His own hormones felt confused, as it was also his first spring as a deer, though he knew why that was. Moss's own mind was that of one seasoned well. White antlers moved through the air as he swiveled to peer toward a big tree, covered in mushrooms.

Indeed, none would go hungry.

A doe twitched in her sleep, a sense of forboding crawling over her. Nightmares didn't haunt her, but, for some reason, she felt the sneaking feeling of dread. Her heart pulsed under a beautiful light-brown coat, delicate ears flicking nervously.
An owl hooted in the darkness of the night, and the doe woke with a start. She felt confused at her own sneaking sense of dread. She gazed lovingly down at her son, thankful for his comforting presence.
But her son was not present. The doe gave out a call of alarm, scrambling onto her dainty hooves. Her eyes grew round with fear.
"Chital? Chital, where are you?!" the frantic doe cried, her herd rousing around her. Her mate, the leader of the herd, stood worriedly nearby, looking at the distraught doe.
"Gome, what's wrong?" he asked, calmly approaching the doe as she frantically searched under the bushes around their sleeping place. The other nursing does eyes were wide as they nestled their waking young ones close to them, nervously flicking their tails, while the stags paced around the sleeping place, pawing the ground and shaking their mighty antlers to warn off unseen invaders.
"Pivald, Chital is missing!" Gome exclaimed, choking up as she raced around, her heart thudding. She ignored the dark-brown stag leader as he tried to calm her by nuzzling her shoulder. Gome could sense that Pivald was also very nervous for their son, his false signs of comfort ment nothing.
"We'll find him, Gome, he couldn't have gotten far. I'll send out a search party at dawn," he cooed, trying to lead his distraught mate back to her hollow in the ground. Gome choked back a sob and collapsed into her sleeping hollow, nervousness shaking her to the core. What danger had befallen her son? Was it to late?
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Chital took short, gasping breaths as he tried to calm himself. His dad would find him.

The tawny colored youth jumped from in between the trees, his light hooves not making a sound other than the quietest crunch of the amber leaves that littered the forest floor. His eyes shone excitedly, like glittering obsidian. His ears flapped in the wind as he sped along, chasing a bright blue butterfly in the silence of night.
The fawn didn't realize he left the safety and protection of the older deer of his herd, and he leaped along happily. He didn't notice the change in his surroundings, or the hardened ground turning to marshland. He didn't realize the scent of other deer had faded entirely into watery, muddy scents arising from the waterside.
If it hadn't been for the butterfly spindling upwards into the spire-like treetops, the young fawn would've fallen into the stream right in front of him, its banks steeply falling into the dark, forbidding waters below. The youth didn't realize how close he had come to falling into the deep waters, for he was to busy observing the blue butterfly as it spiraled into the moon.
"Come back, I only want to play!" the little fawn called, rearing up on his spindly hind legs, thinking his voice would travel farther. But the butterfly spindled away, out of the poor fawn's reach.
Disappointed, the young male let his front hooves drop to the marshy ground, making a splashing sound under his hooves.
It was then. he realized, he had wandered far from home.
The fawn froze in place, looking down at the churning river waters. His long ears were straight up in fear, his eyes stretched wide. His little tail flicked around nervously as he backed away from the water, stumbling into an oak tree and falling on his light-brown rump. He looked around wildly, searching for any signs of his herd. But, alas, the mud was unchurned, other than the nervous and frantic fawn's own from moments before.
"Mom! Dad!" he called, looking around wildly.