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Vincent's herd had only recently come into this forest, driven out of their previous one by deforestation, over-hunting by humans and host of other problems. The smaller village nearby promised less harassment and the forest was rich enough to support the herd.
He was a bit of an oddball among his people. A young buck...doe? Smelled like both, had both parts. Confused the stags. Fight or mate? He tried both options himself but neither would have him. Antlers too stubby to protect a doe and their potential offspring, likely infertile and therefore a waste of time to mate by a strong stag. And so, he was often left alone.
It was an unusually hot spring day so the herd made their way down to the river to drink and cool off. Vincent, being the klutz he was, tripped and fell in the mud. Those nearby laughed. He slunk off into the water to wash up, moving out of sight of the herd so as to avoid further humiliation. Washing the mud off his skin, he sat down on the grassy bank, hoofed legs drawn up so that he could rest his chin on his fuzzy knees.
Maybe he ought to run off and find another herd. Maybe of true deer. At least then none would laugh at him.
Scratching his ear, he sighed and got up, heading back to the herd. The forest was still too unfamiliar to stray too far for too long.
Too late though, they'd ditched him. Not a single one to be found...But they'd left in a panicked hurry according to the hoof prints in the mud and torn up grass. Which only meant one thing.
A predator was in the area.
His ears perked up, sniffing the air and on high alert now. Hunters? A bear? They'd not heard any wolves thus far...There was a scent now...but he couldn't place it. Was he just dumb or was the predator masking its scent? Maybe this forest had another kind, one not found in their old forest.
He could run. Always an option.
Alone...so alone.
Fear gripped Vincent, unable to move.
He was a bit of an oddball among his people. A young buck...doe? Smelled like both, had both parts. Confused the stags. Fight or mate? He tried both options himself but neither would have him. Antlers too stubby to protect a doe and their potential offspring, likely infertile and therefore a waste of time to mate by a strong stag. And so, he was often left alone.
It was an unusually hot spring day so the herd made their way down to the river to drink and cool off. Vincent, being the klutz he was, tripped and fell in the mud. Those nearby laughed. He slunk off into the water to wash up, moving out of sight of the herd so as to avoid further humiliation. Washing the mud off his skin, he sat down on the grassy bank, hoofed legs drawn up so that he could rest his chin on his fuzzy knees.
Maybe he ought to run off and find another herd. Maybe of true deer. At least then none would laugh at him.
Scratching his ear, he sighed and got up, heading back to the herd. The forest was still too unfamiliar to stray too far for too long.
Too late though, they'd ditched him. Not a single one to be found...But they'd left in a panicked hurry according to the hoof prints in the mud and torn up grass. Which only meant one thing.
A predator was in the area.
His ears perked up, sniffing the air and on high alert now. Hunters? A bear? They'd not heard any wolves thus far...There was a scent now...but he couldn't place it. Was he just dumb or was the predator masking its scent? Maybe this forest had another kind, one not found in their old forest.
He could run. Always an option.
Alone...so alone.
Fear gripped Vincent, unable to move.
