Spare it Stag (literature version)

Place: Foot of The Iron Hills, Silverthorne
Time: Early afternoon - Early Autumn, Year 756 of the New Age



Bryn

The wind blew through the birch’s, toying with the slowly changing leaves. Most were still a pale green, the edges starting to turn to glorious reds and yellows. The sky was a deep blue color, white puffy clouds drifting lazily across. Many birds of different colors sang in the afternoon, a joyous song of life for them, before the long winter settled in.

A large stag stood at the bottom of the forested hill. The trees surrounding him creaked and swayed with the stronger gusts, adding their own melody to the forests on going symphony. He paid no mind to them, most were young and strong enough not to topple over. He surveyed the scenery, taking in account all the information. On the lookout for any potential danger, he took a few steps out from behind his tree. Pausing, his ears swivelled about, straining to hear any noise besides the creak of trees and birds singing. At certain points, the wind howled into his ears, completely blocking out all important sounds.

Bryn heaved a heavy sigh. He had been in Silverthorne for almost two weeks, with no sign of any fawnlings. There had been plenty of wolves and cats, however. Bryn had a few run ins with them, but it never lasted long. His larger size and assured presence usually sent them on their way, and if not, a good beating did. But no fawnlings had shown up. Not a hair, stool or scent that wasn’t months old he had seen.

Shaking his head to the side, he cantered on, looking for any sign. He needed some form of information to bring back to his superiors. He could not return until there was something to report, he didn’t want to find out the consequences for failing a mission.

~ To be continued ~

Aldra
Such a fragile being and yet, it held such great powers. Fawnlings were strange creatures: not made to survive attacks from predators, only to flee, yet many survived no matter what they did. Some fought with brute force, others used more...delicate ways.

The hauling plains before The Iron Hills was not a place that the grey doe visited often, yet today she did. What had brought her here was her own matter, but she intended to use the time she was given. Known to wander off, no one would miss her until nightfall. While she cared for no one, besides a chosen few, she could not pass a day without seeing the Flame. It was her life as much as her own blood; she lived partially, if not fully, for that flame. No one understood, but who was she to care?

The wind danced around her as she closed her eyes. There was a reason for her heir and she was going to show it. From seemingly nothing, a little flame sparked and gently swirled around her, touching her from time to time, in a playful manner. Focussing her mind, the fire split into multiple small ones before taking off in a chase. Following free leaves, each spark collided with one and send the sweet smell of burned greens into the wind. It was nothing big, but no one should start off without a little warm up.

Standing out in the open, another fawnling might have looked around, observed. Aldra was not such a fawnling. Fully focused on her magic, she seemed to forget the world. She was still there, still listening, but what reached her ears rarely got longer than that. She heard without hearing, saw without seeing. Oblivious to the world, yet placed right in it.

~ To be continued ~

Bryn

Bryn cantered lazily through the birches. His eyes swept the forest before him. The trees were beginning to thin. Not much, just enough to that the big stag could easily fit through without ducking and twisting.

The ground began to slope upward, ever so slightly, which in turn became a steeper hill. Fighting an upward battle, Bryn slowed to a trot. It wouldn’t do to break a leg. No one would help him here, in enemy territory. He tried thinking the thoughts from his head, snorting at the wind. It would not do to think like that, he was a Blackwood, they needed to be on top of their game all the time.

Lowering his head while trotting, he sniffed at the plants and few decaying leaves that had left their perch. The scent led to nothing except squirrel, bird and old predator smells, nothing... WAIT. Stopping, he shot his head up, stretching his neck out, taking deep breaths. The smell was faint, but it was there. It smelled like smoke, but different in a way. He slowly walked up the rest of the hill, head lowered, ears forward.

He had heard all about the magic Silverthornes used. Fire, dangerous when it was thoughtless, lethal when someone could control it. It wouldn’t do to be caught now, so early in his mission. He didn’t know how many there could be. He carefully weaved up the hillside, watching where he stepped, avoiding the crackly leaves. For now, the wind was on his side, but the vantage point wasn’t. He didn’t know if they were going to ambush, but he’d give them a fight before they charred him.

~To be continued~

Aldra
Another flame was sparked. It burst to life with a large force, being much bigger than intended by the young doe, but it soon found it’s right size. As big as her head, it bathed Aldra in a gentle, orange light. Flicking her tail, she moved the flame before setting it ‘free’. It was everything but free, but in these times, she let her mind wander and the flame with it. It created patterns, yet without them really being there. It danced it’s own dance; a dance of life. So alive and yet so dead. A giver and destroyer.

Sending the flame to the sky, she let it exploded. Essentially it looked like firework, as the small flames fell towards the ground, dying out on their way. Smiling at it, she let a new flame start. It ran over the grass, danced through the leaves; set nothing on fire, yet it burned with intensity. Pushing in more and more energy, making the flame bigger, it turned from the gentle orange to a dangerous white. The doe did not understand why, but she knew that it was hotter now and she liked that. So beautiful and at the same time deadly. Keeping it away from her, she slowly drained it again. She did not get the energy back, but let the wind have it. It made a warm breeze, that for a moment curled itself around her sleek body, before disappearing into the woods.

The doe did play with the thought of making another flame, but let the idea die out. It was a bit dangerous to play with the fire out here. Everything was dry and the wind could easily snatch something. That was why she usually trained around the Black Lake. There wasn’t too much that could catch on fire out there. Lowering her head, she gently touched the grass. The smile that had been faded and she took on the generally uninterested mask she always bore. Shortly her ears were perked, but soon they took a relaxed position as she started to graze.

~To be continued~

Bryn

Creeping painstakingly slow, Bryn kept a watch so that he wasn’t surprised by anything. Nerves on end, the hair on his back stood on end. Adrenaline pumped through him, his eyes focused on anything and everything that moved.

Toward the top of the hill, the trees were sparse, with only a few here and there, the bright blue sky shining through. Bryn didn’t like it, with no trees, how could he hide? He pressed on, though. He had a job to do.

The fire smell grew stronger. On certain breezes he felt the heat. Pausing, he sniffed at the air again. Mingling with the scent of fire was... *Fawnling* Bryn thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, he brought the scent in. It paled in comparison to the smell of fire, but there was only one. *Excellent* he thought to himself. Smirking, he crept forward with more urgency.

Finally at the top, he quickly surveyed the area. Flat, with hardly any trees besides where he was. He chose to hide behind two trees and a bush, forming a thicket. Looking out from his makeshift hiding spot, Bryn searched for the fawnling that the scent had belonged to. He saw a huge white flame, with a dusty doe in front of it. He could just barely see a half torn ear. It brought back memories of a past that seemed so long ago. *NO! Focus*

He watched her. The fire grew hotter white, then slowly died down. The wind carried the heat away, some of it caressing Bryn. He wondered if she was alone. A doe out alone during the rut was uncommon. There must be at least one stag out here with her.

With the flame gone, Bryn could see her more clearly. Indeed, the top half of her left ear was missing. She was dappled a beautiful color. But the strangest thing about her, was she had no mane. Her tail was a plume of hair, however, long and silky. Bryn’s breath caught, his heart beat a little faster. He had trained hard to ignore his body, but the Rut was still in him. The need to prove himself in strength and win does was hardwired into almost every stag, and Bryn was no exception.

Taking shallow breaths, he tried hard to compose himself. *You’re on a mission, act like it!* So, instead of fighting off whatever stag was with her, he stayed put, watching and waiting to see if any important information could be gleaned from her.

~To be continued~

Aldra
The wind playfully tumbled through the grass, danced through the leaves. Aldra payed no mind to the wind, before it made the few trees around her come to life in a symphony of sounds. Quickly pulling her head up, her ears pointed forward, she looked around with wide eyes. Nothing was caught though and after a few seconds, she lowered her head again.

Rut. A strange time for at doe to be alone, yet that was what Aldra was as far as she knew. A stag or two had shown interest in her, but when she refused to pay them any attention when they made they’re stupid, pointless fights, they stopped. Everyone knew that in her 8 years, she had never had any interest in a stag, let alone any kind of male, unless the Winterflame was one.

Aldra shook her head once, as the flame tickled her skin. A sudden annoyance overcame her and she snapped after the little flame. It died out, vanished. In dread she summoned the fire again and caressed it with as much care, as if it was a living being: as if it was a little fawn.

Slowly she moved away from where she stood and for a moment, she tempted the thought of leaving. She didn’t feel like staying, yet the thought of going back to those, in her mind, stupid stags that made up Silverthorne, did not quite please her. Everything was fighting during Autumn; in her mind it was kinda sad actually. Nothing but brute force seemed to be passed on, unless the brute lacked so much brain that it could not even catch a scared youngling.

While the wind made it dangerous dance over the plains, the sun shone bright. It was getting lower on the sky, but it was still warm when the wind died for a second. It ruffled her tail, tugged it in play. She tempted the thought of running with it, play with it, but it, as many others for the moment, died out. She felt like doing absolutely nothing; felt like laying in the grass, but knew that this was not a safe place to do it.

Time passed, but it was the only thing which did so. Suddenly though, her eyes caught something moving...

~To be continued~

Bryn

She paid no mind to anything, besides the few small sparks of flame she conjured. Bryn found it strange. He sniffed the air again, trying to scent if there were any others around her. Again and again, no other scent was there. Only her and her flames. The wind gusted around, twiring the few leaves that had dropped. Taking his eyes from her, he scanned the rest of the area, just to be sure. Hills were in abundance, all dotted with small woods.It seemed to go on forever, those rising peaks and plunging ravines. But no sign of any Silverthornes, no fires blazing from the forests, no tell tale antler thunder from battling stags.

Returning his attention back to the doe, he watched her intently, thinking of a plan. A single doe like this could be a scout, and the herd just over one of those hills. Perhaps he should follow her, to see if she brought him any closer to the herd.

He wondered if she was going to do anything more. She just stood there, sometimes putting her head down as if to graze, then lifting it to look around. Bryn’s brow furrowed as he puzzled at what she was doing. Perhaps she was waiting for a stag. The Silverthornes had that strange law of fives. It perplexed Bryn. Perhaps she was a sixth doe that the stag had wooed, but they would meet in secret.

As time slowly passed, no stag came. In fact, nothing had shown itself on the expansive hills but the wind and birds. Bryn’s mind began to wander, when a fly landed on his rump. Slowly turning his head, he quickly glanced at it. It was large, with glossy wings that shined purple in the sun.

Looking back at his target, Bryn quivered his skin, trying to dislodge the fly. It fluttered up, and landed in the same spot. Grinding his teeth together, he tried again. Instead of flying off, the fly crawled around, tickling Bryn. Shaking from the willpower not to move, he twitched all over.

And then, the fly bit him. It was excruciatingly painful. Blood welled up from his rump, which the fly sucked at eagerly. Without thinking, Bryn kicked out his leg, and swished his tail to get rid of the fly. His kick rustled up some leaves, and cracked a few tigs.

Freezing, he turned his attention back to his target. She had stopped her nothingness, and was staring in his direction. Her ear and a half were to attention, as her eyes searched his little thicket. Bryn’s mind raced with plots of escape, plans for fights, and ways to talk and charm his way out of a sticky situation. Perhaps she wouldn’t see him. *I doubt that, any fawnling with half a brain would see me.*

He downcasted his eyes from her. He knew from experience that looking at someone was one of the best ways to get their attention, like some force from your attention brought their attention to you. He did not want that.

~To be continued~

Aldra
She stood completely still. Not a muscle moved, she even almost stopped breathing. There was something, she was certain that there was! Flicking her tail, she courageously stepped forward, before taking a little jump. Her eyes focused, her ears were turned towards the trees. No doubt was in her mind, as she took a few more steps forward. It wasn’t just something, it was someone. In betweens branches and other vegetation, she could see legs; legs of a fawnling that is. Pulling her head up in a high position, her ears turned backwards. No one should be out here as far as she knew. It could be a young stag, but what was the odds? They all drooled over does in the different camps. Flicking her tail again, she finally uttered words.

“I’ve seen you, whoever you are...”

Keeping her eyes on the trees, her mind started to wander a bit. If it indeed wasn’t one from Silverthorne, then who was it? Probably not an Oakfern or Windborne, they lived too far away and would have had to pass through Silverthorne or Blackwood Territory. Could it be a Blackwood stag? Perhaps, and yet it seemed unlikely. The boarder wasn’t that close and what would he do out here in the Iron Hills anyway? There was a camp nearby, but not that nearby. Glenwood? Seemed unlikely, but just as with the Blackwood, it could be. Despite all her thoughts, she hoped it was just some young stag or doe that had wandered off. Maybe both? Shaking her head, she tilted it slightly to the side, her brow eyes still locked on where the movement had been.

If she had to be honest, she would normally just walk away from here, not care for who it was. But, this was so far away, that she couldn’t just walk away. It was a potential threat and she couldn’t allow that to potentially come near the Winterflame..erh..she meant any Silverthorne camp. Thinking about it, what would she do if it was a stag from another herd? Flee? Right, good idea, flee from everything. She could use fire? And potentially start a forestfire...

~To be continued~

Bryn

A few moments passed, and he heard her speak, “I’ve seen you, whoever you are...”
He glanced up at her, and startled, took a step back. She had come much closer, gazing intently at where he was, hidden behind the thicket. Glancing down, he saw that lower, the brush wasn’t as thick, so his legs showed through. *Curses* he thought to himself. *A careless mistake, Great Uir, help me fool this doe.* he prayed.

He would charm her, or at least try. The does of Blackwood liked it, but never completely fell for charming stags, and were cunning in their own charms. It was the rut, after all, she had to expect stags were going to try and charm her.

Composing himself, he put on his best smile, and pranced out of the thicket. He kept his head high, seemingly to impress her with his antlers, but also trying not to frighten her into attack or possibly run away at the sight of an aggressive male.

“Well, that wasn’t a fun game of hide and seek, now was it?” He swaggered up to her, being ever watchful of all her movements. Keeping a respectful distance, he leaned his head closer to her, “What brings you out to the Iron Hills on this beautiful afternoon? You’re fire magic is quite stunning.”

~To be continued~

Aldra

The greyish doe merely looked at him, his words and attitude falling short. She was never much for flirtatious word and charming manners; in some ways it just didn’t make sense to the logic she based her world upon. She had to give him that, despite being on the thin site, he wasn’t a bad looking stag and his words were nice, but they met deaf ears. Her look was portrayed no emotions besides the usually on guard and the large amount of distrust that always lingered in her eyes. She trusted a chosen few in this world and while her private space was very small and she allowed quite a bit, she had very clear lines of where others could go and couldn’t.

“Spare it Stag.”

Her voice was non-caring, yet a little demanding. Maybe she was a bit harsh, maybe not. She didn’t really care; she just didn’t want to hear more chatter, for he was clearly not a Silverthorne stag, not that she would have if he had been. He was too thin and she hadn’t seen him before. Not that she had seen everyone in whole Silverthorne, but she had seen her fair share and he didn’t quite fit into the profile she had of stags from her herd. Plus, what was he doing, wandering after a lonely doe when the camps were full of those considered much more desirable? It wasn’t like she was the perfect image of beauty! Missing an ear and a mane. At least she didn’t have a horn...

“You’re not from Silverthorne.”

~To be continued~

Bryn

She didn’t respond to his advances, only meeting his gaze with distrust, and was that...boredom? He watched her gaze over him. He thought he looked fit, he’d put on some pounds while in the hills, though it all went to his muscles, not his ribs.

Raising his head at her statement, he glared down at her, until a playful smile came to his lips. “Why, yes I am. I’ve never been to this area, so when an opportunity came to explore, I jumped on it.” Looking down at the ground, he put on an embarrassed expression. “I seem to have gotten myself lost. I can’t figure out where my fellow stags went. The spot where we had camped, they are no longer there.” The lie flowed between his lips as easy as honey.

“When I saw you, I just could not bring myself to bother you from your fire magic. It was so beautiful.” He looked up, smiling shyly, waiting for her response.

~To be continued~

Aldra

He’d gotten lost. Really? And now he was asking her for help; it sounded thruthfully, but she wasn’t entirely sure that she believed his words. She tipped her ears forwards, listening to his words without really taking in what was said: it wasn’t of large importance, so it was remembered, but would be gone in minutes.

“Thank you.”

She had some manners, so she had to at least say thank you for the kind words, even if she didn’t like them. Tilting her head to the side, sending the stag a skeptical look, she shortly looked from him to around herself.

“Since you’re not Silverthorne, then what are you?”

No matter who and what he were, she would never take him back to the camp. Any stag there would impale him at first sight; they didn’t want more competion and even though he might just be a lost wanderer, an outsider during rut was far from welcome.

~To be continued~

Bryn

*Grr, she’s harder to trick then a Glenmore* he thought to himself. He watched her intently. She didn’t seem, all there, almost ignoring his words. Perhaps that was for the best, it would give him practice at smooth talking to more, difficult does.

At least she had some manners, though he didn’t really care if she thought his compliments. This was just practice. She did, however, keep giving round about answers, and asking him the questions. He had places to go, herds to spy on, and this doe wasn’t getting him to either.

A harsh wind blew in his ears, his mane flying in all directions. It screamed at him, as if it knew he was an outsider who wished harm on it’s homeland. He smiled at it, gazing off pass the doe, thinking. *Oh wind, it’s not me bringing harm, it’s my herd that will take control of it.*

He almost didn’t hear her question, with the wind howling at him and his mind venturing off to Glenmore.

Turning his attention back to her, his smile broadens. “Why, I am simply me. A wandering stag who got lost on his travels.” Pausing, as if in thought, he added, “Perhaps you could help me.” Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “You see, my band of fellow stags told me they were heading off to Skylake. Could you perhaps show me the way.” and quickly, he looked down, as if suddenly shy “Or you could just give me some directions on how to get there. All these trees and gullies look the same.” He gestured with his head back to the forest he had come out of.

Looking back at her, he put on his sweetest smile, hoping for an answer. He did know the basic route to Skylake, and perhaps there were more, entertaining fawnlings there.

~To be continued~

Aldra

Snorting at his answer, it was clear that the doe was not satisfied with his answer, nor with the words following. She did all but believe him. Actually, she was a bit superstitious: suddenly remembering things, changing stuff. It didn’t make sense if he was just a simple, lost stag. And why didn’t he want to tell her where he was from? It wasn’t like she was going to kill him; even if he was from Blackwood, his heritage meant nothing to her, unless he hurt anything or anyone of course.

“Simply ‘me’.”

Rolling her eyes very lightly, she muttered to herself more than anything, keeping her voices so low that it was lost in the howling wind. Keeping an eye on the stag, she turned her delicate head towards the mountains and hills in the distance. It took a moment for her to remember which was which, when she was where she was. Looking back at the stag, seeming like she considered whether to send him off on a blind chase or actually give him the way, she finally made up her mind and her voice sounded again.

“Let that peak be straight infront you at all times...”

A light nod towards a large mountain in the distance was all she did in a short moment of silence. She knew it as Wind Peak, but it was rare for others to know it by the same name.

“...and unless you get hurt or, may Aeveen know why, you decide to not follow the peak, you should arrive at Skylake fairly quickly.”

Looking at him, still skeptical, she flicked her tail. She didn’t like him, yet she had become curious about what, who, he was. He wasn’t, couldn’t be, just a simple, lost stag. It just didn’t fit in her mind. Spending time with him wasn’t on her want list though, so the chance of that curiosity to be satisfied was small, if not impossible.