Two pairs of unusual eyes, and the kin attached to them, met near the northern mudflats one fine, sunny morning. One pair of eyes was as blue as the cloudless winter sky, and just as clear and flat. The other pair was opaque, green, and glowing bright enough to be seen under the light of the sun.
The stag Wildflower Breeze was, at last, nearly over his discomfort with the animal-like eyes of his cousins, the Kiokote and Acha. He felt proud that he did not react negatively at all to the presence of the Kiokote buck across the clearing, and was able to meet his gaze with confidence and camaraderie. Sometimes, in turn, was rather proud that he wasn't shaking with fear before the majestic figure of one of the Motherfather's blessed stags. If they had the arms for it, the two bucks would have given themselves a hearty pat on the back for a job well done.
The Kiokote cleared his throat and approached. "Oh great, ah, Stag of the swamp," he intoned reverentially if not eloquently, "I have come to seek your blessing."
Amused, Breeze replied, "Oh brave Kiokote, once of the plains and twice of the swamp -" oh, was he ever pleased at the way the gray buck started to be addressed as such "- there is no need to be so formal. My name is Wildflower Breeze. Yourself?"
Caught quite off guard, the Kiokote stuttered, "It, it's Sometimes. My name is. I'm Sometimes." The gray buck gave a weak chuckle and said, "I suppose that old story is true, then, and we're sort of proof of ourselves, aren't we. Or are you proof of us, or is the swamp proof?" He was confusing himself.
Breeze weighed the options somberly. "The proof is subjective," he said evenly, "but the result is the same. You are quite real, as are the Acha, and you have returned home." Breathing deeply of the mild air, the stag continued, "It is a strongly-held belief of mine that many stories have some root in a true event." He paused, as if he expected Sometimes to respond. The gray Kiokote was ill-equipped to do so - stories were not told often in the grasslands, and he had hardly ever listened to most. Fortunately, Breeze continued on his own. The stag's face lightened. "But you came here for a blessing," he said to the Kiokote, "not to hear me prattle on about stories."
Quite relieved, Sometimes explained his situation. "I have been courting a doe, and I expect we will be, intimate, soon. I have heard that you chosen Stags and Mares can bless the health of a clutch, help more of them hatch?"
The stag nodded. "That is indeed the case." He had blessed many clutches before (as a matter of fact, there were a rather large number of children who had some small touch of his by now - he was unsure whether he was more proud or embarrassed by this). Never mind that he had never blessed a buck or a kiokote before - he saw no reason why he shouldn't, or couldn't!
"Come closer," Breeze asked. Sometimes, with only the barest hesitation, stepped forward to stand before the stag, his mane wind-tossed as the elder's garland of mint. Breeze began his usual routine of pacing around his target, scrutinizing him. This was as much for his own curiosity as to check the subject's health. The Kiokote really were very different - a little smaller, but all wiry muscle. Their whole bodies were built for speed, right down to their sleek faces - it was little wonder few Kimeti bested them in races.
Sometimes tried to return the Stag's scrutiny discreetly. The great shaggy form, and the gnarled horns, and the ridiculous brightness of those solid green eyes filled him with awe. Here is as wise and old a b*****d as ever there was, he thought, blessed by the Motherfather I've all but forgotten. Look at him - he is different, he is blessed, She did the blessing, She exists. Direct line of proof. The fact that such a creature would be so humble as to hold him as an equal - well. Sometimes was really squirming under the Stag's gaze.
Finally, Breeze stopped before him and looked him in the eyes again. They were really sort of interesting, in their way, Breeze supposed. And a very nice blue. The Stag said, speech formal again, "Your children with this doe will be healthy and strong and fast. They will be sharp as thorns, and never lose a game of wit or skill." He called his bird-shape out of hiding, and with it, laid a wreath of mint upon the Kiokote's brow. "Give that to your doe," he said, "And both you and her eat it when she tires of wearing it."
Sometimes blinked, surprised. He did not feel very different, and the mint on his head was certainly just as normal and solid as the rest of the mint that grew wild in the swamp. Still, he had gotten his blessing. He bowed low to the Stag, and offered his heartfelt gratitude. The bucks then split, Sometimes heading to meet his doe and Breeze remaining in his mint thicket to see if he would have any other visitors that day.
