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Your Username: elvyralani
Kin Involved:
Your Story:
Leaf moved around a lot. Sometimes he was here, other times he was there. It was normal for him to know of others but he never really knew them well. There was this one doe he saw time to time. He was always glad when he was in the area she frequented. Although he never said a word to her.

Until that day. It had been raining hard. Normally he'd just push through. Leaf stopped in the rain and saw her. Standing under a tree for shelter, the doe. She'd been afraid of the storm, much more so than he. Leaf spoke with her, distracted her from the storm. They had such a great conversation that both never realized that the rain had stopped.

Come morning the wanderlust struck him. He didn't want to leave but something pulled him away. At least he had been able to confort the doe for sometime. Perhaps he'd see her another time.

Your Username: fluorescein
Kin Involved:
Your Story: Never trust a talking Caiman who leads you to a pop-up shop owned by two does offering stargazing with complimentary 'sensual massages' on a full moon. He thought it was a fortune telling stall.

Your Username: Jun D
Kin Involved:
Your Story:
First Strike tore thoughtfully (and not a little vengefully) into the fresh mongoose before her, chewing rhythmically as she pondered the news. Her other children had brought tidings that her favourite son had gone off and had foals with some doe right as she'd crushed the tiny skull beneath a crimson hoof. "You're a grandma now, Mother," they had said before leaving, eyeing the still-convulsing body with distaste, "act like one some time." Currently, said breakfast felt rather ruined.

Grandfoals. From her darling Mercy. With some doe. GRANDfoals.

And what did any of it have to do with her breakfast habits, anyway? Abruptly, she stepped back, ground the remnants of the carcass into the mud and strode away. She had made her decision: she would go get laid. That would show them. Grandma still had it. Not having seen fit to wash the lurid bloodstains all across her muzzle and chest off before this hunt; it took some time before she finally found a buck that did not run screaming from the sight of her.

Your Username: thyPOPE
Kin Involved:
Your Story: She wasn't singing.

For some reason that struck him as a crime: Singing Sand doubled back a little (his sister could wait; she had a pretty voice, but he did like hearing new kin, too!) and crouched down to listen again. She was one of those does that'd talk to their pets, and her voice was scratchy, warm and (obviously) unfamiliar. Her throat wasn't in the best condition; Rumble could tell with ease that she had sounded better, and that she could again. She had a deep voice, not altogether unusual.

But it was so captivating.

Rumble uncurled himself from the floor and picked himself up. Ugh - he was messy. But that didn't matter. He cleared his throat, made sure that his voice was in a workable state with a few warm-ups, and then approached. The doe was already staring at him. Oh, dear, had she heard that? That couldn't do.

"I'm sorry, it's just that your voice caught me off guard. Your - " He paused, and glanced at the pet she'd been murmuring to before he'd interrupted. "Your mongoose seems very lovely; does it sing, too?"

She had an incredulous laugh, but it was so beautiful. Rumble was pleased. Yes, he'd chosen well. "I mean, I wouldn't like to presume, but - you do sing, don't you? Please - it would be a terrible thing if you didn't. Your voice is something to behold."

"I don't think you've heard me singing," she said finally. "Who are you?"

"I'm Singing Sand - you can call me Rumble; you probably haven't been to the desert but that's really what it sounds like anyway. Singing Sand, I mean. It's so beautiful, I don't know - you should head out there some time. Not to presume, but the desert is really gorgeous. Lots of color, lots of life. I mean, there's life here, too, and I guess you could say that there's a lot more voices. More things speak. But the desert has a sublime sound. Trust me, it can't be matched. Are you from around here? I'm not from around here; I - "

"That's very well," she answered, but she sounded like she was laughing.

"Is something the matter? Oh, you were - you were foraging, weren't you? For…berries, of some sort? I'm sorry, I have a weakness for pretty voices. I'd like a choir, see, and of course - well, who doesn't like hearing pretty things? So I couldn't really help but overhear - "

"It wasn't anything private, anyway." The doe cocked her head. “You can help me finish up to make up for it, I guess,” she allowed. “And you can tell me about your choir while we’re working.”

“That sounds more than fair. You know, I…” he began, and when he walked away from the encounter he didn’t regret that he’d probably never see her again.