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Why did I let this happen!?

That was the only thought that went through his mind as he wandered through the shadows of the night forest, hurt both physically and mentally as the scene replayed over again infront of his eyes.

"Run Coron! Run!" His mothers last words seemed to echo as he ran off, past the outriders who ran towards the scene, hearing their sounds of shock and one of them shouting out for him to stop.
But he couldn't.
He wasn't going to go back, they'd blame him, they'd hurt him if he went back!
He didn't care if he was wounded, the adrenaline subsided his pain and made him run faster as he went past the borders of the herd lands.
He made those wolves come!
He'd brought them to his and his mothers den!
And he'd caused his mother to get attacked.

A small tear rolled over his dark brown cheek as he looked down at the dark forest floor, limping as he went.
Those wolves hadn't let him get too far away without letting him feel their fangs on his tender calf flesh.
Her hind left leg bleeding slightly as he continued to try and get further and further away from the accusing eyes of his herd.
But finally, exhaustion took ahold of him after what seemed like an eternity of running and he fell to the ground.

.....
.....
Hey...
.....
Kid...?...Are you alright?
.....
You think he's dead?
.....
Someone better go tell Fell Lore we found a calf...
.....

His eyes fluttered open and he saw the blurred outlines of a couple of stags, oh no, had they found him?
Were they here to punish him?
No...no these weren't the stags he knew...these were different.
What were they saying?

.....
Hey...guys, look at this mark on his pelt...
.....
It's like that of Rannoch!
.....
Do you think he's reborn through this calf?
.....
Who knows, Herne works in mysterious ways...
.....
Let's take him back to the herd...
....
...
..
.

His eyes fluttered open, he was under a huge tree in the middle of a meadow, the sight of the sun rising over the mountain peaks and horizon of the forest reached his eyes.
The sight of sleeping hinds and outriders on the edge of the woods...this place, he'd never seen it before.

"...where am I?"

“Look, all I’m saying is that blackberries are way better than blackberry leaves,” the stag sighed.
“And all I’m saying is that you’re out of your mind! Blackberry leaves don’t have that dreadful aftertaste that-” the speaking deer was cut of.
“Wait.....” the stag signaled for the following buck to stay quiet.
“Don’t change the subject, Orrin!”
The buck was jabbed under the ribs by the outrider’s antlers.
“Okay,” the other wheezed, “That was uncalled for.”
“Liam, would you just shut up?!” Orrin’s voice practically cracked the leaves.
Not quiet recovered, Liam coughed, “Smooth.”
Giving a backward glare, Orrin sprung into the bushes.
“Uh, yeah,” Liam huffed, “I think I’ll wait here. Trying to breath.”
A calf walked out of the shrubbery blood dripping from his mouth, and collapsed to his knees.
“Oh, Herne,” Liam gasped, pointing to the calf with his hoof, “Oh, Herne..... It ate Orrin!!!”
“Idiot, I’m right here.” Orrin leapt over the hedges
“Oh. Oh, okay.”
“C’mon, the youngling’s tongue is swollen and bleeding, he’s dehydrated.”

A few mouthfuls of water later and the calf could walk again. Leaning against the outrider and corps member, he slowly made his way to th Firebringer Herd.

“He bears the oakleaf!”
“You don’t think– ”
“Rannoch has returned to us....”
“That’s impossible, the boy can’t even speak to lera.”
“Now look, you’ve woken the poor lad up!”
Warm against the flank of a hind, the calf had slept. But now, he raised his weary head to the sound of mumbling herla.
“What’s your name, child?” a stag asked, “Is it ‘Rannoch’?”
“No,” the calf yawned, “Who’s Rannoch?”
A doe gasped, “You mean you don’t know?!”
“Uh-uh.... Should I?”
“Should I, he says,” scoffed another.
The stag glanced at the females with impatience, then turned back to the child, “Rannoch was our deliverer from Sgorr, an evil half-stag that wished to create a ‘Great Herd’--”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. What’s wrong with a great herd?”
“Plenty,” the Outrider said sternly, “He meant to combine all the deer together, and kill all the lera.”
“Well, wanting to kill all the lera is pretty bad..... I like lera.”
The stag nodded, “We all owe a great debt to Rannoch, including you.”
“Is that the legend your people believe in?”
“Legend? It’s no ‘legend’, boy.”
The youngling shrugged, “Either way, I’ve never heard of him.”
An outraged elder bellowed, “Such impudence, to the memory of Rannoch; unforgivable!”
“Hush, you old brailah!” the hind sheltering the child snapped, “How can he be expected to show reverence to the memory of one he doesn’t even know?”
The stag rolled his eyes, “Child, tell us where you come from,” he ordered.
But the calf gave no response; he’d already returned to his slumber.

"It's a nice day," the little voice declared tremulously to the foggy dawn. "Very nice. Nice day. Nice sun... and... nice clouds. It's very nice out today."

The young deer picked his way through the forest's undergrowth. With each step he lifted his hoof high, trying to clear the vegetation that clung to him. His fur was thick with dew.

"Very. Very. It's a very nice day."

But it wasn't nice -- it wasn't -- it was midnight and it was raining and there was something coming -- behind -- behind him always following and he couldn't hear it for the rain but he could feel it -- he could feel it -- it was going to... it was going to... to...

"It's a nice day!" howled the calf. He writhed against a tree, pressing himself into the bark as if he could hide inside it. "It's nice and you can't get me because it's nice!"

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

"Who's there?" replied the calf, his eyes jumping crazily with terror. "Show yourself!"

It was a stag, approaching with his head held high. He watched the young deer from a distance. "I asked first."

"Very nice sun today! And clouds! And birds! Very nice day!"

The stag eyed the murky light. "What in Herne's name are you talking about, kid?" he said, sounding bewildered and mildly amused.

Another stag materialized opposite the first, growling, "I'd like to know the same."

The calf's legs were still as steady as spidersilk and he was still trying to hide inside the tree, but he tossed his head impudently. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The second stag came closer. "That's what I just said." His voice rose threateningly and he glared at the first stag. "I don't like nonsense. What's this scruffy little brat doing way out here?"

"He's not from our herd," said the first stag. "Don't be so harsh -- it looks like he's traveled pretty far."

"A foreigner then? Why haven't you driven him away?" snapped the second stag, whom the calf decided was very grumpy. He didn't like grumpy deer. Especially grumpy deer who called him a brat.

The first stag didn't even have time to answer, because the dark young deer had pulled away from the tree and walked carefully into a patch of gray light. He watched the outriders curiously, tilting his head and looking as innocent as a tired, scruffy, trembling little deer could. The grumpy stag narrowed his eyes and spat, "What is that?" at the same time as the friendly stag whispered excitedly, "What is that?"

"What's what?" asked the calf, smiling in puzzlement, utterly innocent.

"That!" said Grump. He jabbed his nose in the direction of the oak leaf marking on the calf's back. "That! Right there!"

The friendly stag trotted closer and examined the marking, and there was awe in his voice as he said, "It's a leaf."

"Ohhh, the leaf!"

Both stags blinked at the young deer in surprise. He smiled and explained airily, "That's where a leaf fell on me. Out of a tree, you know? It fell on me and there was this burning feeling, and when I pulled the leaf off it had made my fur lighter."

Grump shook his antlers and scraped the ground with his hoof. "It's a bit of light-colored fur. Don't be stupid, scruffball."

But Friendly hissed, "Shut it," at Grump, and the calf decided that he liked this stag. He liked friendly deer. Especially friendly deer who saw his leaf mark and got that look in their eye, that look that said 'this means something.'

I have them now. They're eating it up, he thought smugly.

"Listen, Scruff," said Grump shortly, "I haven't got a lot of patience and you're doing a good job of stretching it. Get out of here. You're not in our herd, so you either get out or you get a kick through the head."

Friendly tried to cut him off, failed, and spoke over him. "Don't listen to him, kid. We're not barbarians here. What's your name? Where'd you come from?"

"Shh," the calf hissed. He was eyeing the tree branches above. It's a long shot... didn't work before, but what have I got to lose? "Don't worry," he said loudly to the leaves. "We're just talking. We're not going to hurt you." He smiled at the confusion of the stags. "You scared the bird there. She said you were scary. Well you are kind of scary," he pointed out judiciously.

The two adults looked at each other for a few moments. The calf watched nervously. Night seemed far away, and the rain and the terror seemed farther. He nosed at the scruffy mane around his neck, trying to tidy it and look as innocent and sincere as he could.

"Freak," snarled Grump. "Do whatever you want, Scruffball, but if I catch you alone you'll learn the meaning of scary." He bounded away into the forest.

A splinter of panic wedged itself into the young deer's heart. They didn't believe him! He was lying of course, lying about the leaf and about being a speaker, so they had every right not to believe him but -- he didn't want to be left alone -- he didn't want to -- it wasn't a nice day after all, it was midnight and it was raining and there was something --

"You can talk to animals?"

The calf's legs buckled and he keeled over, but Friendly dove forward and caught him with his antlers before he hit the ground. "Hey, hey, kid! Stay with me now."

He wasn't alone. He wasn't alone. He steadied himself and smiled weakly. "I'm all right."

"What's your name?"

"N-nothing... no... I... um... don't have a name."

"What? Why not? Didn't your mother name you?"

"No... no mother, either."

The best way to keep the darkness at bay is to pretend it doesn't exist.

Friendly looked sad at this news. "That's too bad. How about a herd? Where are you from?"

"I... I... I don't... know."

"Lost, no mother, no name... Sorry case indeed. It's always the ones..." The stag trailed off, but the calf knew what he meant to say. It's always the ones who matter; it's always the special ones. Always the special ones who lose everything so they can gain even more.

That's what he told himself.

"Don't worry about it," said Friendly. "We'll get you in to see the Lord and we'll figure something out. I'll just call you... I'll just call you Scruff. How 'bout it, Scruff?"

Scruff nodded enthusiastically and allowed himself to be led by the stag. Inwardly he was watery with relief. And midnight... it was far, far away.