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Cledwyn moved across the moonlit field slowly, his head held down low so that it was parallel with his chest. If he had it his way he could change his eyesight so that he could see more than a few inches from the tip of his nose. Even looking at something that had landed on his muzzle seemed to be fuzzier than he wanted it to be. That was the way life was, he supposed, despite his protests against it. If only he could see as well as the other deer or be as healthy as them. He had to watch himself in the middle of the winter-time to make sure that he didn't freeze to death and in the middle of the summer time to make sure he didn't get himself burned.

That was another thing he hated-his white coat. It blended in well with the snow of the winter months, but once summer-time came it was a burden. It easily got sunburned and he stood most of the day under the shade of the trees, which didn't do much for the heat. It seemed that everything wanted to get Cledwyn irate.

Shaking his head, he stopped in his tracks as he saw the blurred outline of a patch of dandelions. Gazing around a few times, he lowered his head down closer to the weeds and examined them. They seemed to be good enough to eat and there were plenty for him to eat and not diminish the whole bundle. Though he didn't know if the Lord of the herd was around. He hadn't seen Fell Lore in some time, though the only times he left his little thicket were in the dead of the night when the sun had set and the temperatures were down to a bearable degree. Sighing and flicking his ears back and forth, he tenderly plucked a single dandelion from the group and began to eat it slowly.

Hearing a voice from nearby, Cledwyn quickly lifted his head away from the dandelions to see a dark from near him. He didn't recognize the stag, but then again he was never very good with familiarizing himself with the others of the herd. It could have been the Lord of the herd standing in front of him and Cledwyn would have no clue until he started talking to him.

Flicking an ear, he hesitated before answering Brychan's question. Was it that unusual for him to be up so late? He hadn't thought of that before. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, he took a few steps towards Brychan to see him better. "I usually get most of my rest during the day. It is too hot to do anything else other than sleep," he said to the stag with honesty in his voice. He didn't want to tell the other herla of his poor health. 'He probably already knows,' he thought to himself.

Gazing up at the sky, he pricked both ears up as he saw that it was a full moon. That was the only thing that he could sort of see clearly since the moon was so big and bright that night. "Also, I've been running some stories through my mind to tell the youngsters next time I see them. They seem to love my stories and it brings me such joy to see their smiling faces." He didn't know if Brychan knew of a storyteller when he was growing up, but he would be happy to share a story to him if the other herla wanted him to.

The elder storyteller nodded his head, heading the outrider's words. "I will make sure to stay near the middle of the herdlands to keep out of your way," he said in a soft voice, knowing that he may not do that if he wandered too much, which wasn't like Cledwyn.

Cledwyn's ears pricked up as he heard Brychan say that he hadn't heard a story since he was a young buck. "Well, then, if you aren't too busy I could tell you a quick story," he suggested to the stag, his head canted slightly to one side.

Cledwyn nodded his head, having a good idea what story he wanted to tell the younger stag. “Thank you,” he said before settling down on the ground, tucking his legs under his body.

“This tale is from long ago, before you or I was even born. Even before the birth of our current Lord. It is the tale of Rannoch. In those times, our kin have never been so fancily marked. To have a marking was an honor, but to have a marking like Rannoch did…well, it was an greater honor for that. The symbol he bore on his forehead held great honor and normally marked the birth of a great leader. Some even said that it was Rannoch himself who would bring all freedom for all Herla.

As the young buck aged, he began to realize his great destiny, though there was one who stood in his way-Sgorr. Though, through difficult times and being ran out of the herd by this violent Herla, Rannoch succeeded in taking what was rightfully his-Lordship over the herd.”

“That is only a brief touch of his past, though I had known it before. It has been many years since I have told it to someone and some of the information has leaked from my memory. I hope that in due time I may remember it again. I sense something is changing, though I cannot say for certain if it is good or bad.”

"I have faith that you and the other Outriders will keep this herd from any dangers that may threaten our existance here on these lands," Cledwyn said to the younger stag. If he was younger and healthier he would be amongst the Outriders, helping patrol the area. But he was born sickly and albino. He stuck out like a sore thumb and had hardly any eyesight which started to decay rapidly as he grew older. It seemed the only thing useful for him was telling stories to the young fawns everyday.

The old storyteller gazed up at the sky and he pricked his ears forward. "It seems like the sands of time are turning in a different direction. I sense some change in the future, but I am not certain how far along in the future it is. We best be on our guard for something."

Cledwyn nodded his head and slowly started to get up. "I have taken up too much of your time. I think it is best for me to try and get a little rest before sunrise. May Herne be with you," he said before slowly starting to move away from the starry Outrider, his head held down low to the ground.

The old stag stopped in his tracks as he heard Brychan speak to him. Turning his head around to face the younger stag, he bobbed his head slightly. "I would love that. Maybe by then I can dig up a few more stories to tell you." Hearing the other stag's name being said, he pricked up his ears. "Cledwyn. It has been a pleasure meeting you, Brychan. I hope your harem is as king as you are."

Cledwyn smiled when he heard the word 'younglings'. He was always happy whenever the young fawns came to him to demand him to tell them stories. Usually it was only one or two stories a day, but that seemed to please the fawns for the rest of the day.

Hearing that his harem was a group of fine hinds, he nodded his head. "Treasure them forever. I wish I had treasured my old loved one. Too bad she was never healthy enough to bear me any heirs. Not that that mattered to me. I knew that her health would have made bearing fawns impossible."