Running through the forest theano noticed snowballs the size of her spots as a fawn. Pelting her coat she ran to and fro as if that would help abate the intense sting of half-ice half snowballs hitting her back. A few times theano reared her head up and head-butted the snowball into a tree. Looking at the Oak tree hollow told her a pile of bodies had cuddled to remain warm and to avoid the snowballs.

In that moment she remembered that the playground rock had a slanted piece for a covered open area and then the stone itself allowed entrance. So, she quickened her pace as she veered to the playground but as she did her back hooves slid and swerved. ICE in the forest.

Theano quickly shifted her weight the other way and balanced the unusual move. Dipping down the momentum forward made a sensual curve that lifted into an undulation that missed a fall and instead created a new dance move she could try during the group dances that were sure to come after the forest warmed.

Slowing the pace she sauntered to the playground where the small Stonehenge Wuan Mawn made by Merlin deer rose up to welcome one to the hidden labyrinth under the playground. Ancient deer had hinted many times that a prior tribe existed before them. The forest rose up out of their desire to have free place to play rather than the accidental hell they had created with too many rules.

Past her favorite sinkhole among the Stonehenge original that mimicked the peaty moorland she ducked under the slanted rock with its blue etchings. Then into the dark labyrinth underneath hidden in stone. She began the dance her parents had taught to move up her healing powers and with the stone nearby she fully expected it to amplify across the forest for any and all.

For what ever reason inside the playground stone it was warm and within hours she nestled down to sleep.

The smell of deep and old darkness fills the air. It crackles and grinds, surfaces and dives back into the dark, the deep gold sheen of the bark spirals. This friction births warmth, and from that warmth grow antlers. From that warmth grow the deer.

A white, sharp shard cuts into the cream velvet, and as it touches the skin, dissolves. Then come more. It contracts the veins. The ground swallows the white, that's how it transforms itself rigid, cold: The cradle of the fawn. Everyone is born alone.

From the parting eyelids peek out thawed eyes. In the distance, trails of light prance in the dark with hushed noise. Aromatic scents fill the lungs. And silver threads, from which usually stars hang, lift the legs up to raise the tender body. Another inhale and the muscles bloom. Pebble hooves descend to the ground. The legs already know what to do - animated by the spark it was born of, it springs towards the other crown-bearers. The body stretches at the apex of the jump, warm velvet skin stretching across the bone and muscles.
The cold air encases the form. It will remember this shape, among all the others that came before.

I invited her to dance
first circle
forest has joined in flowers
I fall asleep next to her
with spells
opens
folded dimensions
we look at each other
will trace its shape
ethereal
image in memory
--
I close the door
the sweet smell of the forest
from the depths
intoxicated
I fall asleep again sweet
the hyacinths will taste
tomorrow morning
--