At the sight of the newcomer, the two crows crowded around and bid the little deer welcome. The pretty thing only looked at them with scorn though, and quickly pushed them away with the swipe of a foot.
“Master Bartleby? What fettle the day? Hoo are ye?” Debit asked as he flew up a bit, casually avoiding the fawn’s strike. The fawn, who will now call Bartleby, merely looked at him with some disdain. As Bartleby is also called ‘Master’ we will also assume that it is a ‘he’. The two crows fluttered about their Master’s head a bit before finally settling on his white back.
Bartley now turned to our own little fawn, “My apologies that you had to be escorted by such nasty things.” He said with a slight bow of the head. “Please, won’t you come over? I’m afraid I can’t, I don’t want to get dirty in that old brook.” He lifted one of his magnificent little hooves and licked it daintily.
The little fawn (that is, our little fawn) seemed to understand the request and scampered across the brook. When he got to the other side his shaggy under-coat was all that was drenched in the muddy water.
“Very good then, now… let me take a look at you…” Bartleby circled around him a number of times, before suddenly rearing his head and nipping our fawn’s shoulder. It took a few seconds before our fawn cried out in pain. “He isn’t very bright… why did you pick him?” Bartleby turned his head around to the crows lounging on his back. “W’ saw him in the ol’ hause wit a deed doe.” Credit said. “Aye, w’ felt soory for him’ Thaas all.” Debit piped up. “I see…” the pretty little fawn murmured sympathetically. “And… what is his name?”
At this, the two crows looked at one another and then at their Master. “Weel, you know, Master. Names are daangerus’ things they are. I reckon his mother didn’t ave’ one either, ya?”
The gold-hoofed fawn pondered this for a moment and finally said, “True, names are dangerous.
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