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I haven't seen a soul dressed like this since I was born. Why is that skull thing such a big fad? Why isn't it this big tribal mask, the one that stands up and yells, Look at me?
The forest, being where it was, had already grown warm with the promise of summer. The cicadas once more took their place in the long grass, quite a few already launching into their droning hum. A black-and-white doe lay on the muddier terrain, breathing deeply in sleep over the rippling water of the river. The area was quiet, and peaceful. Until, however, a stag’s deep belling echoed over the expanse, and her ears pricked, followed by her neck craning upward to look about.
It’s so hot.
She shook her head to clear it, sending feathers shaking wildly, and hauled herself to her feet with difficulty. The sun beamed down on her ash-toned back, spotting it in light and radiating warmth throughout her body. The doe smiled under her mask. These were the glory days of the forest – while some wished desperately for weather changes, that brought variety and so-called ‘enjoyment’, it was when the temperature was that of a fire’s glow that she found herself most content.
But then there was the matter of her fur. Caked in dried mud and quite disagreeable. The creek was too narrow here to wade in – testing her leg shortly and finding it mostly fine, the long-legged hind took off at a canter, taking her time to feel the breeze wind over her skin.
The water’ll be cold.
Slowing within a short time, she snorted appreciatively as the crystal blue of the Pond came into view behind the willow trees.
