[center] The sun was warm and the gurgle of the nearby stream lulled in the balmy evening air. It had been this way for a while, ever since the fog.
Stretching my cramped muscles I rose intent on finding Garth. We hadn’t seen each other in quite a while and I longed for her companionship. Turning to leave I was frightened out of my wits by a sleeping form exactly where I had lain moments before.
I had not seen the new comer and at first I was fooled into thinking I had fallen asleep on this stranger. Looking closer I saw that they had fluffy honey and butter colored fur, the long sleek shapes of several feathers on their head made me think it was riptail, he did after all sleep most often under the willows that overlooked the glassy surface of the pond.
They appeared to be male, judging by the strong crest of their thicker neck and the ropy muscles beneath their fur. Cautiously creeping around their other side I was surprised to see not the grinning face of a skull but the sleek taper of a real deer’s muzzle.
For the first time I looked to his picto delicately floating above the crowning spires of his feathers. For a moment its shape was obscured by the long waving branches of the ancient willow we had fallen asleep by, then as the wind wisped them away I gasped.
The delicate curves that defined a deer’s very soul matched my own. Now very curious I stepped forward and gave him a sniff. His smell was sweet and sharp at the same time, like the scent of decaying pine needles, russet with rot.
