Although blind, she sees what sighted creatures cannot: the auras of other deer. Kind souls glow golden, anxious ones pulse crimson, and those carrying sorrow are wrapped in gentle blue mist.

The Forest gave her this gift when it took her sight.

Every full moon she dreams of a silver lake. In the dream she can see. Her reflection stares back with eyes made of starlight.

A voice whispers: “When you are ready, come find me.” She believes the lake is real.

She hums a melody no one taught her. Other deer who hear it feel an inexplicable calm. Old grudges soften, anxiety fades away.

Some believe the Twin Gods planted it in her heart at birth.

When BunBun weeps, her tears are not water. They fall as tiny drops of liquid silver that harden into crystals the moment they touch the ground. The forest floor near the Weeping Willow is scattered with them, half-buried in moss. Some deer collect them, believing they bring clarity of mind. She does not know this. She only knows that crying leaves her lighter.

Hidden beneath her golden fur, faint golden scars form a pattern. They are not random. Seen from above, they trace the constellations of the night sky she was born under. Each scar appeared after a moment of deep emotional connection with another creature. The more bonds she forms, the more complete the star map becomes. No one has ever seen it in full, not even her.

BunBun can press her forehead against any ancient tree and feel its memories. Centuries of rain, fire, growth, and silence flow through her like a river. She has felt the forest when it was young, when the first deer walked its paths. Sometimes she stays pressed against the bark for hours, lost in a time that is not her own. When she pulls away, a faint golden imprint of her tiara remains on the wood, slowly fading over days.

Her blood runs pure gold, warm and luminous, like molten sunlight beneath white skin.

It is cast from white gold, whose particles have seeped through her fur and into her very skin. She cannot remove it or separate it from herself, for it is literally a part of her. Delicate, barely visible, it crowns her forehead like a whisper of royalty that she herself will never see.

Tiny flecks of genuine white gold scattered across her fur, like frozen stars woven into her being since birth.

BunBun has been blind since birth, yet she is not without sight, only without it in the conventional sense. Her hearing, smell, and touch are extraordinarily developed. She can detect movement dozens of meters away.

She has lived for tens of thousands of years, moving through time. In her past life she was the only unicorn ever tamed by a human. She loved him the way a mother loves her child. She wanted to spend her entire life with him, to give him everything, but time takes its toll. After decades, when his hands were covered in wrinkles, her son died. And then came her time for a new rebirth. This time she found herself in the Endless Forest, in the body of a fragile, somewhat sickly doe.

The soft purple haze at dawn. Her scent carries traces of these blooms discovered on her first morning walk.