It was just before dawn in the forest. The land was anticipating the sun to warm it, silently waiting with thick impatience. Birds had yet to break into song, although they did flap noisily between the tree tops. The sound was rather abrupt, almost rudely breaking the deafening silence that echoed in a pair of white ears.

Calm, cool, and steady against the anticipation, a stag stood atop the edge of a Birch Forest cliff. His eyes were closed, body rigid to stay on its pillars. The black and white being appeared almost regal, his antlers rising in a stark ivory crown rimmed with spikes. He too could feel the anticipation ticking the edges of the air, although he did not let it inside his mind. This was Moss' morning meditation, and he wouldn't let anything in that he didn't want.

Almost as if hungered for the stag, the light on the horizon began to rapidly edge toward him. It covered ground at an alarming rate, reaching to lap at the beast's fur within moments. Still, the stag remained unmoving on the outside. Inside, he drank in the warmth to slake his body's aches and pains that thirsted for it. He let his already warm heart beat with it, his pictogram flooding with light. This morning a conversion had begun, though nobody noticed.

Birdsong started like a leak of water: a dripping single note, to a trickle, to a slow and steady flow. The song flowed into Moss' ears and flooded him with a happiness that only it could give. In his mind's eye he could imagine each feather, color, and shape of those that sang the beautiful chorus. Outwardly, he smiled. A tingle had spread over his entire body, causing hair to stand on end and make him appear larger. The risen hairs allowed more morning light to reach his skin, warming even more what once was cold with the end of the night.

Finally, the being sighed and opened his eyes. A flash of light again momentarily blinded him, followed by children's laughter.