of.

"I will think about it," Trar barked, his frozen eyes completely emotionless. He was pointed in his words. "Yes, I will think on it, Nacht, but you shall not have her until I say... and you and I both know you cannot take her." Every word was deliberate.

Nacht did not show how he froze suddenly. The two both knew what the Overlord spoke of.

Campion, Birch, and Herla

"So are you interested?" Campion looked at the stoic buck next to him. Herla was quite something else: Never had he met a buck with so little emotion. Even Birch showed his thoughts far more clearly, for he showed mild amusement and displeasure - Herla refused to do either, though Campion sensed an distinct depression. Something wasn't quite right for him, and the buck was very upset, but Campion was hesitant to say anything.

"Very," Herla said. "After all, your rangers will need to be at their best should the Overlord of my old herd come after us."

"What d'you mean? You escaped?" Asked Birch, bewildered.

"Yes," Herla said miserably. "I did. I only managed to because I've a very high poise there - if I'd stayed, I'm sure some Captain would have gotten himself killed and so I would be premoted to Captain myself."
"You had a good life, then?"
"Oh, of course!" Herla replied, looking slightly upset. "Any does I wanted. I chose the ones who rough bucks wanted - the ones who would end up abused and hurt. I never even mated with most of those does."
"You had a harem and didn't even feel inclined to breed?" Birch cried.

"No, not really," Herla shook his head. "I'm sure you understand, Campion?" He looked deliberately at the other.

"Yes, actually," Campion said. He seemed eager to get away from the topic. "Anyway, you left...?"

"I had to protect Faline's fawn," Herla told them. "If it is a doe, her father would kill it. If it is a buck..." Herla shuddered. "Loyal I may have been to Trar, but Nacht is only the most terrifying and sick buck I've ever seen."

As they approached the weeping willow and the meeting place, an odd thing happened.

Birch lunged forward, his head high. Under the willow stood a ten-point buck, with chocolatey colour, and most oddly, a messy tuft of white fur on his chest. He seemed very tired, and not at all threatening.

"Who are you? Identify yourself!" Birch barked.

"I'm Calemvir," said the buck, with a most slight, strange accent. "I want to join your herd."