Silence.

That was what frightened him for the stretching moments ahead. The buck had strong antlers. The rut flowed in his blood. He wanted to fight for the doe he wanted to protect.

And now, that doe was every doe.

But as time stretched, leaving him with nothing but air, soffocating, pure air, with nothing but tension, he could barely breath. He had to admit it now: He was terrified. But no, not for himself. He would be glad to die today if he would be assured his life would be exchanged for the others'. But no such guarantee could be found.

So he'd just have to survive or take down all the enemies with him that he could.

But as the scent of the enemy drew nearer, gradually, stomping, rearing of the head, snorting became more common. The tension was breaking.

We are prepared.

He realized every buck here felt just as he did: he wanted to protect the fawns and does. And that thought made the buck feel stronger. This was the rut. The greatest battle lay before him though.  He felt his head clear. Nothing would stop him now.

He was going to do everything in his power to protect the doe he absolutely lived for at this point.

Then the enemy came over the rise.

At their head, Trar, Nacht, and a buck that he couldn't see. So the buck did what any sensible one could.

With a great bark sounding, Birch reared, throwing his head back, and charged. He felt his allies surge around him. And that was when the world exploded.

Herla reared, charging, and threw a buck off his feet. He flipped the enemy over, but left him there. He wasn't a threat now. Herla had one target: Nacht. He reared up, trying to find the massive silver body.

Nothing.

But a buck charged into Herla's side, and stood over him as the fawn buck fell. Herla opened his blue eyes to find himself staring at Vervain. The buck had sickening hatred in his eyes. "I took it all, Herla," he snarled. "You took my place as captain, and I said not one word. You took does I wanted, and I said nothing. Then you betray us over a doe who isn't even your's? Herla, for that, I'll kill you." He reared, but Herla had already rolled over. He slammed into the other's stomach, throwing Vervain down.

"I could say the same," Herla responded coldly. "At least I have honorable resolve." Vervain had gotten up, and the two locked. Herla was more muscular. He could use this. He threw his head about, swinging his opponent about, making his own head spin. "I will not let you have any doe this year."

Huckleberry charged at the buck, goring his side brutally. The young buck - his name was Fleabane - fell down. Huckleberry ended the large buck who had caught him in the throat, turning. "Fleabane, up with you!" he yelled, anxious. The young six-pointer simply coughed up blood.

"Huckleberry," he said feebly, "I... I'm sorry. Tell my sister and mother I did my best."

"Don't give up just yet, boy," Huckleberry demanded. "You aren't dying today, and if you do, I've never seen a thing more honorable. It's bad, but... just get back to the clearing. I think you can make it." Fleabane nodded, standing and staggering. Huckleberry charged off, catching another buck he recognized from Trar's herd in the face - eye, if he hadn't been mistaken - before continuing his run. He stopped, seeing Herla over Vervain with a flash of resentment for the weasle-deer.  He then caught sight of Ronno struggling with two bucks, and charged about twenty yards straight into one of the two's neck.

Ronno reared back, slashing the buck's face. The buck swung, blinded by blood, at Ronno, but failed miserably before running off. "Thanks, Huckleverry," Ronno gasped.

"Nothing of it," Huckleberry responded before goring the other enemy in the side once more before allowing him to take off. He looked up, seeing the hawk.

"Hey!" he lighted down on Huckleberry's back. "You're pushing them back. You're near the ravine! Be careful - I don't see reinforcements anywhere, but I don't know if this is all they've got."

"Thanks," Huckleberry responded. The bird took off again.

Calemvir looked around. He wanted to find that third massive buck - he supposed it must be Braila. He finally spotted the monster. Not Nacht-size, but massive and long-bodied. Calemvir caught sight of a young buck having his skin flayed by the beast - he immediately recognized Rosehip's son. He was on the ground, and didn't appear to be moving. Rage filled Calemvir. Rosehip was still in agony over her mate. And now...

He swept over the moor, the distance between the monstrocity and himself seeming to die away in a moment. Calemvir's neck was jarred by the force with which he gored the buck, ripping his skin. Blood was welling at the wound immediatly, and Braila turned to Calemvir. No words described the look the buck had to his eyes. Colored, but almost appeared black with pure hate. He swung a blow at Calemvir, knocking the ten-point buck to the ground before rearing to kill him. Calemvir rolled three or four times to get out of the way, standing and slashing at the buck. He could not lock antlers. He would be killed if he did.

Braila tore at Calemvir's face, leaving a long stab in the bridge of his nose. Pain burned the breath out of Calemvir's lungs. He had to shake it off, but it took him several moments to regain his breath. He finally reared up, Braila meeting him. He felt the large beast beat at his chest, and Calemvir fought to keep his breath. He was finally beat to the ground, and felt Braila kneal, crushing Calemvir's neck with his leg as it folded. The white-chested buck fought for air, but his vision was going dark with asphynxiation and pain. The sillhouette of the huge buck loomed over him.

Then it was gone.

Calemvir gasped deeply, his lungs filling with wonderous air. He scrambled up, seeing Campion rearing, kicking, beating Braila with his hooves. "You dare come into my forest, threaten my does, threaten my friends!? You dare come in and you dare to try and kill one of my closest allies! I will have it that I will chew your pelt off for it!" His voice was filled with more rage than the rut could possibly muster in a buck. No, this was something else entirely. Calemvir struggled to go forward, rearing up and matching Campion's strikes. Braila roared in sheer anger, then turned, running. Campion charged after him. Calemvir figured the large buck could handle himself before turning and seeing that indeed, most of the fighting had receded away from the forest's edge.

He scanned the moor, charging to help Leaf.

Kaiser, gasping for air, turned about. A large buck was coming at him, and he turned to face him, bracing himself. The buck met him, and immediately started swinging his head. Kaiser felt the world whirl about him, and his legs buckling. How could he stand this? How could anyone?

No.

He tensed his muscles, allowing his head to go. Once it slowed, he forced forward, throwing the buck and turning him over. He reared up, prepared to end his life. The world seemed to slow around Kaiser.

He stumbled back, shaking his head. The buck stood, looking startled. "Just go," Kaiser rasped. "Just... go." The young buck turned away without a response, charging off to find another battle.

Herla fell. Vervain, though weasle-esque, was powerful. Vervain stood over him now, sneering down at the fawn-colored buck. "I think this year I've earned myself a nice doe. What was her name?" Herla flattened his ears, too tired even to stand. "Oh yes. That was it... Rora."

No. Rage surged through Herla, and he swung to his feet, rearing up and bringing his hooves down on Vervain's antlers, slamming him to the ground and shattering the crown. He reared again, crushing now his vile enemy's skull. "You will never have Rora," he whispered. "Never." He stood, suddenly energized. Now he had to find Nacht.

Kaiser looked around, desperately looking for his brother. Where was he? Then he saw the flash of the buck's black head. He sighed, turning, gasping. The buck before him was absolutely massive.

He had one - no, two antlers in the same spot. Silver fur with a black mask. There was only one animal this buck could be.

Nacht. "You must be my son," he growled. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally."

"I..." Skander stared at him. "You're going..."

"No, I'm not going to kill you," he sneered, rolling his eyes. Surely his son whasn't quite this much of a coward?

An idea was slowly forming in Skander's mind.

"I want to know who you are." Nacht continued. "So speak."

Maple huddled with Salvia, listening to the barking, the clashing, the sounds of war. "I can't stand this," she hissed. "My father's out there. What if Birch is dead? Or Skander or Kaiser?"
"I'm sure they're fine," Salvia assured her, but she appeared to be thinking about Bambi. She seemed worried.

Several moments passed before Maple's impulse got the best of her. Suddenly, she took off, charging down the run and shoving past the buck who was stationed in front of her tunnel. "Maple! Get back..." She ignored his fading voice as she charged toward the sound of battle.

The fighting was now precariously close to the ravine. Huckleberry's memory of death was distracting him.

No. No, he wouldn't let it. Death itself hated the bucks he was