Bambi took a step back, staring at Ronno. The red buck stepped forward, head down. "Where did this come from?" Bambi asked coldly, suddenly remembering the rut - this same thing, with Birch. Ronno wasn't his friend here.

"Sorry, Bambi. I want Faline, and after going through so much, I feel like we're meant to be. After her escape, after my... Event... which led to me getting here. You don't come back from the things we went through together." He told the prince, narrowing his green eyes. Bambi looked over the buck's shoulder to Faline, who backed up with flattened ears. He saw that she looked conflicted, and that caused the prince's stomach to lurch.

In his childhood, never had he imagined that the beautiful doe would ever feel conflicted on a buck between himself and Ronno.

"I will have her," Bambi told Ronno, narrowing his eyes. Almost immediately, the red buck charged, and the two locked antlers. For several long moments, all was at a stand-still and both bucks forcefully pushed against one another, but neither budged.

Soon, Bambi's feet slid on a patch of loose sand and Ronno forced forward, rushing and pushing Bambi back several feet while he tried to get his footing. He finally did, and shook his head feircely, pressing back. He flexed the powerful muscles in his neck, but budging was difficult. In the past, Bambi had wondered what a rutting battle between himself and Ronno would be like. A stalemate was not what he pictured. He relaxed for a heartbeat, and felt Ronno push forward again. Bambi plunged into him, running into the enemy with full force. He felt Ronno give in front of him, and forced Ronno back, then, throwing his head, threw the other buck on his side.

Ronno leaped up, slamming into Bambi and slashing his side. Bambi fell, rolling out from under Ronno as he reared up. His feet fell on empty dirt. Bambi got to his feet, charging Ronno again and locking. He suddenly realized the two of them were both well over ten points, likely twelve, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He was not interested in size or number right now. He shook his head violently, the loud clatter of bone against bone ringing in his ears and making his head spin. Ronno was giving now, and Bambi ran forward, feeling the opponent slide in front of him. He suddenly remembered something he had seen Herla do once, and copied it: Bambi suddenly jerked his head, turning around Ronno as sharply as he could, swinging Ronno with him. He felt his antler hook on Ronno's, and their faces were close enough to peer eye-to-eye.

The two bucks both froze suddenly, stomachs heaving in air. Then, Bambi shook his head again, and Ronno, released, bounded off.

Bambi rose his head, every muscle aching. He then walked over to Faline. "Congratulations, Bambi," she said breathlessly, obviously released from some kind of stress.
Bambi nodded. "Thank you."

Gobo bounded over to Ronno, shaking his eight point antlers. They were strong and sturdy, thick. "Tough luck," he told the mahogany male. Ronno snorted.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever." He scowled, but Gobo just shrugged. He knew Ronno well, and the cold shoulder didn't bother him. "Anyway," he said, shaking his head, "I'm going down by the stream. Rosehip's with her sister there," he pointed his nose toward the small valley, under the willow tree. Next to the deep-cut course of water, two does stood together with a few others - one an orangish shade, with cut hips, the other pale and desaturated in color. Ronno bounded off at a fairly slow pace - Gobo could tell he was utterly exhausted.
 

--

Herla sighed, staring up at the sky. It was gray, cold, cruel in its own way. He didn't understand why, but he felt bitterly unhappy. He missed the feelings of total freedom, he realized. He always knew from the moment the war began things wouldn't be well for quite some time. Yet, he didn't realize there'd be such a painful, heartless battle to survive at this level. He sat at the edge of the woods, staring into the moorland sky, the inconsiderate wind buffeting his face and sides. He laid there, wondering - how could any animal possibly be so cold as Nacht? As Trar had been?

Even Herla had been forced into sheer apathy in all this.

There was a prickling sensation just then, and his ears went up, and he tensed, looking around. "Relax." The single, blunt word assured Herla the feeling was caused by none other than the mountain cat - Korin.

He nodded. "You know how deer are," he told her as she laid down nearby. "Why'd you come out here?"
"Thought you seemed a bit odd off when you left." She flicked an ear. "Something wrong?"
"Usually I would be fine during this weather," He told her quietly. "I didn't used to mind the cold. But... Now I don't want to rut. I feel the wind differently than I used to." Herla shook his light tan head.

"The woods are different here."

He shook his head again. "Not that. It's everything else." She frowned, looking uncomprehensive. Herla pressed on, concerned slightly that she wouldn't fully grasp his feelings. "I... I used to not only know the deer from the old forest, but... I cared about them. Now I can't. But I miss them. And now I'm pitted against them, I have to fight them, even... Even kill them. It's not... not natural. It's not like deer, this war..." He trailed off, turning his head back to Korin hopefully.

She simply nodded. There was a long silence, in which he turned back to watching the grass, with no noise but the howl of the ghostly wind. Then Korin spoke - quietly, but with hidden feeling. "I know." He looked up, surprised. But she offered no more - she stood up, shaking herself. "I understand that it must hurt, Herla. I think you're the only deer I really understand. You don't seem like the others to me. All I can say is that I don't think there's much left to this war. You'll be free soon. I promise."