She was a wild thing, with wild hair and wild eyes and a wild personality that meant she was skipping to and fro with all of the energy of a much younger doe, skittering over rocks and nearly sliding headfirst into the nearby stream.
Not that she was particularly old herself, but it had been a while since she had gotten out, Fierce assumed, because she was scrambling back up the slanted, muddy riverbank with a single-minded determination that was, in Fierce's mind, actually quite impressive. He'd had to use his tail to scramble up (and even then he had barely made it, the uneven, unsteady ground below threatening to give way with every step) and now he stood at the top, drenched in mud and dirt and looking rather worse for the wear.
Trick or Treat was humming to herself. It sounded a bit like a lullaby, except that the lyrics were somewhat foul and made Fierce inwardly glad that none of his younger children were around to repeat any of the words. He gave the doe an exasperated look, which she ignored, instead galloping up the remaining distance and shaking herself violently at his side. Muddy water sprayed over the bridge of his nose and flank, and Fierce took several hasty steps away, making a sound of protest as he did so.
"Keep that up, and you're not going to get any blessing from me after all," he said, somewhat pointedly. Trick or Treat grinned back at him, bright, wide thing that showed all of her teeth, and then she leaned against him, side to side, rubbing more mud into his skin.
"You're just mad that I beat you," she crowed, even as Fierce made another noise of exasperation. At his hooves, Sharp Eyes was looking startled, peering curiously at his newly acquired coat of sloppy mud. Her pointed wolf's nose gave a little twitch of disgust at the smell, and Fierce sighed.
"That's not what I - " he started, and then gave up with a roll of his eyes. "All right, all right. You and your lovely doe friend will be blessed with a lovely clutch and both of you will be lovely parents. Your children will know how to have fun, and how to be safe and also be blessed with the spirit of excitement."
"That's the spirit," said Trick or Treat and cackled as Fierce swung his tail towards her, a halfhearted attempt to swat her, as she danced away, crowing. Her tangled black hair had acquired, not mud like Fierce, but several broken twigs in varying shapes and sizes, as well as a few leaves in shades of red, orange, yellow and green. Her eyes were bright with delight and the excitement of a beautiful, cloudless morning that sent a cool, crisp breeze along their legs and the scent of fall.
"You really are a pain in my behind," Fierce muttered as he started to follow after her.
(But he was smiling, just a little.)
Not that she was particularly old herself, but it had been a while since she had gotten out, Fierce assumed, because she was scrambling back up the slanted, muddy riverbank with a single-minded determination that was, in Fierce's mind, actually quite impressive. He'd had to use his tail to scramble up (and even then he had barely made it, the uneven, unsteady ground below threatening to give way with every step) and now he stood at the top, drenched in mud and dirt and looking rather worse for the wear.
Trick or Treat was humming to herself. It sounded a bit like a lullaby, except that the lyrics were somewhat foul and made Fierce inwardly glad that none of his younger children were around to repeat any of the words. He gave the doe an exasperated look, which she ignored, instead galloping up the remaining distance and shaking herself violently at his side. Muddy water sprayed over the bridge of his nose and flank, and Fierce took several hasty steps away, making a sound of protest as he did so.
"Keep that up, and you're not going to get any blessing from me after all," he said, somewhat pointedly. Trick or Treat grinned back at him, bright, wide thing that showed all of her teeth, and then she leaned against him, side to side, rubbing more mud into his skin.
"You're just mad that I beat you," she crowed, even as Fierce made another noise of exasperation. At his hooves, Sharp Eyes was looking startled, peering curiously at his newly acquired coat of sloppy mud. Her pointed wolf's nose gave a little twitch of disgust at the smell, and Fierce sighed.
"That's not what I - " he started, and then gave up with a roll of his eyes. "All right, all right. You and your lovely doe friend will be blessed with a lovely clutch and both of you will be lovely parents. Your children will know how to have fun, and how to be safe and also be blessed with the spirit of excitement."
"That's the spirit," said Trick or Treat and cackled as Fierce swung his tail towards her, a halfhearted attempt to swat her, as she danced away, crowing. Her tangled black hair had acquired, not mud like Fierce, but several broken twigs in varying shapes and sizes, as well as a few leaves in shades of red, orange, yellow and green. Her eyes were bright with delight and the excitement of a beautiful, cloudless morning that sent a cool, crisp breeze along their legs and the scent of fall.
"You really are a pain in my behind," Fierce muttered as he started to follow after her.
(But he was smiling, just a little.)