Twitterpated (Bambi x Ronno)

Chapter 3- Forest's Edge

Sulking through the dark shadows of the trees, Ronno trudged along with an exasperated expression. The smallest sound of the forest threatened to make him snap, be it a gentle bird it the rustle of a tree. A gaping hole lay pit in his gut, bottomless as he swallowed down his rage. A part of him wanted to shove his antlers into a tree and tear out whatever he could, only suppressed by the need to keep low.

Grumbling profane nonsense under his breath, he shot a glare at whatever critter watched him from behind the flowers and bushes. He walked silently until he arrived at his destination: a dug-out den hidden in the ground. It was carefully excavated in a patch of dirt under an obscuring plant, providing enough room for a small animal to hide inside.

"Home sweet home," he chuckled, trying to lighten his own mood.

The inside of the den was comfortable but rather tight-fitting, forcing Ronno to squat as he climbed inside awkwardly. "I could've dug this if I had better help," the fawn mused to himself, then grimaced, "as if anyone would help me to begin with." Smells of dirt and worms would've been heaven for a bird, although the hiding deer only twisted his nose at the stench. The air was cold, seizing the absence of sunlight to lower the temperature to a chill. A shiver scampering up his skin, Ronno contorted himself tightly to conserve warmth. Folding his legs in and squatting down on the soft floor, he nosed a small pile of dirt to expose a stash of grass and plants. "And this should hold me for..." he did a quick calculation in his head, "...maybe a little while if I let myself starve for a bit."

Prideful of his secret hideout, Ronno smirked to himself, a congratulatory pat on the back for his cunningness. The grin faded shorter after, as the glaring flaws of the den began to rear their heads. Loose dirt fell from the ceiling and landed on his head, and the presence of earthworms was not enticing. Ignoring the negative aspects, Ronno rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, "just a day. Just need to hide for a day, then I can go back and everything will be fine again."

His ears bounced a little, tuning themselves in a search for sound in the silent den. Outside the muffled wind flowed through the tree branches, but it was little to break the ear-splitting quiet. Absently, he began clicking his tongue, producing faint sounds from his muzzle to ease the boredom. Tossing and turning slightly, Ronno let out a bored sigh as he slumped over. His body begged for a run, energy flowing through his muscles struggling for an outlet, yet still he was forced to remain in place. "Uugh!" He rolled onto his back again, "I couldn't have dug out a running tunnel into this thing?" The idea of an underground running track was quite grand, yet Ronno had truly no idea how he'd ever get such a thing.

He zoned out for a moment, letting his mind whisk away into a daydream about sprinting through a field. Sitting still for a solid while, the call of an overhead bird suddenly snapped him back to reality with a light jump. Instinctively, Ronno turned his head to the left, looking for his mother in the direction he knew she slept in. Upon seeing nothing he quickly remembered where he was, ears drooping in disappointment. This was usually the part where he crept over to her and laid down against her stomach, eager for the comfort of his mother while he slept. Only she wasn't here, and Ronno felt himself becoming much more alone than he had once felt.

"Wish I had someone to talk to." He sighed, letting one leg cross over the other. It was only then he realized what had just left his mouth, quickly bringing an aftertaste of shame that he would ever think such a thing. Pushing the thought away, Ronno sat firmly and took a deep breath, reminding himself repeatedly that the animals of the forest hated him.

"But everyone loves Bambi," he hissed, drawing a line in the dirt with his hoof, "the poster fawn of the Great Prince." Venom dripped off his tongue as his mind thought back to the younger deer. "Being loved must feel nice, wish I could tear those pretty little ears off," he spat violently. A dark cloud of malicious thoughts churned in his head, granting him vile daydreams of getting one up on the confounded prince. "Then maybe I could be the prince, and everyone would love me too." His voice broke gently, and for once he was never happier to be alone.