A/N: For narrative purposes, all characters are to be imagined in their non-human, animal states. Meaning, they are basically telepathic animals and the author clearly doesn't know how she got to this point of her writing career but she did. That said, she's also written many other ridiculous things like talking burbs and islands in the sky and volleyball jock falling in love with strawberry boi. Hehe.
Anyway, I tried to make their behaviour as believable as I could, as far as animals go, but at the same time, because emotions and thoughts are highly attuned to their canon, human selves, there will be moments whereby they are so obviously not being animals :'D This will be split into two parts, so the next update of this will be up on the coming Wednesday (Not Thursday)! ^0^/ And the main plot will resume on Sunday instead.
For your reference, here's what a juvenile fallow deer looks like:
Here's what a juvenile lion looks like:
Enjoy this one. I like how I'm so familiar with writing about predators and prey. MY BURBS HAVE TRAINED ME WELL.
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Bored juvenile lion Leroy Cox had left his birth pride nearly six months ago with equally young and foolish friend Raul Dalto, whom he had formed a coalition with before starting on their journey to greatness. The pair and a few other juveniles who'd joined them along the way were currently rogues in an open grassland they knew not the name of, skirting the territory of another lion pride, which the two males had set their eyes on to challenge and hopefully defeat once they were slightly older and strong enough to claim the grassland territory.
Truthfully speaking, the lion did not consider his current situation to be in any way unfavourable or disappointing. At the very least, he wasn't a lone rogue struggling to obtain the sustenance he required. He'd always been a step ahead in every juvenile hunt and most adult lions from his birth pride, including his biological father, had acknowledged and placed their faith in him becoming a future alpha lion.
That did not quite interest Leroy. Survival was, to him, basic. Whether or not he'd end up being placed at the top of the food chain did not matter very much. At times, he'd catch his growing mane in the surface of a puddle and register the passing of time—entertaining the dreaded inevitability of death for a brief, transient moment before returning to the great bane of his existence: lion's boredom.
At present, the juvenile had been staring at his reflection in a vernal pond after an hour of light showers, presence concealed by tufts of tall grass surrounding the water source, waiting for an unsuspecting prey to cross his path. The sun, low over the horizon, hit the water at an angle, crimson flames and sapphire waves of the sunset meeting at the center of the sky, mirrored in the surface of the still, silent pond.
He wasn't hungry. That much, Leroy knew. The entire purpose of sitting in the grass by some harmless water source had to do with the rock of boredom in his head and the juvenile's lazy attempt to rid of it. The least he could do was to hunt; but as predators like him often found themselves enjoying, toying with prey had become a certain hobby of his as of recent. Just something he'd found sufficiently amusing to pass time.
Waiting. Animals had not a sense of time that deviated far from 'an instant' or a time to feed, time to wake, time to sleep. At present, he was at 'time to play' but as he'd come to understand, most prey were not as active as he was at night. Now, sundown, was the perfect time for a harmless thing to cross his path, gracing him with fresh entertainment in the form of a quiet trod.
And there it was.
He picked it up at once—the sound of a lithe, nimble prey making its way to what they thought was a harmless source of water. Through the undergrowth, the lion caught a glimpse of what he could instantly dub as the most stunning coat he'd ever seen. It belonged to a male fallow deer.
The stag's coat was a pristine shade between whipped cream and fresh snow; spotless from what he could observe, and a juvenile like himself with single spike antlers in their third stage of growth rising gracefully above his ears in the shape of a 'V'. Several other small tines branched out from his main beam, topped by a tiny crown on each side.
This prey was no albino. A single glance at his eyes made them out to be shade of deep, dark water of the sea at night. Needless to say, Leroy had never seen a coat so flawlessly pale, let alone a leucistic deer.
He was alone. That itself was enough to spark some decent curiosity.
The lion observed an elegant, lowered neck and a small tongue lapping at the fresh rainwater—serene and unguarded—a somewhat perfect opportunity to strike and yet, perhaps just to toy with him a little longer or some other reason he did not wish to acknowledge, kept his instincts at bay.
Further, the deer was on the opposite side of the vernal pool, which meant that he as the predator, would have close the distance without attracting the attention of his prey. A juvenile. No mother. No herd.
Then, all of a sudden, his instincts were on fire. The burst of flames in alert was a reaction to the territory's herd of lionesses out on a hunt, nearing at a speed he knew was no leisure walk in a park. He could make out two or three, all headed in the direction of the vernal pond, closing in on the fallow stag. Unlike male lions who preferred to hunt alone, females tended to hunt cooperatively; and the ones closing the distance belonged to the pride he and Raul had had their eyes on.
While Leroy had indeed found it a fair pity to be bidding a deer as beautiful and stunning as the one he'd had his eyes on an early goodbye, he felt it did make sense to prioritize analyzing a rival pride's hunting techniques and at the same time, assess the strength of their females. Just in case he were to end up claiming their pride. And so he waited.
The next couple of seconds had the fallow deer raising his gaze from the surface of the water, tiny ears twitching before returning to his task at hand... and then looking up, again, head turned curiously left and right in small increments before again, lowering back down to the—burst of unknown energy, slender legs springing into action and bolting to the right of the pond with its predator, an adult lioness, sprinting after him in the very same direction. But as quickly as the prey had started into fleeing, it watched the movements of its immediate predator and sidestepped in a leap, seconds into the chase, in the opposite direction of the lioness' incredible momentum and began its escape on an advantage of speed.
Leroy watched the second and third lioness arrive a second too late in the wrongly-anticipated direction of the deer's escape, having attempted a two-way ambush that would've taken down any other target, for sure. The group of females ended up having to chase down the fallow deer but, as far as Leroy could tell, were at a distance he thought quite impossible to catch up considering the speed at which the deer had bolted away. He'd also had the advantage of momentum.
For quite a while, the juvenile lion sat in the exact same position, among the tall grass, staring at his reflection in the vernal pond, wondering if whatever he'd just witnessed had in fact been the workings of an otherworldly daydream. Needless to say, he was in awe.
As far as he knew, the white fallow stag, a juvenile like himself, had duped its predators into thinking it had its guard lowered before practically prancing away, effortlessly sidestepping the first lioness' attack and foiling the entire ambush with a single trick—a fake. Not to mention the look in his eye; not a sign of fear. Sophisticated and calm... almost superior in the face of a predator.
He'd heard of deer intelligence in some form or another but this one... this one drew him in with its flawless cunning. How the smart cookie was a juvenile like himself, Leroy found extremely hard to believe. Camping out in a spot like this had little to do with hunger and nothing to do with a meal but now, now his appetite was whet for a challenge—a being of unmatched strength, set apart from the rest of deer-kind. Well, at least among the deer he'd encountered.
Thus, eager to witness the magic of a graceful snowflake once more, the juvenile lion made his return to the same vernal pond the very next day in hopes of having yet another one of those otherworldly daydreams.
He'd trekked through the grass for some time, keeping his head lowered long before even arriving at the pond and thank goodness he did; the fallow deer would've spotted him right away had he not done so. Somewhere between shades of whipped cream and fresh snow, the stag had a scent that was mildly sweet. Not overly. Just the right amount, as he lapped at the water before, quite suddenly, glancing up and directly at him—meeting his gaze.
Uncharacteristically bewildered, Leroy had frozen in place. He hadn't expected the prey to notice him. The sound of his footsteps were padded by the undergrowth and he'd been slow enough to avoid an all-too-obvious rustling of grass. He stopped and stared; certain this was the moment he'd be watching him flee. But the juvenile deer soon returned his attention to the source of water he had been busying himself with, quite as though he'd deemed the lion nothing more than harmless after a quick deduction.
Mildly offended but with an overriding curiosity practically in flames, the lion tested the waters by stalking the edge of the pond. His companion did not stir—nor did he even spare the former a glance. Coming to a stop at the other end of the vernal pool, directly across the deer, he leaned down to mirror his movements, lapping at the same water source. Keeping his on the other.
"And how long will you continue to merely look my way?"
The voice in his head possessed the kind of clarity he could almost see—translucent, clear, and soothing in nature like ripples on the surface. Straightening up, Leroy did not quite know what to make of his first attempt at a conversation with an animal beyond his own species. Let alone, natural prey.
"You knew?"
The white fallow stag did not stir, taking his time to quench his thirst. "Birds don't like you very much, if you haven't noticed. They fly in the opposite direction. There was the rain, too. It expanded this pool of water into the tall grass on the other end and yet, the water level remains uneven though the land is flat. Therefore, there must be something else in there offsetting the balance, which, by process of elimination, led to conclude the presence of a predator on that end of the pond. Though, judging by the mere slight altercation of the parting among the grass, I'd assumed it was something small. A juvenile. Like myself. One would easily arrive at the conclusion that you were no wolf or hyena—they hunt in packs—and the leopards and cheetahs aren't till miles down south since the humans nearby don't quite like them very much, so the only other lone hunting predator would most likely be a male lion."
Cute white deer was a talker and Leroy was not disappointed. Indeed, he had been right about him. "You were challenging me."
"Perhaps," said the one who looked quite as though he was made of snow. "Well I certainly would have made a fool of you, Mr. Lion, if you'd come after me yesterday."
The candle in his eyes sparked a sign of amusement. "Think you already did."
It was at this that the deer peered up from his reflection in the water, meeting the lion's gaze with a blink—surprised by his response. An honest, genuine pride that had nothing to do with selfish egoism. Rare, for lions.
"And... how so?"
Leroy knew the answer he was on the verge of giving was dangerous wandering into foreign waters, deep and dark. It wasn't everyday that lions were enchanted by their prey and perhaps giving away a little too much information wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do in a world that functioned solely on a Pyramid.
"Alone?" He asked the deer, who had turned his attention to the herbs and flowers by the pond.
"Yes. I am alone," clarified his companion, rather indifferently. "I was separated from my herd. As far as I can remember, it was during the nursing period, a week or two after my birth. Mothers return to their hiding fawns only to feed them, just in case you're unaware. We spend most of our first weeks in solitary hiding and, well, one day, I suppose, my mother stopped coming back."
The lion was not used to hearing such passivity and objectiveness in an otherwise emotional context, especially from a non-cold-blooded animal like a deer. "Why?"
"Well she must have died," reasoned his companion matter-of-factly, taking particular interest in a small white flower by a nearby tree. A dandelion. "That is the natural way of things. She wouldn't have left me alone for any other reason.
"And you Mr. Lion?" He went on. "I suppose you've left your pride for independence and currently have your eyes on this territory. Hardly a challenge. They can be rather foolish."
The lion found himself increasingly drawn towards the deer, unconsciously leaning, inching his way. It was the strangest proximity he'd ever experienced between him and what would've been prey.
"Leroy."
"Sorry?"
"That's my name."
"Oh. Well. Alright." They paused. One, waiting. The other, hesitant. "I... think your name is, well. It's befitting of a lion, that is certain. It goes well."
"Yours doesn't?" He waited still.
The white fallow stag seemed to sigh. "I think it quite the opposite... I would prefer not to reveal matters as personal as names."
"So what do I call you?"
"Deer would suffice." The juvenile stag appeared fairly relieved by the lion's flexibility.
"Dear?"
"Yes. Deer."
"... mating season isn't till next month but okay."
*
If deer could blush, Vanilla Julian White was a blushing deer with an unfortunate coat pale enough for the colour to show up on his cheeks and the tips of his tiny ears. He'd never once felt the heat of an emotion termed embarrassment and experiencing it made him oddly restless, as a certain idiot lion seemed to be quite capable of doing, unbeknownst to the predator himself.
Their little escapade with homophones (deer and dear) had left him quite infuriated indeed and and and, w-well, uncharacteristically flustered. He was quick to declare his obligation to return to shelter at the setting of the sun, before the sky turned dark. The juvenile lion had posed the reasonable, yet wildly dangerous question regarding the whereabouts of Vanilla's living space.
"And allow myself to be your very next meal?" He'd quipped. "I think not." And so he left the vernal pond, trotting lithely past the trees and disappearing into a parted bush.
It had not been his intention to find out where, exactly, the deer sought shelter without a herd or an apparent place of comfort. There were no private spaces nearby unoccupied by predators—wolves and hyenas being the main threat to small ones like the figure of snow—and the time was minutes to nightfall, making getting home safely an unbelievably miraculous feat. The lion wasn't exactly worried or concerned, per se. After all, he did acknowledge the sheer tenacity of his companion's cunning intellect.
Yet, in the absence of light and at a severe disadvantage to nocturnal predators in every physical sense, he needed to ensure that the amusement he found in conversations with the snowy creature would continue.
And so he tailed him; keeping his distance and ensuring himself sufficiently out of the picture but close enough to jump in should the situation require him to. Rocky terrains and into a forest that was certainly beyond the lion's familiar territory, the deer finally arrived at what appeared to be a cave. He slipped inside, leaving behind the chill of the night and along with it, an uncharacteristically besotted predator.
Relieved, Leroy was about to make his way back to the rogue's den when he felt the burn of his instincts light a fire in his legs—the howl of a wolf on watch. A warning call; one that communicated their location to other pack members who would, very soon, be on their way to ward off what they'd thought were enemies. It sounded close. Very close. He had made the mistake of unconsciously wandering into the territory of an established wolf pack, completely blindsided by the fact that he'd been following a harmless deer.
The juvenile did not waste another second in removing himself from the territory he had unintentionally provoked and yet, a state of confusion seized his thoughts as he ran, having wandered a little too close to that cave... where the howling seemed to be coming from.
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A/N: Eep sorry I had to split it into two! It became a little longer than I expected and I'm not done with the second part just yet.
The title of this chapter is part of the lyrics of 'Lost Stars' by Adam Levine. Years ago, when I first heard the song, I found the phrase incredibly moving. It invokes the same miraculous quality of a dragon being friends with a butterfly and you know me, I love my nature-defying, rule-breaking, god-defying characters. Their god, being, well, me of course.