An Early Exploit - Fawnling Literature Bid (WON!)

   Grian rose tiredly over the hill, exhausted from another night of endlessly searching for her sister.  Silence lay thick upon the forests of Silverthorne, dew shimmering at the touch of the deity’s light.  Slowly…slowly…she padded higher into the sky, the joy of seeing the world below rejuvenating her.  The sky dwelling forms of birds flitted across her path, stretching their wings as they began to call out hushed little tones.  Insects, flitting their wings and twitching their antennas, warmed up for the day.  Spring was upon the forest.

   The grey shroud of sleep still encompassed the hollow, encasing all of its inhabitants in a languid embrace.  All of its inhabitants…save one.  Serroya had planned very carefully for this moment.  She had seen how the newborn fawns would take naps at midday, making them often rise in the night for feeding.  She had watched as the mothers blearily nudged their young to their sides under the moonlight, laboriously holding their drooping eyes open to guard as their children fed.  She had heard their deepened, dream-infused breaths after mother and fawn settled down after the tiresome ritual.  Sleeping early meant waking early, and after quietly resting the day before, Serroya was now the earliest of the herd awake.

   Oh so carefully, she made her way from her mother’s side, hoping beyond hope that Adhar would smile upon her quest and keep the doe from waking.  After what seemed like an age, the flame-colored fawn had successfully reached the edge of the clearing.  Serroya paused then, ears pricked and eyes roaming slowly over the listless forms of her father’s harem and their fawns.  None stirred. 

   Stifling a delighted squeal, she slipped into the bushes and made her way away from the group.  She would have herself the adventure of a lifetime.  Every evening, her mother would tell her of the two sisters; so different, yet so in love.  Grian and Luan…the sun and moon…always searching, never finding.  Well today, that was going to change.

   Serroya raced through the forest, little lungs rasping a sharp beat as her hooves danced a colorful rhythm through the budding grass and flowers.  Dodging, turning, leaping, running, eyes locked and jaw set in a determined gaze that blocked out all that was unimportant.  Grian sat upon the hilltop, her glowing orange form so brilliant it could only be seen as a ball of fire.  The yearling pinned her ears back and lengthened her stride, clambering up the steep, brush ridden slope.  She had to tell her!  She had to make it before Grian rose to walk the sky.

   The goddess stood, her fiery form just barely touching upon the soil.  Her ascent would begin soon.   The fawns eyes widened in desperation.

   “Wait!” she cried, a tinge of desperation shadowing her voice.  Serroya scowled at the weak sound.  A goddess would not appreciate a groveler.

   “Wait, Grian,” Serroya called with a bolder tone, her eyes narrowing with resolve, “I have a message for you!”

   Panting, she drove past a small clearing surrounded by boulders, “I know how to find your sister!”

   Bursting out of the clearing, she stopped dead at the immense  panorama before her.  The whole of Silverthorne seemed of spread out at her feet, and she seemed to imagine seeing Sky Lake far in the distance.  But that was not what held her gaze.  Moments before she had burst onto the precipice, the goddess had leaped from the cliff and into the horizon, preparing for her days duty of lighting the world. 

   Serroya was frozen in rapture, before sucking in a deep breath.

   “Grian!  Did you hear me?” she bellowed into the expanse, “I know how to find your sister!”

   On the horizon, the sun was seemed still, and in her minds eye, Serroya had been granted an audience.  “If you wait on the horizon at nightfall a little longer, you’ll see her on the other horizon,” she explained loudly, a smile of satisfaction spreading over her muzzle, “Then you can talk to each other, before you go to bed!”

   The sun was silent as Serroya stood poised, waiting for a reply.  But none came, and the goddess turned from her young admirer and began to slowly rise into the sky.  Serroya’s ears drooped, dejected as Grian assumed her heavenly duties.  The little fawn turned and walked slowly back the way she had come, hooves barely lifting off the ground as she dragged her tail behind her.  Sitting down with a heavy thump amongst the boulders, she lowered her sorrow-laden head and sighed.  It was cold in the shadows…cold to be hidden from the grace of a goddess.

   The world shrunk in around her, blocking out all save herself and her miserable failure.  What had she done wrong?  An odd tickling sensation tingled over her skull, but she ignored it.  She could not ignore, however, the large footfalls she heard ahead of her, and she lifted her head to behold the form of a noble stag.  He looked at her with great concern.

   “Serroya, what have we told you about wandering off on your own?”

   “I’m sorry, father,” she replied meekly to the chastisement, before lapsing into silence.

   Doristay flicked an ear in surprise.  Normally, such an accusation would be met with a litany of yearling logic explaining her actions.  The quiet that he often wished for was now very disturbing.  He padded closer.

   “What is wrong, young one?”

   “I brought a message to Grian, but she rose into the sky, and she didn’t seem happy about my news at all.”

   His ears pricked curiously, “What message?”

   “I told her that she could see her sister if she stayed up at night, like I do sometimes,” Serroya replied, not bothering to deny some of her naughty nighttime antics.

   A silence fell between them then, as the stag eyeing her as he wondered at how to cheer the fawn.  She pawed at the ground absently, noticing the tickling sensation from before had spread down her neck to the top of her shoulders.  Suddenly, Doristay grinned broadly, and stamped a hoof.

   “Stand up,” he commanded, offering no explanation.

   She obeyed, knowing that asking why would bear no fruit when he used that tone.  The odd feeling spread across her hide, and her ears flew forward in surprise.  What was going on?!

   With a knowing smile, her father lowered his head and murmured gently, “Look at yourself.”

   Peeping over her shoulder, Serroya gasped in awe.  Her belt was burning!  Brighter than the dew drops!  Brighter than fire!  Brighter than…

   She whirled around to see Grian, the sun goddess, perched in the sky above the boulder she’d been sitting by, smiling vibrantly down at her as beams of light shone from her golden pelt.  The fawn’s auburn cloak shone with the goddess’ pleasure, and Serroya could only stare open mouthed at the transformation as the sunlight seeped into her flesh.  Suddenly, despite the indignity, the yearling burst into squealing and ran cavorting around the stone ringed glade.

   “She’s happy, she’s happy, she’s happy!  Yay!”

   She rushed to her fathers side, dancing.

   “Father, father did you see,” she gushed, quite forgetting it was he who revealed the occurrence, “Grian was pleased with me!”

   “So she was,” the stag rumbled with a pleasant smile, “You know who else might be pleased with you?”

   The fawn’s eyes lit up excitedly and she quivered.  “Who?”

   “Your mother.  Would you like to go tell her?”

   “Oh yes!  That’s a great idea!  Come on father, let’s go tell her!”

   Quick as a fox, Serroya was plunging down the grassy hillside, and Doristay shook his mane before bounding after her in stately leaps.  It was always better to let Serroya think something was her own idea.

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   Seetari sighed.  Despite her infinite patience with her fawn, part of her wished she would settle down for the night and stop gushing about her morning adventure…in a way, embarrassed at her own lack of vigilance over her fawn.  She had woken in a panic when she realized Serroya had vanished, and then waited frantically for her mate to return, hopefully, with her wayward daughter in tow.  It had not been easy…in fact, she was almost certain the frenzy had removed a year from her life.

   “And then, Grian smile at me and lit my fur on fire,” Serroya reiterated for the fiftieth time, “Only it was a nice fire, to show how happy she was.  It didn’t hurt me at all.”

   “That’s because you’re a Silverthorne, my dear,” Seetari gently explained, “The flames do not harm us because they know we are akin to them through Grian.”

   Serroya paused thoughtfully, pondering the statement as her mother reveled in the temporary peace.  The next question caught her off guard with its quiet manner.

   “Do you think…Grian will take my advice?”

   Seetari’s mind froze in terror, and she cursed the earlier cleverness of her mate.  How could she explain to the fawn that the sun would not linger on the horizon, but plunged into the earth and leave it to the night.

   Her daughter looked up at her expectantly, and she couldn’t help but take a nervous step back.

      “Well…” she hedged, her mind raced feverishly for an answer.  Then she saw her answer, and her face lit up before she cryptically stated, “I believe that she already has.”