Deer adoptables -; hiatus

[ɾïṿεṉḋεll]

I don't think you can't, because I recall at the beggining of the contest, I think Paper told us we could have one. I think we'll have to check the front to be sure.

~TMM

[Desmond]

Watching. Waiting. Searching. Breaking.

I am the shadow staring over the valley ridge, waiting for the return of my family. They abandoned me, disappearing when I needed them most. The predators are gone, replaced by these silly aliens with their shiny steeds, far larger than any horse faunakind has ever seen. The trees are replaced by stone and glass monoliths... dead and hollow inside, perfect for only these creatures. They fear me. There is a legend that I am a vengeful spirit.

I am lost. Only... lost.

I search for traces of my home and find nothing. Concrete has replaced the groves and the woods. The river is fouled... I find elsewhere to drink. There is no use being poisoned... though, if I die, I may no longer have to keep looking. I have wondered if my family is dead already, killed by those shiny, multicolored steeds. I sometimes wonder if I should take a flying leap before one... just to end my misery. But I have faith, and I have hope, and it is enough to keep me going for one more day... one more day...

One more day.

I sometimes wonder, as well, whether I am going insane, waiting and watching and searching for something that may be far out of my reach. Then I wonder whether I already am. I have, once, concluded that I don't know if I am insane, and I don't particularly care to know, either, because if I knew, it would only make me lose my mind. And so I continue watching. Waiting. Searching. Until I find what I seek, I will continue.

In legends, I am the unhappy native spirit of the winds and nature, Halu'u. But that is not my identity. It's not me.

I am Tak'kian. And I am trying to find my way back home.

[LostGosling]

Lol, yeah I remember Paper saying that too Maurader, that's why I wanted to make sure before I tryed to write something. I tend to be long winded. X3 It says in the rules one deer a week, and then for the advent rules 1 per person, so darn to us both fluttershy;;. xD I love Flicker to pieces, and there are still several adventless people left who really deserve one, so I guess it's for the best. Good luck everybody! :3

[kes.]

Yeah, I suppose so... x3 I do see now that it says we can't get more than one deer. Oh well, and yes, good luck ^.^;

[Bast-et]

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Username: ~Bast~

Deer Name: Raghnall- meaning wise and powerful
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Through the winter boreal forests Raghnall strode. In his tracks the snow melted and spring grass rose in thick green shoots. Behind him followed a hundred-thousand more caribou as he led the way back to spring pastures. His step was sure and the beat of innumerable hooves against the frozen ground pulsed in time with his heart. Sodden snow fell from tree branches as he walked beneath them, and that remaining was shook down by his mighty antlers. He was everywhere and no where, he was the spirit of the migration, he was the composite of every one of the creatures behind him. He was the collective memory of every caribou that had ever lived, and he guided them with a love a strong as a mother's. He followed every path they took, he felt every sore they felt, he tasted the food they ate. And he guided them, his vast wisdom guiding them home again as the winter that had driven them away receded and lost strength. Raghnall dipped his head to respect the seasonal power, but Winter only snorted a frosty breath at him and gave him a cold shoulder. The wind passed through Raghnall, but behind him the caribou shrugged and shivered against the cold.
He bellowed at the retreating back of Winter, but the ice queen gave no reply.

Young calves followed their mothers on thin legs. Above, in the sky, circled golden hawks, their spirit guide watching for any calf to stray to far. But Raghnall's ancient worry was picked up by mothers who kept their children close. Raghnall lifted his head and gave the hawks a triumphant look. They screeched and turned to find easier prey.

After the migration, Raghnall watched as the caribou split in smaller groups, and his bright glow and almost solid body began to fade. Spring arrived, her soft eyes smiling into his as his consciousness split among his children and he disappeared.
Until the next massing, my love...

[Nellas]

((Could we please have just one more day? I'm almost done with my writing but not quite.))

[Vardja]

Sometimes he remembers another life—or something. He’s not quite sure what it is. Another era, another time when he rode on updrafts over continents, spread his wings and let the wind catch them, journeyed far and wide surrounded by many loud neighbors whose songs are sweet and sharp.

It’s more than just memories.

Instead, he’s stuck in this smelly herd, with deer that think the same, that sound the same, that even look the same. No bright plumage, no beautiful voices—only the hollow honking sound of caribou as they meander across the tundra.

He feels like he’s in the wrong body, like he should have sleek brown-and-white feathers, a bill sharp enough to feed with, claws that grasp and hold, rather than stubbly little hooves, a dull fur coat, and a rack of antlers that only impede him and itch in their velvet every spring.

His urge to travel pushes him on, away from the herd. He feels no loneliness, as other deer would separated from their kind; he only feels freedom, and bucks and jumps with joy once there are no fawns around to teasingly copy his motions, no does to eye him oddly and shy away if he approaches.

-

It takes many days of heading south before he reaches the arboreal forests. It’s dangerous navigating them, as his antlers could snag on a branch and keep him there ‘till death if he makes one wrong move. He chooses the widest paths, often the ones that are the most empty for threat of predators. He hears the scratching of animals in the litter nearby, but nothing bigger than that.

He hears the sound of bird above him though, almost muffled by the press of the pine trees. They fly overhead, far above against a rich blue sky, and the deer’s heart yearns to join them. If only.

He meets a wolverine one day, who snarls and snaps as she crawls over a carcass. It’s a fawn, and the deer tries not to look at its face.

“Good eating?” the deer asks morbidly, angrily, and the wolverine nods mournfully.

“I wanted to befriend him,” she says, paws resting on the fawn’s ribcage. “But alas, the need for meat was too great. I wished to become a grass-eater, like him, to be lithe and beautiful and adored by the forest-dwellers, but could not.”

The deer sighs and bids her good day, and sprints away before he can hear the sounds of her tearing into the carcass once more.

-

He meets a meets a fox too, who limps sadly alongside him for several miles.

“I loved a female, a hunting dog,” he says sadly. “We got along well, until her master let her off the chain one night. She could not help herself.”

The deer nods sadly, and points out with his nose the herbs that might heal the fox’s wound.

-

He continues on, on, meeting no one else until one day, a shivering sparrow—a bird not of this climate—alights on a branch near his head.

“What is your business here?” the deer asks, for the bird could freeze without proper shelter each night. “Your land ended days ago.”

The sparrow hops closer on the branch, seeming to smile and puff up its feathers.

“I am heading north,” the sparrow says, eyeing him eagerly. “I wish to be a big deer, like you, to have warm beautiful fur and soft eyes, and silent footsteps in the snow.”

The deer listens, and realizes, finally, that no one gets what they want—and sometimes that there is nothing you can do to change that.

That doesn’t mean he can’t stop trying, though, no matter how great the odds against him.

“Stick with me,” he offers, smiling. “And maybe together we’ll become a bird and a deer.”

FIN

AN: I don't know what the due date was on this one, sorry D: Anyway. My crazy thought process on this deer is that it looked like a Canada goose. And there you have the start of my bizarre story.

[Nellas]

-my writing was here, but I removed it-
~Nellas

[CandidCoyote]

Martin
leaping in dawns first light
hidden far out of sight
never seen
never heard
soaring through the grass like a bird
always protecting his herd
danger that comes seeking an easy meal
will find that his herd is hard to kill
careful not to tred any snake
that would be a big mistake
bounding across the ground
not makeing a sound
agile as snow
he finds his way back to his doe

[.Ghost.]

Wow, I'm so late with judging.. ; ;
I was going to judge when I had set the end date, but with all this stuff going on around me I had the worst mental breakdown in months and I couldn't bother taking time to set up a winner for this deer.

But now I've read through them all and I have to say that I'm so, sooo proud of all of you, you guys are doing such an amazing job with these writings and you've managed to blow my mind over and over with your skills. Thank you for giving me the pleasure of reading them. <3

Judging for this guy was really hard. Like.. reallyreallyreally hard, but in the end there could only be one winner.
Congratulations The Maurader's Map, I'll gladly hand this guy over to you.

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[img]http://i930.photobucket.com/albums/ad142/Mitsukaine/Caribou.png[/img]