2010/3- Fog

Last night I fell into a restless sleep.  It has been some time since we  have had fog this thick, this heavy.  It’s lingered for so long.  I was  glad for the company of my mate, my son, and my son’s new friend.   After the events of the evening, it was hard for me to let myself relax.   But with Wesker around, I soon found my eyelids drooping, and sleep  finally finding its way to me… and I welcomed it as best I could.

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I do not remember much of myself as a fawn before I came here.  I don’t  know if it is because my mind wishes it that way,  or if it was because I  was simply much too young.  But every now and then, fragments of those  times pop up into my mind…usually when I am sleeping.  They take me to  those days which I would rather forget..

Mountains were my home.  Tall mountains with thousands of trees that  seemed to stretch on forever.  It was here that I opened my eyes for the  first time.  Winter was long here,  but it was worth it for the  summers.  At least, that is what I heard from others in the herd I was  born to.   It was a small herd, mostly made up of does.  Then there was  my father.

Nowhere near as large as, well, say, Wesker, Sir Iaurdagnaire, or even  Virgil.. But from where I came from, he was a formidable foe.  He had  survived many battles of the rut and battles for his life, and he had  scars on his flank to prove it.  He was not a kind stag.  He didn’t have  to be kind; that was not his role in life.  He simply needed to make  sure his fawns he fathered would make it to the next year.  And that his  does were not harmed.  

I do remember the day he looked at me.  With total disgust.  My fur, my  pelt, had never been the same color since the beginning; a bluish tint  from the start.  I, of course, smiled at him.  I didn’t know any better.   And then, his first words to me:

“Get it out of my sight.”

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For whatever strange reason in the next few weeks, my mother did not  abandon me, although my father pressed, almost threatened her to.   Thankfully he was busy with the other does and their fawns that he often  forgot about her.  I know now that instinct was probably pressing on  her to abandon me; I was not a normal fawn.  But she cared about me as  much as she could, and she also often wondered aloud if I was a  messenger of the kami; the gods where I came from.  The other does were  curious too.  Maybe that is why I was allowed to live.  Because my  father was met with so much resistance.

One evening, as we all grazed near a clearing, there was a strange  rustle and pungent scent nearby.  It brought fear to the herd, which in  turn frightened the fawns, and nearly brought confusion.  My father gave  the command to stay in line and follow him further into the forest, but  before he could finish, we were rushed by a creature I had never seen  but only heard of: wolves.  Panic rushed the herd, and they made a mad  dash for the mountain.

In the forest, we are all one color.  We look like one intimidating  beast.  Until one sees me.  I stand out like, well, a blue deer.  All  the wolves had to do was follow me, and they had no problem hunting.  It  wasn’t long before they had cut one of the elders off from the herd,  and.. I don’t think I need to explain the rest.  Everyone was terrified  when they reached the mountain.  As we passed my father, he brushed up  against my mother, hard.  I heard what he said.  Even though I was  young, I knew enough that it wasn’t anything nice.

“You should have left her to the wolves.”

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For the next two weeks, the wolves knew how to find us.  They simply  looked for me.  We lost three fawns and two elders.  It was then that my  father commanded my mother to get rid of me, or he would do it himself.   And it would not be the way that she wanted it to be.  It was then  that she made her choice: she knew of a place where I would finally  belong, and have a chance to live among others of my “kind”.  They would  leave that night.

When evening came, deep, thick fog took hold and my parents drove me  through the forest to another, the wolves following at our heels.  I  could hear their howls; I imagined their breath on my flanks.  Then, the  strange forest came into the clearing.

I suppose the rest is history, now.  I know I’m dreaming, but I don’t  feel like I can wake myself.  My legs are twitching; I hope I do not  kick anyone accidentally.  I hope no one can hear me whimper in my  sleep.  If I could only forget this; make it go away.  But it keeps  coming back.  

Only when the fog is here.