Foggy Encounters

It was an abnormally warm fall night. The fog had come down from the mountains into the lower lands; frogs were chirping late into the season and some late straggling insects were flitting about. There were no stars to be seen. The fog was chokingly thick.

A large stag made his way through the valley, head held high and proud. It was obvious he thought much of himself by the way he carried himself.

His ears were constantly at work to listen for an enemy, threat, or rival; the crown on his head stretched wide, reaching for the sky. He feared very little; fog was the least of his concerns. So as it grew thicker, he continued, unconcerned. The farther he walked, the further he walked away from any general mass of deer that lounged round that day. But his head was too held up in the clouds to realize it. Eventually, he settled on top of a hill, noting how thick the fog was up here, so thick it was harder to breathe. The noises around him were so muffled that he didn't at first notice the doe that had settled nearby him.

He found it very odd to see a doe alone in this weather, most of all alone on one of the taller hills. Her pelt was of brilliant monarch hues that seemed to swirl into a life of their own in the fog; bright contradiction to the monochrome background they sat in. Her horn were small, but sharp, like an impala's, and he wondered if she even knew how to use them. The most remarkable, to the stag anyway, was her flawless white face. It was a thing of beauty, like porcelain- the only thing bringing color to it the red that covered her cheeks and her bright green eyes.

The stag sidled over to her. He figured she might want company, and as he moved, she indeed inclined her head in greeting. Her smile was small, but inviting. She seemed so polite and sweet..

"Hello there. I couldn't help but notice you were on your own tonight, of all nights. I'd been wandering in the fog and was surprised to see a doe up here, all on her own. Are you lost?"

At this question, the doe laughed- a small sound, like a tinkling of a bell. Her voice was small, almost sugary. "Ah, I suppose you could say I've lost my way, sir. Especially on a night like this. It's so very hard to see, or even hear.. don't you think?"

With this, the doe tilted her head, eyes meeting his. The stag's heart leapt into his throat. Those eyes..

"The fog cannot hide your beauty, that's for sure, my dear."

The doe blinked shyly, her cheeks seeming to flush even more red. "You.. you think I'm beautiful?"

Her eyes widened, coquettishly. The stag's reasoning was trying to warn him; something wasn't right here. A doe, alone in the fog, sitting up here looking for complments. But he wasn't thinking straight now. Those eyes and smile kept drawing him in.

"Yes. You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."

The doe sat there for a moment with her coquettish smile, staring at him; then suddenly her mouth grew before his eyes into a giant glasgow grin from ear to ear; her eyes gleamed from a hunger he'd never seen in a doe and she bared her razor-sharp teeth. As hideous as she looked, she still retained that angelic voice as she bore down on him with those teeth, searching for his throat.

"And what about now?"

A group of deer nearby the hill thought they heard a gurgling scream, but the fog was so thick they second guessed themselves and continued to huddle under the tree, waiting for the sun to burn the mist away.

The cackle they heard however, rang loud and clear, and they all scattered toward the pond, wishing to be far from whatever was on that hill.