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stay so close? It’s not fair. Besides, I can look after myself better than most.’
    ‘I’m sure you can, Rannoch. But not today. Do as I ask, my little one, and if you are good I will come down to the tree stump with you tomorrow. Now, why don’t you come and suckle?’
    ‘But, Mamma,’ protested Rannoch.
    But the young deer could see that his mother had made up her mind. He sat down sulkily by her side, thinking all the time of Tain and Thistle playing in the meadow.
    A calf will stop suckling between four and nine months old and Rannoch still drank from his mother’s milk. He looked at her side now and suddenly felt hungry. But Rannoch was cross and instead of nuzzling in to feed, he laid his head on the ground. After a while Rannoch looked so miserable that Bracken licked his nose.
    ‘Rannoch,’ said Bracken, ‘you know it’s only because I love you.’
    ‘I know, Mother,’ answered Rannoch, ‘but it’s not fair. All the fawns laugh at me because I have to stay at home when they go out to play.’
    Bracken gazed down lovingly into Rannoch’s eyes and her heart melted.
    ‘Laugh at you, do they? We can’t have that, can we? Go on then, but be back before Larn.’
    ‘Oh yes, yes. Thank you. I promise I will,’ cried Rannoch and he was about to race away when his mother stopped him again.
    ‘What, Mamma?’
    ‘Before you go, let me look at you.’
    Rannoch knew what was coming. He raised his head obediently.
    ‘I thought so,’ said Bracken. ‘Come over here.’
    ‘Oh, Mother, do I have to?’ grumbled Rannoch as he followed her to the trees.
    He watched Bracken warily as she plucked some blackberries from a branch in her lips and dropped them onto a small pile of leaves on the ground. Then she squashed them in the cleft of her foot until the berries and the moist leaves had turned to a ruddy brown dye.
    ‘Come here, Rannoch,’ said Bracken, scooping some of the mixture onto her tongue.
    ‘But why do you always do this?’ said Rannoch as Bracken rubbed the mixture on his forehead, making the fur darker again.
    ‘It’s good for you, my little one. It will make you all the more handsome.’
    Rannoch shook himself.
    ‘I don’t care. I don’t like it.’
    ‘You will learn in life, my little one,’ said Bracken, ‘that grown-ups do things you sometimes may not like. But more often than not it’s for your own good. Now run along. Be back before Larn, mind,’ she cried as Rannoch tossed his head and raced away.
    Rannoch was delighted that his mother had let him go. But he was still furious that he among all the fawns had to put up with the ritual of the berries and so much trouble when he wanted to play. By the time he got halfway down the meadow, though, he had forgotten all his resentment and was so excited he felt his heart would burst. The sun was glittering in the field and in the distance Tain and Thistle were playing by the old tree stump, taking turns to run at it and throw themselves into the air.
    ‘Look out there,’ shouted Rannoch as he launched himself across the log and landed right next to the two young friends.
    ‘Rannoch!’ cried Tain delightedly. ‘We thought you weren’t coming.’
    ‘Your mother let you go then,’ said Thistle a little unkindly. Thistle was jealous of Rannoch’s friendship with Tain. But before long the three fawns were running and skipping across the log and playing happily in the meadow as they felt the wind on their faces and the strength growing in their young legs. It was a good while before Rannoch began to tire of the game and wandered away from the log in the direction of the trees. He stood there gazing into the distance and was soon lost in thought.
    ‘Rannoch,’ called Tain, who had just executed what seemed to him a particularly spectacular leap, ‘aren’t you playing any more? What’s wrong?’
    ‘Oh, leave him. He’s always dreaming,’ said Thistle as he too launched himself over the stump. But Tain was already padding off