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Authors: Peter Walpole
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coming.”
He progressed firmly but slowly across the pasture. Behind him came six more deer: three does, a little button buck, a small fawn, and a small adult buck. These six wove along through the grass and brush, now stopping, now starting again, raising their noses high, sniffing the wind. Twice the little fawn burst back toward the safety of the trees, only to gallop up again to the rear of the slowly advancing group. Emma repeated her grip on the back of my neck.
“Strength,” said a deep, rumbling voice that filled my body. I knew it must be Reggie.
“Strength,” said Emma, and nodded her head slightly. She let go of my neck a moment and batted me lightly on the back of my head.
“Strength,” I said, uncertainly.
“How is your family?” asked Emma, as she rested her hand on the back of my neck once again.
“One is weak,” said the buck.
“I will see to them all,” said Emma. “I have brought a man-child to meet you.”
Reggie looked me over slowly, the way the first doe had, turning his head slowly first to one side, then to the other.
“Man-child,” he rumbled.
“Sir,” I said, in awe of his size and bearing, of the breadth and development of his antlers, which arched high above his powerful head and neck.
“No danger,” Reggie said.
At that the other deer walked toward me with a little less timidity, their ears high and wide, all sniffing like mad, making these loud snorting sounds. The little fawn hid behind the three does, and would not approach. The button buck took a step forward, a step back, then danced forward and butted me once, quite sharply, in the stomach.
“Hey!” I said, and laughed.
He butted me again, and I rapped him on the top of his head, between the small buds which would one day be antlers. He scampered off, and scampered back, feinting and dodging like a boxer.
“He likes you,” Emma said.
“Sure,” I said, beaming. I reached out and tried to tap his head again; he dodged and butted me a good one on the side of my leg.
“Walk,” Reggie said suddenly, and began to walk away from us, back to the center of the meadow.
“Here,” said Emma, “he means you.” She closed hereyes, touched my neck, and I felt a sudden burst of electricity course through me, from her hand into my neck and down through my toes.
“Oww!” I cried.
“I didn't hurt you,” said Emma a bit tersely, and pushed me toward Reggie. I walked out toward him, confused and more than a little scared.
“Speak simply and honestly,” Emma said. “Above all, honestly. He'll understand you, in his way, if what you say comes from your heart.”
“Man-child,” he said again.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, and turned back toward Emma. I could hear him on my own. She simply waved me away, and turned to begin examining the other deer, laying her hands on their coats, rubbing them gently. I walked toward Reggie, looking back toward Emma.
“She gives strength,” Reggie said. “What do you give?
“I, uh, well, nothing, sir,” I said. “I guess.”
“You are family?”
“No,” I said. “We're friends. She teaches me.”
“You give strength,” he said.
“No,” I said. “No, I . . .”
“You give strength,” he said.
We walked a while in silence. Reggie walked very slowly, the muscles of his flanks rippling with controlled power. He made me feel frightened and sad at the same time.
“What will you do when the hunters come?” I asked, my voice trembling.
The answer came in words that formed in me, slowly, distinctly.
“What we always do. Hide. Move from the meadows up to the hills. Watch for the men. Stay still and let them pass. Follow, watch, and hide.”
“Follow?”
“Follow,” Reggie said, the voice that formed within me was flat, emotionless. “The men walk and walk and walk. We follow and watch. It is safe.”
“Are you . . . are you afraid?”
“Some will die,” he said. “Always, some will die. I am old, but I am strong. I will survive.”
We walked
He progressed firmly but slowly across the pasture. Behind him came six more deer: three does, a little button buck, a small fawn, and a small adult buck. These six wove along through the grass and brush, now stopping, now starting again, raising their noses high, sniffing the wind. Twice the little fawn burst back toward the safety of the trees, only to gallop up again to the rear of the slowly advancing group. Emma repeated her grip on the back of my neck.
“Strength,” said a deep, rumbling voice that filled my body. I knew it must be Reggie.
“Strength,” said Emma, and nodded her head slightly. She let go of my neck a moment and batted me lightly on the back of my head.
“Strength,” I said, uncertainly.
“How is your family?” asked Emma, as she rested her hand on the back of my neck once again.
“One is weak,” said the buck.
“I will see to them all,” said Emma. “I have brought a man-child to meet you.”
Reggie looked me over slowly, the way the first doe had, turning his head slowly first to one side, then to the other.
“Man-child,” he rumbled.
“Sir,” I said, in awe of his size and bearing, of the breadth and development of his antlers, which arched high above his powerful head and neck.
“No danger,” Reggie said.
At that the other deer walked toward me with a little less timidity, their ears high and wide, all sniffing like mad, making these loud snorting sounds. The little fawn hid behind the three does, and would not approach. The button buck took a step forward, a step back, then danced forward and butted me once, quite sharply, in the stomach.
“Hey!” I said, and laughed.
He butted me again, and I rapped him on the top of his head, between the small buds which would one day be antlers. He scampered off, and scampered back, feinting and dodging like a boxer.
“He likes you,” Emma said.
“Sure,” I said, beaming. I reached out and tried to tap his head again; he dodged and butted me a good one on the side of my leg.
“Walk,” Reggie said suddenly, and began to walk away from us, back to the center of the meadow.
“Here,” said Emma, “he means you.” She closed hereyes, touched my neck, and I felt a sudden burst of electricity course through me, from her hand into my neck and down through my toes.
“Oww!” I cried.
“I didn't hurt you,” said Emma a bit tersely, and pushed me toward Reggie. I walked out toward him, confused and more than a little scared.
“Speak simply and honestly,” Emma said. “Above all, honestly. He'll understand you, in his way, if what you say comes from your heart.”
“Man-child,” he said again.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, and turned back toward Emma. I could hear him on my own. She simply waved me away, and turned to begin examining the other deer, laying her hands on their coats, rubbing them gently. I walked toward Reggie, looking back toward Emma.
“She gives strength,” Reggie said. “What do you give?
“I, uh, well, nothing, sir,” I said. “I guess.”
“You are family?”
“No,” I said. “We're friends. She teaches me.”
“You give strength,” he said.
“No,” I said. “No, I . . .”
“You give strength,” he said.
We walked a while in silence. Reggie walked very slowly, the muscles of his flanks rippling with controlled power. He made me feel frightened and sad at the same time.
“What will you do when the hunters come?” I asked, my voice trembling.
The answer came in words that formed in me, slowly, distinctly.
“What we always do. Hide. Move from the meadows up to the hills. Watch for the men. Stay still and let them pass. Follow, watch, and hide.”
“Follow?”
“Follow,” Reggie said, the voice that formed within me was flat, emotionless. “The men walk and walk and walk. We follow and watch. It is safe.”
“Are you . . . are you afraid?”
“Some will die,” he said. “Always, some will die. I am old, but I am strong. I will survive.”
We walked
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