"Brechin? Are you coming?" asked a young fawn by the name of Whitethorn.
Brechin, calf of the legendary Rannoch, tossed his head proudly.
"The storyteller is very close personal friend of my father's." he boasted. "And now you're going to meet him."
Whitethorn looked impressed. It was his normal state of being around Brechin. He idolised his friend, who knew so many important Herla. Whitethorn was a nobody. Whitethorn only knew his mother. But around Brechin, Whitethorn felt special.
The two fawns crossed the meadow where the herd was starting to settle down for the night. They were heading for the edge of the woods, where some fawns could be already seen gathered around a stag. Brechin was disappointed. He had wanted to be first. As they approached the group, the stag looked up.
"Brechin!" he called cheerfully.
Brechin forgot his disappointment as he ran towards the storyteller. Whitethorn approached more shyly. He was a very nervous deer. He was startled to see that the storyteller was looking at him. The storyteller was looking at him!
"I haven't seen you before, young fawn. What's your name?"
Whitethorn was aware of the storyteller talking, but his brain had frozen. Brechin butted him from behind.
"He wants to know your name, braliah!" Brechin said in a whisper that carried around the meadow. The deer that heard him froze.
"Brechin, what did you just call him?" asked the storyteller, slightly dangerously.
Brechin gulped. "Nothing, Tain." he said nervously.
"You know that your father would bite you if he heard you use that language." said the storyteller gravely.
Brechin hung his head. "Yes, Tain."
"You won't say that word again again, will you?"
"No, Tain." A few fawns sniggered.
"Good. Now, who wants to hear a story?"
"Yes!" most of the fawns. Whitethorn didn't join in. He was feeling guilty about getting Brechin into trouble.
"What story would you like to hear?" asked the storyteller, Tain.
He was instantly overwhelmed with suggestions.
"Do the Urgin one!"
"Tell us about Sgorr!"
"I want to hear about Herne's horns!"
Tain barked to quiet them. "Why don't I tell you about Rannoch's first adventure?" he suggested.
Brechin almost smirked.
"Well," began Tain, "It happened when both Rannoch and I were fawns. Rannoch wanted to explore the woods. It was very foolish of him." Tain added the last sentence quickly, when he saw that the fawns may want to copy Rannoch.
"He said later that he wanted to see an owl's nest."
"Did he?" asked a few fawns.
Tain nodded. "But he got lost. After a while, he came to a clearing, and he smelled a fox."
The fawns gasped.
"Then the bushes rustled!"
The fawns gasped again. They were a wonderful audience.
"But it was just Bankfoot."
Tain's audience relaxed. Bankfoot was well known in the herd.
"He was lost as well. They slept in the forest that night. The next day, they wandered around looking for the way out."
Tain paused for dramatic effect. "Do you know how they got back? Rannoch overheard a a few badgers talking!"
More gasping. Deer typically couldn't understand and other animals.
"What happened then?" asked a fawn.
"Ranncoh and Bankfoot were punished by their mothers." It was the end of the story. "What story do you want to hear now?"
Half an hour later, Tain was finished. Most of the fawns left for their mothers. Brechin stayed. So Whitethorn stayed as well.
"I never did learn your name, young fawn." said Tain to Whitethorn.
Whitethorn stared at him in terror.
"His name's-" began Brechin.
"Let him speak, Brechin." said Tain.
Whitethorn found his voice at last.
"W-whitethorn" he said nervously.
Tain nodded, and the fawns left to play "Rannoch and Bankfoot".