A silent tear rolled down Feama's face as she watched her son frolic through the trees, his feet catching on a stick, sending him tumbling.

"My little, beautiful, Lyon," she whispered.

The soft crunching of leaves alerted her to the presence of another.

"Do not worry for him, Feama," murmured Hesix, her mate, "he will live, for us."

She looked to her son once more, his golden hair shining in the morning light.

"It is done," Hesix said, "our baby is grown, he is not a child anymore. He will forge his own path."

She did not answer for a long while, watching silently as the elves found her son, as they asked him his name, and took him away with them.

When they were finally alone once more, without turning, she said quietly, "We did this."

The two deer turned and left the place, fleeing the memories of the elfling whom they could not keep.