The shot tore through his eardrums like white fire. With the elegance of movement only deer possess, the little fawn sprang away across the long grasses. Hundreds of yards away, a hunter's eyes flew from his gun sights and he swore a colorful streak in the air. He hadn't seen the fawn- he'd only seen the long neck and gentle eyes of the doe-
He ran with unparelleled speed, his slender legs taking him out of field and drowning his mottled coat in the equally mottled colors of the forest.
He didn't listen for the footsteps behind him. He didn't wait for the call that would slow his stride.
He hadn't seen his mother fall.
A little stream trickled before his burning feet, curving to the right. He lowered boxy hooves into the cool water and bleated when the sudden change cramped his ankles. Little Bambi fell heavily into the stream, floundering as awkwardly here as he had on his first trip along the ice. "Mother!" he cried. He knew she would wait patiently by his side, until the pain faded and he could again stand on his own four feet. That was, after all, what mothers were for.
But as he stumbled and scraped himself, he became aware he was alone. No warm body hovered carefully close to him, no soothing voice whispered in his ears as she cleaned his face.
"Mother, I'm over here! Mother!" he cried. She must have bolted the wrong way when they heard the shot of Man. "MOTHER!" Anxiety spelled his tiny body as he lifted his nose, searching the air for some trace of the thicket- his mother's very own scent.
The pain in his legs hadn't faded, but he forced himself up onto the bank and onto his bumbly little feet. She had warned him against being out on his own. It was dangerous, and at least until he weaned, he should stick close to her.
But he would never be weaned. She would never push him away with her velvet nose, never nuzzle his reproachful face, never explain to him in her low and quiet voice the way these things worked. He was now and forever...alone. Bambi tried to retrace his steps as his fear mounted. He'd run as the crow flies- that is, straight. The smell of sun and grass lead him back along his trail, the meadow where he'd find his mother again. Surely, she lurked just outside its ring, searching for her lost fawn. "Mother, here I am! You don't have to look anymore!" he called. No response.
Something was wrong.
A strange, almost painfully alien scent met his button nose. Nothing he'd ever smelled here in the forest. Nothing that belonged HERE.
He bounded over to a break in the trees and thrust his head through. The twig brushes caught downy fur and snagged his great, wobbling ears- but it didn't matter if he got caught. It didn't matter because-
"WHERE ARE YOU TAKING MY MOTHER?!" Bambi screamed.
He knew instantly that these were Men, and that they'd done something awful. They held long sticks that smelled like fire on the breeze, and they laughed as they hoisted the freshly dead doe for photos. Seeing his mother so still...seeing her beautiful, warm fur splattered with blood and beer from the cans they held- the same fur that had warmed his tiny body for as long as he could remember-
"STOP IT!" the tiny fawn shrieked. Hysteria rose in his throat and he thrashed his way free from the bushes. He flew a few feet into the sun drenched meadow, only to be repelled by conditioning ingrained in him since birth.
Be careful of the meadow, his mother had cautioned him. Be wary of Man. Was this what he should be wary of? Of Men who came to take his mother away? To load her into the bed of a truck as her cooling body was sniffed and snorted over by little black wolves.
"Please- PLEASE!" He danced in and out of the woods, out of his mind. Where were they taking her?! He couldn't live without his mother! What would he do, where would he go, he was cold and hurt and hungry and he needed his mother- "MOTHER!"
The hunters heard him and looked up from their congratulating each other. They watched a fleet streak of brown dash a step to their truck and yank back as surely as if he were tied with a rope. They heard him cry.
"Goddamit, Klete, you hit one w' a fawn!" Angus sighed. The little baby's mindless calls were heartbreaking.
"Don' matter none now. You want me to pick 'im off, too? Faster death, this way- "
Bambi knew when instinctively what it meant when one of the Men swung the barrel at him. He froze. Liquid eyes traced the shell that had been the mother he loved so dearly and returned to the death aimed at his face. He was nothing without his mother. His whole world was now loaded into the bed of a rusty red truck. He lowered his head.
"No!" Angus gasped; smacking the gun away. "You NEVER kill the fawns! I'ma stop huntin' with you, Klete. Yer somethin' weird behind the trigger of a Winchester. You NEVER kill the babies."
Klete shrugged and lowered the rifle. Watching that baby stare down the barrel of the gun had been eerie- bone chilling. He turned his back on the lost little fawn and swung into the seat of the cab.
"Say bye-bye, mama! Hope your kid tastes as good as you will, someday."
Angus shot Klete a weird look and started the car.
And Bambi could only watched helplessly as his lifeline disappeared out of the meadow.
"Wait..." he mewled. "Please wait...that's my mother..."
He ran with unparelleled speed, his slender legs taking him out of field and drowning his mottled coat in the equally mottled colors of the forest.
He didn't listen for the footsteps behind him. He didn't wait for the call that would slow his stride.
He hadn't seen his mother fall.
A little stream trickled before his burning feet, curving to the right. He lowered boxy hooves into the cool water and bleated when the sudden change cramped his ankles. Little Bambi fell heavily into the stream, floundering as awkwardly here as he had on his first trip along the ice. "Mother!" he cried. He knew she would wait patiently by his side, until the pain faded and he could again stand on his own four feet. That was, after all, what mothers were for.
But as he stumbled and scraped himself, he became aware he was alone. No warm body hovered carefully close to him, no soothing voice whispered in his ears as she cleaned his face.
"Mother, I'm over here! Mother!" he cried. She must have bolted the wrong way when they heard the shot of Man. "MOTHER!" Anxiety spelled his tiny body as he lifted his nose, searching the air for some trace of the thicket- his mother's very own scent.
The pain in his legs hadn't faded, but he forced himself up onto the bank and onto his bumbly little feet. She had warned him against being out on his own. It was dangerous, and at least until he weaned, he should stick close to her.
But he would never be weaned. She would never push him away with her velvet nose, never nuzzle his reproachful face, never explain to him in her low and quiet voice the way these things worked. He was now and forever...alone. Bambi tried to retrace his steps as his fear mounted. He'd run as the crow flies- that is, straight. The smell of sun and grass lead him back along his trail, the meadow where he'd find his mother again. Surely, she lurked just outside its ring, searching for her lost fawn. "Mother, here I am! You don't have to look anymore!" he called. No response.
Something was wrong.
A strange, almost painfully alien scent met his button nose. Nothing he'd ever smelled here in the forest. Nothing that belonged HERE.
He bounded over to a break in the trees and thrust his head through. The twig brushes caught downy fur and snagged his great, wobbling ears- but it didn't matter if he got caught. It didn't matter because-
"WHERE ARE YOU TAKING MY MOTHER?!" Bambi screamed.
He knew instantly that these were Men, and that they'd done something awful. They held long sticks that smelled like fire on the breeze, and they laughed as they hoisted the freshly dead doe for photos. Seeing his mother so still...seeing her beautiful, warm fur splattered with blood and beer from the cans they held- the same fur that had warmed his tiny body for as long as he could remember-
"STOP IT!" the tiny fawn shrieked. Hysteria rose in his throat and he thrashed his way free from the bushes. He flew a few feet into the sun drenched meadow, only to be repelled by conditioning ingrained in him since birth.
Be careful of the meadow, his mother had cautioned him. Be wary of Man. Was this what he should be wary of? Of Men who came to take his mother away? To load her into the bed of a truck as her cooling body was sniffed and snorted over by little black wolves.
"Please- PLEASE!" He danced in and out of the woods, out of his mind. Where were they taking her?! He couldn't live without his mother! What would he do, where would he go, he was cold and hurt and hungry and he needed his mother- "MOTHER!"
The hunters heard him and looked up from their congratulating each other. They watched a fleet streak of brown dash a step to their truck and yank back as surely as if he were tied with a rope. They heard him cry.
"Goddamit, Klete, you hit one w' a fawn!" Angus sighed. The little baby's mindless calls were heartbreaking.
"Don' matter none now. You want me to pick 'im off, too? Faster death, this way- "
Bambi knew when instinctively what it meant when one of the Men swung the barrel at him. He froze. Liquid eyes traced the shell that had been the mother he loved so dearly and returned to the death aimed at his face. He was nothing without his mother. His whole world was now loaded into the bed of a rusty red truck. He lowered his head.
"No!" Angus gasped; smacking the gun away. "You NEVER kill the fawns! I'ma stop huntin' with you, Klete. Yer somethin' weird behind the trigger of a Winchester. You NEVER kill the babies."
Klete shrugged and lowered the rifle. Watching that baby stare down the barrel of the gun had been eerie- bone chilling. He turned his back on the lost little fawn and swung into the seat of the cab.
"Say bye-bye, mama! Hope your kid tastes as good as you will, someday."
Angus shot Klete a weird look and started the car.
And Bambi could only watched helplessly as his lifeline disappeared out of the meadow.
"Wait..." he mewled. "Please wait...that's my mother..."