As winter progressed, snowstorms became more frequent and the sky remained grey and dark. In one such night, Friedhelm was stirred awake by the howls of the cold winter wind.
Well, he supposed it was much better than the songbirds chirping about and becoming twitterpated, or that blasted crow's screeching voice. An owl such as him could only endure so much, especially when he was already of an older age. No, that did not give others the right to call him "Old Owl" by any means! And he wasn't that "old" yet anyway, he still had years to come!
Besides, he had enough sleep as he could get with being a nocturnal bird, so perhaps a quick stroll around the woods wasn't so bad. When the wind died out, he left the burrow he slept in and took flight.
"... It's so quiet." He wondered out loud, fully knowing nobody would answer. As obvious a statement it was, even Friedhelm admitted the season felt too lifeless without all the chirping and chatter. So different from other seasons. A bitter reality.
During warmer seasons he'd watch the deer prancing about. Some Princes sparring with each other, a couple does accompanying their young, nothing too unusual. The little ones usually gathered up when Friedhelm was around to hear whatever story he had to tell, or just passing by to greet him.
Or merely be around to hear his ranting on animals being twitterpated.
He's known by many in that part of the forest already, though only as "Friend Owl" rather than his actual name due to how others often mispronounced it. Honestly his parents should've thought ahead when they named him. Well, at least he's gotten used to "Friend Owl" enough that he doesn't bother correcting them.
Landing on a branch of a modestly smaller tree, Friend Owl kept pondering about the silence around him. Well, Sybille was nowhere to be found, so safe to assume she left this winter and wouldn't come till it was over! And the other crows weren't nearly as annoying as her, therefore their company would be somewhat acceptable.
There haven't been many rumors either, though he did eavesdrop on a couple crows commenting on an incident that happened a few weeks ago.
A wolf pack was spotted hunting in the meadows, about a few deer and some small animals taken away. No incidents involving Man, thankfully. But according to the crows, that particular pack shouldn't be here, not yet anyway. They came suddenly as if driven by pure hunger, and from what the owl's heard, their numbers had diminished since their last big hunt.
Was He hunting them down...?
His thoughts were unceremoniously interrupted by a noise.
It sounded like... Scratching?
He looked around him, trying to figure out if the source was somewhere near. Hm... Nothing on the other branches, nothing above, and certainly not from inside the tree. So maybe it was actually coming from below?
Upon doing so, the owl was quite surprised by the sight.
A fawn -young buck perhaps- now lacking spots, scratching his head against the surface of the bark-less tree. By the looks of it, he's been doing this for a while and was annoyed and tired by that point.
Strange... Friend Owl usually never missed the opportunity to greet many a doe and their newborn around that area of the woods, so knowing their names was a given. But the one below him was unfamiliar. Perhaps he came from a different part altogether? A likely possibility...
The fawn stopped, glared at the trunk with a frustrated groan, and headbutted it hard.
Before he knew, the tree and Friedhelm shook with the blow, a few piles of snow falling from branches as result. One pile dropped right on top of the owl's head, startling him.
"Why, watch it down there!" He called to the young buck, shaking snow off his feathers. The fawn quickly looked up, a pair of surprised brown eyes seeing where the owl stood.
"I-I'm sorry sir! I didn't mean to disturb you!" The young buck apologized, but then his eyes widened slightly and blinked, ears briefly perking. "Oh, you're that owl I saw before, the one with the crow! Friend Owl, aren't you?"
The very mention of that bird made the owl roll his eyes, shaking his head.
"Hmph! That fiend, a troublemaker I say! At least she's away during winter, good riddance!" His feathers puffed a little as he kept talking, not noticing the exasperated expression on the fawn's face. Then Friedhelm leaned a bit forward, bright yellow eyes taking a better look at Bruno.
"And pray tell me, who are you? Though I take it you know who I am, I can't seem to recognize you. And I do know most of the little fellas in this part of the woods!"
"I'm Bruno. I was from somewhere else, my friends told me about you." As Bruno said, the owl seemed to be in deep thought.
"I see I see. Well then, what's a Young Prince doing around here all alone in times like these, let alone in the middle of the night?" The owl moved a wing, gesturing to the falling snow and the darkness surrounding them both. "You do seem bothered by something, I presume. What's the matter?"
Bruno gave a short, frustrated sigh.
"My head's itching and aching, I can't make it stop. It started while I was sleeping..." His head shook rapidly, like he hoped to make the itching go away. Of course, it didn't work.
"Hm... I admit I don't understand such things, but... Allow me to see it?" Upon that question, the fawn took a glance back — not far off there was a den, probably the one he lived in — then turned back and nodded.
As the owl landed on a lower branch, Bruno gave a few steps back and slightly tilted his head so Friedhelm had a better view. It took a considerably long moment, with the bird only "Hmm"-ing before he gave a nod and motioned the young buck to lift his head back up.
"Indeed, just as I thought." The owl nodded with a hint of a smile. That didn't help Bruno's case, though, as it left him more worried.
"What is it?" The fawn pressed on, half annoyed and half concerned.
"Mhmm, nothing out of the ordinary. Perfectly normal for a Young Prince your age, in fact." Before Bruno could protest, Friend Owl added: "Just look at yourself. Perhaps you'll notice something different."
Though a little skeptical, he did just that. First looking at his own legs, then turning to see the sides of his body where his spots were. Or where they used to be.
... Huh. He hadn't stopped to think about it. It's been a while since he last checked, and he hadn't noticed how his spots, all of them, were gone. On top of that, his fur seemed darker than he remembered it being, even without sunlight to confirm it was the case. And the itchiness and aching on top of his head...
Wait a moment.
Oh.
No way.
No way!
He had to tell Old Nettla about this! Wasting no time he rushed back to the den, completely forgetting about the owl he's just spoken to. The latter didn't seem bothered by this, surprisingly.
"Youths these days..." Friend Owl mumbled under his breath, smiling.
"Psst! Pssst!"
Ears twitched at the sound... Some stupid bug got in...? So annoying...
"Aunt Nettla?"
A whisper... Bruno...? Hm... No, it's late, he's asleep... Mind playing tricks, of course...
"Aunt, wake up!"
The voice got louder and something nudged her neck.
... Mind wasn't playing tricks at all. What. A. Pain.
With a tired groan, Nettla lazily opened her eyes, the figure in front of her a little blurry and standing at the entrance of the den. Letting out a yawn, she slowly lifted her head and made a lot of effort to keep her eyes open.
"... Bruno, it's still dark outside. I hope there's a good reason to wake me up at this hour." She spoke in a sleepy, hoarse voice, almost slurring through the words. The fawn didn't seem to mind, only wagging his tail and smiling without a care in the world.
... Smiling?
"Sorry, but I wanted to show you something!" He lowered his head so Nettla could see, momentarily leaving her confused. "Look!"
Any trace of confusion and irritation (and sleepiness) promptly vanished once she realized.
There was a pair of small bumps forming near the back of Bruno's head.
A pair of little antlers soon to emerge.
There were no words to describe how the doe felt at that moment, for "pride and joy" would never be enough to encompass all emotions going through her. It certainly wasn't left unseen, because now Bruno was beaming. Those eyes, usually so pensive and void of light, now filled with warmth.
Felicie would've been so proud of him...
"Does that mean I'm bigger now? I'm not "Young Prince" anymore?" Such excitement in his voice, Nettla couldn't help but let out a chuckle. A fawn who went through so much, still retained some innocence at the end of the day.
"Now now, don't get too ahead of yourself. You still have much to grow and much to learn. And besides," she continued, "aren't you supposed to be asleep as of right now?"
"... Oh. Y-yeah, I uh..." He sheepishly laughed, as he just remembered how late (or early?) it was. "The itchiness woke me up, so..."
"Mhm, and you went outside to scratch your head and make it stop, no?" He stared at her as she spoke, as if internally asking himself "How did she know that?". Nettla caught up on that just by looking at his face.
"What? Don't give me that look, of course I would know. Am I not the old doe who's raised fawns in the past, after all?" And there was the smugness she wore anytime she dismissed other deer or when proven right. "Regardless, all Princes need a good night's sleep, Young or not."
Bruno would've argued otherwise, if not for the yawn he let out as she said those words, so he went back inside without questioning, lying down on the spot he usually slept in. Barely a couple moments after, he'd already fallen asleep. Perhaps he was much more tired than he admitted or knew. Nettla could only smile warmly at the sight before turning her gaze to the scenery outside.
And outside the den, quietly perched on a branch of the nearest tree, a very familiar owl watching over the place. He seemed to have spotted her, as he gave a small nod which she returned, and then he flew away into the night.
"Ah, Friedhelm... You'll never change." She whispered, before finally laying back down and letting sleep take over her once more.
The season continued on and on, winds howling through the woods, white covering everything everywhere. Those lucky enough were surviving, and those unlucky would be left behind, taken by predators or Nature itself. A reality far too real to run away from, a reality which many thought would last forever and always.
Until it didn't.
One day, the winds stopped. Snowfalls became a little less frequent, the clouds not nearly as grey and dense as they were, tiny hints of blue appearing once in a while. Even a few small animals started appearing a little more. And before anyone realized, a patch of new spring's grass had grown in the meadow.
Now it was only a matter of time...
