Somewhere in the depths of the forest, there was a hidden clearing untouched by time and untainted by the world outside — a place of warmth and light where golden butterflies flew everywhere, with a tiny cliff where a small creek flowing underneath. Indeed, it was like a secret haven.

Not far from there, emerging from some bushes that hid the entrance was a fawn, undoubtedly a Young Prince no older than a few months of age, young enough to not know what life would have in store. Just moments ago he'd been following a butterfly out of curiosity, soon finding himself entering that secret place.

Past the leaves covering the path, the Prince slowly walked closer to where sunlight seeped through the tree leaves and looked up — hundreds of golden butterflies resting on top of the trees, some of them taking flight. It was so... breathtaking, he stood still in awe and unwilling to turn his brown eyes away from that sight.

"Bruno!"

The fawn quickly snapped back to reality upon hearing his name being called. "Bruno! Where are you?" A female voice could be heard from beyond the bushes.

"Oh, u-um... I'm coming!" Bruno rushed back and out of the entrance, gave one last quick look at where he came from, then ran to where a doe stood; one no longer in her youth, darkened fur and grey eyes looking at him sternly. Bruno looked up at her with a sheepish smile, while she only sighed and shook her head in disapproval.

"Now Bruno, what have I told you about wandering off on your own without telling me?" The fawn's ears dropped in shame upon hearing her words.

"Sorry, Aunt Nettla..." The doe lifted her head, seemingly paying attention to her surroundings.

"It's getting late, we must return to the den soon enough." Her ears moved while she spoke, as if to try and listen to anything that could be approaching, then started walking away. "Don't fall behind."

"Why do we have to go? The sun hasn't left yet..." Bruno hurriedly caught up with Nettla, confused as to why she was saying this. The old doe glanced at the fawn beside her before returning her gaze to the direction where they were going. Another sigh, eyes quickly becoming somber, more than they already were.

"... Man is in the woods. So you must not stray, do you understand?"

That was enough to make the fawn not ask anything else, so he merely nodded at his caretaker. He wouldn't dare try even asking her to know more even if he wanted - because he's heard tales about all dangers brought by Him.

Nobody in the woods was able to describe what Man really was, and those who were able had become deathly afraid of Him. They say Man has no claws or fangs, yet He is far more dangerous than any wolf, bear or mountain lion. Man carries a stick from which thunder and smoke comes out from, and any time He uses it, an animal dies and is never seen again — because Man has taken them away. He always does.

Sometimes He brings strange wolf-like creatures - the crows call them "dogs" - which cannot understand the language of forest animals. Once a dog spots a prey, unless they know a way of evading it, it's over. Man also knows how to lure animals into the meadow by imitating voices, and sets traps which can bring even the largest bear down.

These were things a young fawn shouldn't know, let alone be curious about, yet Bruno couldn't help it. Then again, a part of him knew Old Nettla was right. He shouldn't be wandering off on his own so carelessly. Although she wasn't truly his aunt nor was she blood-related to him, she still raised and cared about him as her own. That was her role, that was her promise.

Such thoughts made him not tell Nettla about the beautiful clearing he's found, because he knew she wouldn't believe him; in her words, there is no such thing as a "safe haven" in the woods, not to those still living anyway. Bruno didn't understand these words, but she'd always said: "Someday, you will."

As both doe and fawn walked back to their den, the soft summer breeze gave way to a strong wind blowing through the forest, leaves dancing and twirling with it — clouds were forming above as dozens of shadows flew past the trees. No doubt a storm would come soon.

A single crow was sitting on a branch, watching attentively the two deer disappear into the woods as the first raindrops fell.