Chapter 5

The sun was already peeking above the hills in the east when its rays filtered through the lodge wall, rousing Bryn from his sleep. He woke with his stomach in knots, his mind running over the muddle of yesterday's events. He returned after months away only to find the carefree peace of his fawnhood upturned, and he struggled to reconcile the clanmates he knew back then to those he saw now. The rest of the small village was already milling about and, rather than stay inside for the rest of the morning, the young buck sought some solitude out by the lake. And maybe a chance to get his mind right.

Chickadees fluttered between the broad leaves of the sugar maples, taking little notice of the buck as they chased each other through the clean morning air. Bryn followed the worn packed-dirt trail encircling the lake, carrying his canvas messenger bag loaded with blueberries, blackberries, and a bundle of acorn bread from the night before. Now and again, a fish would break the still surface of the water, and soon after another jumped clear into the air. A crisp breeze washed over his tawny fur, and his nose caught the bright scent of wintergreen. A walk around the lake was already helping to calm the uneasiness tormenting his stomach, and out here he wasn't likely to run into anyone.

Except . . .

He froze in place. On the far shore of the lake, hidden behind a wall of shrubs in the shade of the ash trees, an ancient brick building overgrown with moss sat half-sunken in the ground. A mossy wall of the same ruddy brick ran just beside the water, and sitting on it, perfectly still and eyes closed, was a young doe in a fat, pumpkin orange scarf.

Clover? She seemed deep in thought or prayer. Okay, so I'm not alone . . . At least it's not Cadogan. Bryn approached slowly, his feet shuffling leaves softly in the muddy clay.

The doe was breathing deeply, her scarf rising and falling with her chest. Hearing Bryn, she slowly turned to him and opened her gentle eyes.

"Somehow I thought you'd wander out here." She smiled peacefully coming out of her trance, warm as always.

"Yeah?" he stumbled over a wayward brick lodged in the mud. "How'd you know that?"

"Last night," she spoke softly as Bryn clambered up on the wall and took a seat beside her, "it looked like you just wanted to disappear to the world."

He sighed, not disagreeing.

"And where did you used to go when you wanted to be alone?" She smiled knowingly. "To the lake, right? It's the same place I go."

"I didn't mean to crowd the place," Bryn chuckled awkwardly, then fell silent. "Did you want to be alone?"

"Ha!" she laughed back and held out a wicker basket. "Not if you want to pick mushrooms with me!"

He smiled again, suddenly grateful for the company. "Well, why not?"

"Perfect! Really, I was hoping for some company. I think there's some really ripe ones out there now . . ." The young doe turned to the lake and breathed slowly, deeply. Fish continued to nip at the surface. "You know, Bryn . . . a lot's happened since you've been gone. A lot I can't really put into words . . . Like, one day you're a kid and then, without really knowing it, you've grown up."

Bryn turned to her with ears perked. This is exactly what I've been feeling, but I don't have the words for it either . . . He mumbled, "Yeah, I think I know what you mean."

"I guess I'm seeing the world in a different way than I used to. I feel a stronger bond with nature--that's why I come out here. It gives me a chance to nurture that, and I don't need to be around the other does all the time. There's something out here that calls to me--it's where I can find my 'center' again. But I also feel like . . . some of these things that used to make sense, don't anymore. And . . . I don't know. I suppose that's just part of growing up. Shedding your old skin and growing into the new one."

Bryn was silent for a moment, now also turning to watch the lake. "Yeah," he spoke softly at first, "a lot of it doesn't make sense. I always expected a future where Evan was the clan leader, where he'd be like my brother, looking after me. And now Cadogan, he's--" his voice caught in his throat, "he's nothing like that. He'd get me kicked out of the clan the first chance he gets."

"Why?" Clover asked, cocking her head. "What have you done that he'd kick you out for?"

"Well, nothing, I guess. Not yet. He's just really . . ."

"Bryn." She ended his thought for him. "I think you give Cad too much credit. He doesn't have that kind of power." She leaned forward to look him in the eyes. "What I see is . . . you're like an animal trapped in a cage. But you don't have to be, because it's a cage that you made for yourself. Maybe you were told to stay in there, and maybe it's where you feel most comfortable. But you're allowed to leave, if you can just see it."

The two looked at each other silently as the wind rustled the ash leaves above. Then Clover rubbed a hand in the fluff between Bryn's antlers and a laugh broke from his muzzle.

She smiled and sat upright. "Cad's been really uppity; I've seen it. But don't let him get to you. His dad will keep him in line."

Bryn huffed, "Yeah, I guess so . . ." He straightened the fluff atop his head, equal parts relieved and nervous. Maybe Cadogan really wasn't the threat he made him out to be. Maybe he's just trying, in his own, very awkward way, to assert his position in the clan. That thought gave him some peace of mind. "So!" he turned to her. "What about those mushrooms?"

* * *

This time of year, when the morning breeze carries the first chill of autumn, a particularly stout mushroom blooms from the earth, and though they call it 'squirrel's bread', it is just as delectable to cervine palates. Those growing close to the village get snatched up impatiently, before growing to full size. But further out, they have a chance to truly flourish.

"This is where I went last season." Clover pointed out across the stream from atop a mossy rock. "The soil must be just right, 'cause they grow nice and fat!"

The stream cut right through the forest, flowing over smooth, algae-covered stones. The doe tossed her wicker basket underhand to the opposite bank where it landed with an audible bounce, and Bryn led the way across, water flowing up to his calves. He shivered at its brisk nip, carefully planting one foot, then the other, on the slippery riverbed as minnows darted around him. On the other side, he vigorously shook each leg dry trying to warm up again.

"Don't worry--temperature's just fine!"

Clover huffed playfully and followed his lead. Tiptoeing through the chilly flow, she made it halfway through before--

SPLASH!

Her hoof slipped on the river stones, sending her sliding at an angle--but she caught herself on outstretched hands, nose just inches from being submerged.

"Clover!" the buck instantly ran back in and, with a hand under each arm, helped her back up. "You alright there?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just can't wait for those mushrooms!" she laughed loudly at herself. On the far bank, she held up her thick scarf, half-soaked from the stumble and dripping heavily. She sighed, "I can't believe it . . ."

Shaking himself off again, Bryn watched the young doe unwrap her scarf and, shedding it, revealed the short, snowy fur running bare and unbroken from her muzzle, down her chest and stomach, to between her slim thighs. Even after the tumble in the stream, she moved with poise, delicately draping her sole garment over a low branch.

"You can stay and dry out for now," she muttered, setting the scarf down. "We just need to remember where we crossed . . ." Clover picked up the empty basket and hopped energetically, as if the scarf was a weight from which she was suddenly unburdened. "Ready?"

There was no trail out here to lead them through the forest. They were truly in the wild now. The pair wound their way around paper-white birches, over fallen logs succumbing to carpets of moss, until the forest opened up and they found themselves at the edge of a wide, hilly meadow. They paused for a moment at the edge. A trio of blue jays took to the air when Clover ran out ahead into the open space, arms out to catch the breeze. Bryn followed behind; the grass was knee-high and gave easily, wildflowers dotted here and there among the green, the sky above broad and clear but for a few puffy clouds.

Bryn spied a cluster of bright white asters and, thinking it might be a sweet gesture, picked the largest of the group. Meanwhile, Clover was gazing upward with arms spread, basket discarded in the tall grass, letting the sunshine warm her. The young buck walked up the hill to her side and silently offered the flower. She looked over, meeting his eyes for a moment, before a giggle broke free. The two laughed warmly as she twirled the stem between her fingers and placed the blossom in her short, amber hair.

"I don't think I've ever been out here before." Bryn looked over the green expanse.

"It's really pretty. But no one seems to bother making the hike. Probably 'cause they don't know about the mushrooms. Inci-dent-ally . . ." she put a finger to her lips, "don't go spoiling it! If anyone finds out exactly where I do my hunting, the place'll be picked clean before they even have a chance to grow up!"

Bryn nodded, "Your secret's safe with me."

The young doe smiled and turned to wander through the meadow, leaving the basket where it was for the moment. Her fur was lit a golden hue bathed in the warm sunshine, and Bryn was struck by how at-home she looked. It was unusual to see her without jewelry of any kind and without the scarf she'd taken to wearing this season. She kicked through the grass completely nude and, gazing over the open expanse, seemed every bit like an animal, wild and free.

And beautiful . . ._Bryn admired her in this rare light. _She carries herself so easily . . . She looks like she's never worn a thread in her life. Though it was hard to imagine the innocence of that little fawn from years ago, grown and nurtured into the image of such a lovely doe, it was an easy sight for him to take in.

She cast a quick smile to Bryn, her eyes narrowing in pure, unfeigned joy, then turned her back, meandering through the tall grass. It brushed at her long, smooth legs, crossing elegantly as she walked. The swell of her young breasts bounced slightly with each step, her soft nipples jutting from supple, pink areolas. And while her breasts hadn't grown to the same plump fullness that K.C. boasted, they suited her slim frame perfectly. It occurred to Bryn that she might have started wearing that thick scarf out of shyness; that, as her body grew ever further into the liminal uncertainty of adolescence, she struggled to keep pace. She had grown taller and strode more gracefully, but her nipples, once unremarkable on her boyishly flat chest, had fattened, looking ever more suitable for the suckling mouths of next season's fawns. Surrounded by her clanmates in the village, the transition might have felt ungraceful, even shameful; perhaps that's why she felt the peaceful, unjudging solitude of the wilderness calling her. Out here, she seemed utterly at ease in her own fur, even with the changes the last season brought on, and Bryn was rapt in the sight of his grown friend, the Clover he'd come home to.

"Isn't it lovely out here?" She asked Bryn at last.

He blinked slowly, catching up with the moment. "Yeah . . ." he turned his attention to the rolling hills of grass, the wind sending waves across the sunlit green. "It really is."

They spent several moments quietly taking in the scene, unhurried.

* * *

Further up the hill, the two young deer wound their way through a forest of white pine, the bed of old fallen needles soft underfoot. It was here Clover expected to find their 'squirrel's bread' mushrooms, citing her success on hunts past, and she gave an excited gasp at the first sighting.

"Look at this one!" she dropped to her knees in the shade of a tall pine and pointed out the beige fungus, its pale stalk impressively thick and bulbous. "See, this is why it's worth the hike."

"Not too bad," Bryn chuckled.

She turned to him, feigning shock, "'Not too bad?' That's it??" She stuck her tongue out at his understated enthusiasm. "Alright, let's see you find a bigger one!"

Giggling to herself, she delicately swept away the bed of pine needles and plucked the massive mushroom for her basket. Bryn followed closely behind, doing his best to keep an eye out for more, which would be difficult if his gaze kept wandering to the inviting sway of his friend's backside. It was hard enough keeping his composure for that brief time alone with K.C., and now he had an unhindered opportunity to linger on the inviting view of Clover's smooth-furred buttocks, smooshing and creasing against her thighs, left then right then left again. Wow . . . I don't remember her having such an amazing ass. How did she grow so much in a season? I've never seen a butt that looked SO ready to be mounted . . . He forced himself to look away. No--Don't even play at thinking that sort of thing. Not unless you want to embarrass yourself like with K.C. They're all off-limits.

The young doe found another patch of mushrooms and bent over for a closer look. "Ooh, there's some really plump ones here."

Bryn turned just then to see the snowy patch of fur on the girl's backside. Keeping her legs straight, Clover bent at the waist, buttocks facing him squarely. The unspoiled white of her fluffy tail swished happily above, sided to side, and lifted slowly into the air revealing plainly the tender pink pucker of her anus. As little covering as the deer wore day-to-day, it was still an uncommon sight and one almost never flaunted. But her tail was a flag calling his attention, and the young buck's wide eyes were fixed on the intimately plain view of her little pink star, his heart now beating strongly.

"Oh . . . yeah, they're pretty nice," he managed to respond, voice quaking.

His eyes dropped to the plump, downy-furred mound protruded between Clover's thighs, and as she leaned forward, a pair of supple lips emerged from its cleft. The pink flesh peeked timidly from the soft, white fur as the doe went about picking one mushroom, then another, placing each into her slowly filling basket. Bryn swallowed, one hand nervously fluffing the thicker fur of his chest; his penis hung long and pendulous, noticeably swollen at the provocative sight.

"We'll probably grill some of these tonight," Clover suddenly glanced back at her friend.

He froze, feeling her eyes upon him. No, please, this can't happen again . . . I can't keep getting these feelings. Clover's just a friend, and I don't have the right of dominance anyway. I just need to apologize to her and explain myself or something, I just need to . . . Clover's gaze rose to meet his, and while her muzzle was hidden, he saw the grin in her unflinching eyes.

"But you know," she continued, her ears a stronger shade of pink, "I think the best thing is to simmer them slowly. If you do that, they stay nice and juicy, and the flavor of the broth adds a little something."

She swayed idly from one leg to the other as she continued to uncover and pluck the succulent mushrooms, thighs and buttocks sliding tenderly against each other. The soft mound of Clover's vulva pressed plump between her thighs, and as the flesh of her lips re-emerged they seemed to blush an even warmer pink. Bryn's heart was pounding in his ears. Again, he drank in the sight, even as his mind raced. I'm NOT a dominant male. Cadogan would see me exiled for even thinking these things. I just need to tell Clover that I . . . I . . . Bryn felt himself growing dizzy, the heady display of the doe's vulva rousing urges in him he tried desperately to suppress, but he couldn't turn away. Her tempting lips seemed to swell and parted invitingly at the near corner, blooming to reveal even more supple, rosy flesh. The young buck swelled in response; his penis hung fat and long between his legs, pulsing with his heartbeat as it grew firmer, raised higher.

". . . and if you have a bunch of big ones, you can make a full meal of it. But I don't think I'd serve 'em without something sweet on the side . . ."

Bryn's mouth watered at the sweet sight of the girl's rump raised unabashedly high. Tail lifted happily, she made no attempt to hide herself in the company of her friend. She really did seem to feel at ease out here, and even the sight of her friend's arousal didn't give her cause to cover up. But now at full erection, Bryn's manhood curved proudly skyward; head engorged, a lustful drop of precum was already emerging from his tip. I can't do this . . . What if Cadogan . . . ? He suddenly struggled to think about the clan's presumed dominant male. His sun-kissed penis throbbed lewdly, spilling the fat drop from his tip, slippery fluid dripping a wet trail down his length. Were we just wild animals, he wished, But . . . He felt his heart pounding, his hand still nervously at his chest fur.

". . . of course, grilling them is just simpler . . ."

He could barely hear Clover's voice over his own heartbeat. His head was spinning . . . shallow breaths through his open mouth, tongue bathed in saliva . . . And she stood there in her naked display, grown up and unashamed, with nothing but the forest all around them, looking every bit in that moment like a wild deer. He put one foot ahead of the other, crunching softly in the pine needles. Speckles of sunlight danced over his tall antlers and the trail of desirous precum glistened along his erection as it bounced stiffly, standing long and firm, ready for mating. His large, masculine balls swung below, hanging loosely in their generous sac. Without realizing it himself, Bryn was the image of a dominant male and he lusted intensely for the young, slim doe. Catching the faint scent of her womanhood, he took another step closer. The objections rose in his mind only to be killed in the same moment. His meager thoughts and inhibitions gave way to sweet instinct. The pine needles crunched underfoot, one step after the another . . .

And suddenly he found himself very close to her. So close he felt the waves of heat coming off the bare skin of her inviting lips. Delicious agony.

"Bryn? Is everything--"

Clover gasped. In one motion, the buck settled his trembling hands on the curves of her hips and pressed his tip against the downy fur of her supple mound. She whipped her head around to see Bryn, her mouth agape, voice suddenly caught in her throat as the buck prodded at her firmly, repeatedly, hitting everywhere but his target. He seemed in a daze, huffing short breaths, eyes glazed over, prodding blindly--he gave in to the pull of his instincts and was now lost in them. With her free hand, Clover grabbed the tree to steady herself against the rising urgency of Bryn's animalistic humping. The head of his penis smooshed against the supple give of her vulva, dipping between her lips, riding along them to bump her clitoris, and smeared slippery strands of precum wherever he prodded.

Clover gasped again as the young buck's eager tip finally found its home in the dip of her mound. Feeling his target, Bryn grunted eagerly, squeezed his hands around the doe's waist, and humped at the opening between her swollen lips, feeling himself get wetter as he pressed deeper. His fear and uncertainty were far away, replaced by an urgent singleness of purpose; only the moment mattered, and as a grown male in his first rut the moment demanded that he feed his primal urge to mate. His mouth hung open, saliva dripping down his tongue and over the corner of his lips. He arched his strong, toned body dominantly over the girl, dwarfing her delicate frame, holding her waist for support. Clover's inner wetness mingled with the buck's own fluid and his penis was soon slick enough for the rim of his engorged head to pop inside her. Thrust by thrust, his shaft past her rosy lips, plunging deeper and deeper into the heat of the young doe's tight vagina as stronger and stronger waves of ecstasy washed over him. When his thighs finally smacked her buttocks and her entrance squeezed a firm ring around the hilt of his fully buried manhood, Bryn paused and moaned loudly, tensing at the sensation of his skin so intimately against hers. Clover was panting wildly in shock, heart pounding and muscles quivering, still unable to form any words while her friend's pulsing erection filled her.

The young male partially withdrew and bucked his hips instinctively to slam right back into the tight, young doe. Clover yelped and dropped her basket, grasping tightly around the trunk of the tree with both hands. Plump mushrooms tumbled out, scattering in the pine needles. Bryn quickly built up to a rapid, rhythmic thrusting, smacking firmly home with each stroke, utterly lost in the raw sensation of the little doe's juicy flesh. His plum-size balls hung heavily under their weight and were now swinging wildly between his muscular thighs, slapping again and again at the fluffy bed of Clover's pubic fur, eager to offer up their virile seed. With each thrust, the buck's engorged shaft emerged slathered in more and more of the doe's excited juices, shining in the sunlight, dripping sloppily into the pine needles below. He grunted shamelessly as the scent of their mingling fluids rose into the air. The rapid smacking of his body against hers echoed through the forest as the pair of childhood friends mated with vigorous abandon, like two wild deer.

Bryn's grunts mixed with heady whining as the euphoric heat intensified inside him, the sensation building toward a powerful climax. He bucked his hips more frantically, driving his length deep with each thrust, his tip planting eager, expectant kisses at the entrance to the young doe's womb. A desirous moan finally broke from the girl's delicate muzzle while her friend bumped again and again at the sensitive, fleshy ring with no sign of stopping. She suddenly gushed with new lubrication as she felt his penis teasing her womb with the promise of a deep and potent insemination. Her vagina squeezed a tight, intimate embrace around him, eager to receive his offering. In spite of it all, the doe retained some presence of mind.

"Bryn," she panted, "are you sure you want to . . . ?"

He barely heard the question; it was, in fact, no question at all. His instincts urged him on and the thought of stopping was an impossibility. The buck clenched his eyes and thrust deep inside the mounted doe as the waves of ecstasy crashed over him. Pressure built uncontrollably until finally a hot stream jetted up his length, erupting powerfully inside her. Spurt after spurt of the buck's thick, potent seed filled her as he thrust sharply, erratically, in the throes of orgasm, ensuring her womb would be bathed in his milky offering. He continued to thrust, grunting as he rode out the euphoric sensation, jets of fluid filling her completely, until globs of sticky, opalescent semen overflowed messily down the doe's puffy, blushing vulva.

As the waves settled and his hips slowed, Bryn looked down to meet Clover's eyes. He breathed heavily and wiped the saliva from his chin as his senses returned.

Clover was still clinging to the tree, utterly disheveled, but managed a smile. "I guess you _are_sure . . ."

Bryn managed to huff out a chuckle, looking down over the girl beneath him. The two lingered there for a moment in the quiet pine forest, connected intimately in the act of mating, no longer those white-speckled fawns playing adventurers and running around the woods, but grown deer. Bryn arched over her, bringing his muzzle close to hers, delicately touching nose to nose. His heart was beating strongly and she could still feel his pulse throbbing inside her. He moved closer, closing his eyes, and pressed his lips to hers. She leaned into him, caressing him sweetly in a long, tender kiss.

As Bryn pulled back, Clover's eyes seemed to sparkle and, for the moment, everything was just the way it should be. He felt neither fear nor regret. For all he cared, he was a dominant male, and Clover had willingly received him. Rising upright, he slowly backed out of his young mate, withdrawing his length to the pitter-patter of his plentiful semen spilling down her vulva into a milky pool on the forest floor. Her swollen lips clung to his girth, dragging over the wet flesh of his shaft as if begging for him to stay. Once free, his penis flopped heavily, drenched in their combined juices, slowly losing its erection as steamy seed continued to drool from his tip. Clover looked back at him curiously, both of them vulnerable, messy, and tender in very new, unexplored ways. Bryn was at once embarrassed by the lewd display of his dripping member, and delighted that he could share the new moment with this sweet, unjudging doe. He watched the globs of his seed still dripping from her and suddenly his stomach tightened.

"Umm . . . Clover?" regret inched its way back into his head.

"Yeah?"

"I--I got carried away. I shouldn't have . . ." he now found it difficult to speak plainly about what he'd just done so instinctively. "Shit. I shouldn't have cum in you, I should have pulled out." He nervously brushed his head fluff, starting to shake. "You even asked me if I was sure. It's--it's too late to do anything about it, I just . . ."

The doe was giving him time to speak, but he trailed off, noticing her persistent smirk. "Bryn, I'm not sorry about it." Her eyes met his directly, and after a pause she continued, "I'll be honest, I was a bit worried about what might happen this rut. Well, more than a bit worried. If I did have to get with Cad this season, I didn't want him to be my first, so . . . I'm happy this is how things went."

Bryn exhaled slowly and his stomach eased some. It relieved him to know he hadn't betrayed her friendship, especially now that he felt such a strange, new warmness toward her. Damp and disheveled, he felt beautifully open in their post-mating afterglow, and for the moment growing up was much less frightening and confusing. His eyes wandered easily over her spent body, then his own. He contemplated his damp, matted pubic fur and idly squeezed the last of the semen from his limp penis. The scent of their mating hung in the air.

"But . . ." he continued meekly, "I still came in you. It's not my right to--"

"Bryn, you need to relax!" she laughed, draping her arms lovingly over his broad shoulders. "I wasn't sure if you actually wanted to finish in me, but . . . I was hoping you might. I know you, and you're a good guy. Strong . . . kind . . . generous . . . If I'm gonna bear a child this season, I'd be much happier if it was a little Bryn, rather than a little Cadogan. Even if I'm the only one who knows it."

The young buck's mouth hung open. She's really serious about this. It wasn't just fooling around, she wanted me to mate with her for real. To get her pregnant. Like I really am dominant. Bryn struggled to make sense of what this meant, but he suddenly felt a lot more like the clan's true dominant male.

"So maybe now I won't have to carry Cad's fawn," Clover grinned, pressing her naked chest to his, their noses touching playfully and her nipples poking stiffly. "But just to make extra sure, we might need to try some more."