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Tobias and his father walked down that old, familiar, well-worn path through the woods that they walked every so often. His father insisted that they do this even if the time was spent lecturing Tobias on his shortcomings, or, as his father put it, "being a respectable and responsible father." Tobias always tagged along, even if the conversation was a little less pleasant than he hoped for, trying to be the good son that he knew he was. Today, however, there wasn't much in the way of exchanging of words as they wandered through the yellowing trees, enjoying the lightly and sparsely falling leaves signaling the transition from summer to autumn and the warm late-summer breeze rustling through the leaves in a warm silence. Tobias however didn't particularly enjoy the silence. In fact, it worried him slightly.

"Father," he said, the worry clear in the strain in his voice.

"You know, I've watched you grow up, Tobias," his father said gruffly, but shortly, clearing his throat. "I was there when you were born, helped raise you ever since you were just a fawn. I've watched you grow, helped guide you as best I could, loved you like I can. And I have to say, you have grown very well so far."

Tobias knew that his father had a tendency to ramble on and reminisce, which always bemused the young pronghorn. He had yet to understand why his father liked to do that as of yet, but he understood well enough that his father always had a point to them. Today, he did not particularly want to listen to his father speak in riddles and metaphors. "Father," he protested quietly, as respectfully as he could, even though he really didn't want to try, "Can you skip the whole rambling and explain what you're trying to get at?" "Patience, my son," he said seriously. "Patience is a virtue, virtue a grace."

"Both put together make a very pretty face," Tobias finished rolling his eyes slightly at the silly rhyme.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is - I'm proud of you Tobias."

Tobias had not been expecting that. His father was always so gruff and stern, always so quick to point out his and his older brother's flaws, that it sometimes seemed like it was impossible to imagine him capable of such emotions. But if he thought about it hard enough, Tobias had to admit that what his father admitted was true. If he didn't feel that way, why would he bother with pushing him and his brother the way he did?

"Aw," Tobias said, at a loss for words. "Thank you, father."

"As I said, you are growing up," his father pushed on, clearly not finished with the conversation.

Tobias resisted the urge to feel the budding horns on his head. They had started showing themselves a week ago, much to the pleasure of his mother and father, and the amusement of his older brother. His brother jokingly called him "Budder," in reference to the mix of his budding horns and them being siblings, and the name stuck, to the dismay of Tobias. He touched the top of his head and felt the ivory antler buds still there, slowly growing like a pair of teeth out of the top of his head, which was how he thought of them.

His father seemed to know what he was thinking about. "Yes. Your horns are coming in. That is another stepping stone in your journey to becoming a true gentleman."

Tobias gave his father a quick sideways look but said nothing. He always hated hearing the "gentleman talks" his father had with his seemingly "rebellious" older brother. Now it appeared that those were going to start with him too.

"There is nothing more important to a pronghorn than his horns. They are your most treasured valuable Tobias. And as such, you need to take good care of them."

"You do?" he asked, confused. "I thought that they just sat on top of your head all day."

"They do sit on your head, but they also distinguish you - it is your signature, your legacy, and your most prized asset. One must make sure such things look like they are valued, no?"

"I guess," Tobias muttered. "I mean, yes, father," he quickly said at the flat stare he got from his father.

"Good. Now, you must wash your horns everyday to make sure they always look clean. You would be surprised at how quickly your horns can discolor if you fail to do that."

"So, you have to wash them," Tobias said quietly.

"And not only that. You have to buff them."

"Buff them? What does that even mean, father?"

His father sighed. "Always so inquisitive. That could be a troublesome habit for you, Tobias," he warned.

"I just wanna know, is all," Tobias said, kicking at some leaves in the pathway.

"I know," his father said, less severely. He cleared his throat and continued, "Buffing your horns is where you take a special shaped brush and scrub them nice and hard, rather like brushing your teeth."

"Oh," said Tobias, wondering why his father had to use the reference to teeth. They really were like teeth, weren't they? They grew in as you grew up, they hurt when they grew in and surfaced, you had to clean them and brush them to keep them from becoming discolored or worse, and they were required to look good in public. Indeed they were like teeth, Tobias decided.

"A final thing that will help with keeping them looking good and gentleman-like is to polish them once a week."

Tobias was surprised. Polish your horns? That sounded absurd! Why would a gentleman polish his horns?

But before he could ask about that, his father answered. "You know the polish your mother sometimes puts on her hooves?"

Tobias nodded, letting his father run his long-winded course to the answer. His father made a great lecturer, and explained why he was a reverend at the town's church.

"Well, the polish that a gentleman puts on his horns is a completely transparent version of that. It protects the horns from dust and dirt and mud, should a situation involve them arise. It also gives a little extra shine to them, makes them look well-kept."

"Ah," said Tobias. "I see." And he did. Caring for his horns was a big responsibility. But it made sense, did it not? Growing up meant responsibility and, in turn, respectability.

"I want you to remember something, son," his father said suddenly, looking at him straight in the face and stopping for the first time this whole conversation.

Tobias also stopped walking, alerted by the sudden change in his father's tone and behavior. "Yes, father?"

"I want you to remember that taking care of your horns is more than just being a respectable gentlemen. Your horns are not just some decorative addition to your head. They are a part of you ad reflect who you are on the inside. That is why it is important to keep your horns in good shape."

Tobias had a lot to mull over as they made the walk back to the house in silence.