Falling With Style

Étaín & Ket

Summer, Year 756 of the New Age
Windborne, Cockle Bay Beach - Point Danger

---

Étaín

The sun was unbearable across her back, even the sweat dampening her coat and the ocean breeze did nothing to abate the burning touch of light. She was a big blocky dark doe, with a masculine profile that often had her mistaken for a stag. The single antler tine cast in ebony velvet growing from her forehead did nothing to dispel this typical first impression. It was already more than a foot long, and it would grow a few more inches yet this summer season.

Feathers coated her lower legs, long black mane and tail whipped around her as she moved, but her tattered ears were always focussed forward despite the distraction of flapping hair, her dark near-black eyes watching the feet of her opponent. They paced around each other, huffing, snorting, prancing. Occasionally one would dart in with a kick or a nip, the other squealing or retaliating in response. Though grueling, fighting on the soft sand was a relaxing pastime for the doe, and having a partner to match her in skill was a rare thing to find among the does of Point Danger.

The second doe was a bright gold, almost the colour of sand if it weren't for the darkening of her legs and tail. Her mane was short and stubby, and the dark doe Étaín envied the lack of hair to fall about her face while she sparred. Ket was a great deal smaller than Étaín, but they were evenly matched and they had churned the sand quite well in the hours they had been practicing. Étaín was about ready to call it for the afternoon before evening set in, but even though it was a friendly spar, she was reluctant to be the one to stop.

Dipping her head as if to charge with her horn, the dark grullo doe threw her head back at the last moment and lifted her forelegs, aiming to barge her sparring partner with knees or chest. She rarely used her horn in battle, and especially not in summer while it was still sensitive with velvet and easily damaged. Once the vascular skin shed before rut, it would be a formidably sharp weapon of last resort. It was not the sort of rack that could be tackled and held. Too easily did it slip past the defences of a properly-racked stag and cause vast damage, sometimes fatal. One well-placed attack and she was sure she could pierce the heart of an enemy if she had the mind for it and against a raging stag in rut, sometimes that was almost too tempting.

---

Ket

The light reflected off the surface of the ocean with the white hot, retina-searing intensity of a thousand freaking suns. Or that's how it felt to Ket at least, as she was forced to stare intently at the black mass that was her opponent. A moment of carelessness while sparring with Étaín could have dire consequences; namely, losing. And that simply was not acceptable, according to her pride.

So instead, the little sooty doe endured and did her best to stay light on her toes, despite the deep sand making any sudden movements all the more difficult. She sprang and danced alongside her comrade, feigning and darting to the best of her abilities, and testing those of Étaín. The dark doe was larger by all definitions, and knew how to use that to her advantage, making Ket work and sweat. Maybe a little too much, after you factored in the fact they'd been at this for hours, now.

With the last big rush by Étaín, Ket had finally run out of steam, and was plowed into with what felt like the same unforgiving intensity as a raging elephant. The force whiplashed her back, and she tumbled backwards into the sand like some brand of comical tumbleweed, her legs and tail akimbo as she rolled.

When her world had ceased its inner tailspin, she found herself prone on her side, her nose pressed hard into the sandy beach. Ket coughed, once, and mentally appraised her body, one limb at a time. When she was reasonably certain nothing was broken, she heaved herself up into something of a sitting position, her weight on the dock of her tail, with hind legs were splayed and her forelegs supporting her balance. "I think you won." she chittered dazedly, her purple eyes unfocused.

---

Étaín

She didn't expect to really hit her companion. Usually she was able to dart out of the way - Étaín's attacks were slow and lumbering in comparison to the quick-footed doe - but whether it was the heat, the slippery sand or waning stamina, that wasn't the case this time. The palomino doe stumbled and hit the sand with a solid woof of breath.

Étaín caught herself before her forward momentum could carry her over the downed doe, and she craned her neck down, breath heaving with exertion. She huffed at Ket's observation, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before it was gone again. She gave the doe room to sit, and simply stood with her head lowered to Ket's eye-line. "You box like a roo buck, Ket," she said by way of a compliment, her voice a tired rumble. "Even if you are the size of a joey," she huffed, and there might have been a smile glittering in her dark eyes even if there wasn't a trace of it on her face.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over the doe with a critical eye. She needed fighters like Ket, especially when Autumn closed in, and she should be careful who she was throwing her weight around with. Windbornes were a small breed at best, and Ket was smaller than most. Étaín was a good two or three heads taller, and even a good fighter like Ket was victim to a heavy blow like that. They shouldn't have sparred for so long - to suffer an injury could be the end of either of them in this environment and it had been irresponsible to continue when they were so tired - but it had been an experience, and more than a little fun.

---

Ket

Ket stared up at the darker doe for a long, appraising moment before shaking her head like a wet dog, presumably to rattle her brains back into order. "I'm fine," she assured her friend in a chipper tone, hauling herself to her feet with a huff of effort. "Though I may be sore in the mornin'. Felt like I got run over by a whole herd." She flashed a toothy smile, to let Étaín know she was exaggerating... just a bit.

Standing still took its toll fairly quickly. Now that she wasn't preoccupied with getting out of the freaking way, as she had the entirety of their sparring sessions, Ket could feel the exhaustion for the first time. "Eehhh, I vote we wait a few days before trying this again," she gave Étaín a sidelong glance, and slyly added, "Unless we want to try to get some of the other does in shape."

The fact was, the other does were sorely lacking in the fitness department, and Ket was worried for them - as was Étaín, she was certain. "We need to get things in gear," Ket murmured with a new weight in her voice, her gaze drifting off toward the Bay, so she wouldn't have to watch Étaín directly. "There's no way we can protect the herd or - dare I say it - go on the offensive as we stand today."

---

Étaín

Étaín raised her head as much as she could manage. Now that the adrenaline was fading, she could feel her muscles quivering with the effort just to stand. She returned Ket's sideways glance; combined they were insufferably stubborn, but she hadn't felt this satisfied with a sparring session in a long time. But she agreed with a nod, it would take her those few days to recover.

The matter of training the other does was never far from her mind though. It was a constant worry that the Splinter Herd on Point Danger would be disbanded before their dreams could even take wing. They were fledgling wishes, hopes and desires that just needed to learn how to fly. They were few in number, and even fewer of them had any fighting experience. Étaín and Ket were two of a kind, never truly accepted from birth and so when word of the does on Point Danger reached them, it was a natural solution to find what they had long suffered without: acceptance.

For Étaín, the herd had been a chance to use everything she had been born with. Rather than being shunned for height and apathetic disposition towards stags, she was valued for it here. Until she arrived here, she had not realised just how much she needed to feel useful. Protecting these does gave her life a purpose that she had been lacking for a long time. Now after a few years on Point Danger, her life was almost complete. She had friends, she had acceptance, and the only thing she was missing now was what the group yearned for. Equality.

Windbornes were proud of their ancestors, the great Duathail founded the herd on this island after he tamed the weather, supposedly having come here to escape the oppression of the mainland. She knew stories of each of the herds residing there, but it was the whispers of the Blackwoods that she had always perked an ear for. Long had it been muttered behind her back of her parentage, how her father had been some great beast of a stag who claimed and discarded her Windbourne mother before Étaín had been born. Her mother had done nothing to dispel the gossip, so Étaín did not refute it. It made sense - how else did she tower above the rest of the Windbornes?

Blackwoods were known for their brutality, their fighting prowess, and their blood thirsty rituals. They were the most feared among the herds, more so than the underhanded Oakferns. But Étaín did not yearn to hear more of them because of how they were feared, she wanted to know more about how they respected their does. Blackwood had a Queen to rule alongside their King, she would even rule in his stead if he were killed. Windbornes talked of freedom, but really they were not so different from all the other herds. Étaín would never admit it out loud, but she aspired to bring those Blackwood sensibilities - about Kings and Queens, at least - to Windborne.

It was the ultimate irony that Windborne prided themselves for their lack of true laws, on their adaptability, yet they were so unyielding to accept a doe to lead alongside their King. Ket was right, they would need to work hard to get their position solidified. The herd was at risk being stationary, every stag would know where they were come Autumn, but they were just not well guarded enough to pursue a nomadic life. They needed what little protection Point Danger provided.

The name was an apt one; young sharks idled under the mangroves in the swamps closest to the sea, and saltwater crocs could remain unseen in the dark inland waters until it was far too late. Snakes and insects with deadly bites were par for the course on the isle of Windborne, not to mention the elusive and rare marsupial tiger that could attack during the night. It seemed as if any place would be safer, but it was the tactical advantage of the island geography that had drawn the does there.

Separating the Point from the island was a strip of sandy banks called The Spit. At high tide, the water kept any curious stag from getting to the Point, and at low tide there was only a narrow gap of land that they could storm the island from. This made it easier for Étaín and the others to defend the herd with their lesser numbers from that stags that inevitably came.

With so few numbers, it was unlikely she'd ever see an army made of the Point Danger does, not in her lifetime. It was likely their dreams would take years to come to pass. The mind of a King was not easily swayed, let alone his entire nation. It would take a King to convince them that they needed a Queen, and in Étaín's mind that was defeating the point - they were still bowing to their King over their Queen. It had to be a mutual gain for everyone for it to count.

Regardless of if they went on the offensive or continued on the defensive, they needed to bolster their numbers. Étaín was loathe to admit it, but there was one thing stags were good for, and that she and no other doe could do without them; creating life. A doe might be the one to carry, birth and raise the child, but it was the inherent equality in nature that made stags just a much a part of a foal's creation. Why then did no stag realise this? Without does, they would not exist. Without does, their kind would not continue to exist. The large doe sighed. Sometimes it seemed the battle was lost before it begun.

"Defend the Spit and we defend the Point," she replied, her gaze crossing Ket's as she looked down the beach to the shimmering wet sand just beginning to peek above the tideline. "Perhaps tomorrow we'll hold some... less exuberant sparring sessions for the younger does - they need to know how to defend themselves." She didn't say it aloud, but they would need to be able to try if the stags somehow got past her and Ket. A stag in rut was a mindless creature, and all the does were in danger should one make it onto the Point next season.

"Tide's going out," she said, looking to her companion, "I should check on the does watching the Spit... are your legs up for a walk with me?" It might take time and it would take effort, but at least with Ket by her side, there was more than a glimmer of hope for the does of Point Danger. She didn't have to fly these dreams alone, and that counted more to the doe than the dreams themselves.

---

Ket

Ket stood quietly with Étaín, comfortable in her companion's silence and her own muddled contemplations. Although many of the thoughts that flitted to the forefront of her mind were not her own and only half-formed inner squabbles, she had learned long ago how to shove them aside in order to think clearly; she was happy to be here, standing exhausted and sweating on this bit of beach beside the dark doe she so admired. She mused briefly if she would have been as happy had she remained with the main herd, beneath the King.

Her heart roared with a defiant "NO!"

But what logical thought processes she still possessed whispered... "Maybe, had you not lost your foal and your mind."

Ket gave a little bouncing shiver, shoved the thought away hastily, and turned back to Étaín as the doe began to speak, her pupils contracted by anxiety, but her body language otherwise conveying a confident, if somewhat exhausted, carriage. "Lead the way," the sooty little doe murmured kindly, "I'll follow you anywheres."

The truth of that statement rang clearly through Ket's addled mind, effectively crushing any inky black doubts that had seeped into her heart.

THE END