I remember the first time I saw him—the Great Prince—standing tall on the ridge, his antlers cutting through the morning mist. I was just a fawn then, barely able to walk, clinging to my mother’s side. She warned me about Man, about silence, about fear. But I didn’t understand. Not until that day in the snow.

We were searching for food, the wind sharp against my fur. She told me to run. I didn’t see the hunter, only the flash, the sound like thunder. She didn’t get up.

I called for her. Over and over. The forest was so quiet.

Then he came—the Great Prince. He didn’t speak, just looked at me with eyes full of something I couldn’t name. Grief? Duty? He nudged me forward, leading me into the deep woods.

Now, seasons later, I stand where he once stood. Faline is near, safe. Our twins will be born soon. I hear a crack in the trees. Smoke on the wind.

Man is back.