Brittle is winter's approach. The air growing colder and the skies looking grimmer. It was one of the few times in which herds gathered together, and a seemingly peaceful confrontation emerged. His first Festival of Elkmire. Though as he approached and broke through the borders of Brushvield, there was no one to be found. The sun was still lingering at the horizon as it settled. The stars blinking faddily as they began to grow strength to glow stronger for the night. A snort fell from the buck's nostrils as he tilted his head slightly to the side. All the stories he was told, and this was it? 

Aolis. One day when you are chased from us, beginning your own journey, the days of Elkmire will quickly fall upon you. It is a beautiful and magical experience. An experience that will be etched into your mind forever. Each year will be different as the stars will grant wishes of new during this time. Be well to the stars, for this is their time to shine. And when the time comes and you are called to the fields of Brushvield, it will be your time as well. The stars favor us, our herd, our lineage. Your antlers will glow more brightly than ever as the stars burn in the sky to song and dance. 

It was still early apparently though. His ears flicked as he remained still, searching for any life that may appear. A doe stood walking towards the gathering spot. As others too now begun to poke through into the open space. A breath of relief exhaled from his lungs as he grew a faint smile. With the sun setting quickly and the star began to glow brighter, so did his antlers begin to glow ever so softly. Dim, for now, they would soon glow brighter as the night and the stars grew on. He kept his distance from the does. He knew they would most likely not be interested in him. He lowered his head as he took a taste of the dying grass. 

"Talking text."