Now, this is a girl I love and a writer I love…
by Katrine Aziz
At the inurement of his adulthood, the stag was toothless. He had reached the edge of the open grassland. A path led from the sheltered sanctity of the undergrowth and into a widened space where he had learned to walk, to run, to graze. He had been unafraid for one year, even after the departure of his mother. But now that he knew what lay before him, monumental and threatening, there was no freedom. There was no success. The land in between was flat and vibrant.
His experiences had warned him, but never fully prepared him, for the moment that was about to begin. It was difficult to hold, in the mind of a youth, this thought that he must win his own future. It was his future. The buck was much older, and many stags had fought for her waning virility. She…
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