The yearling white-tail buck came ambling towards the house. This is where his mother often brought him when she was still alive. She told him about how safe it was, and how all his worries could be taken care off. Being lost and having no clue how to get back to his home herd, Bramble found himself at the place of his earlier days.

A bit thin, but not too bad otherwise, Bramble stepped slowly to the side of the house. He nuzzled through some of the snow-covered perenials against the house and began to munch on the few peices that weren't killed by the cold yet. Where is thorn? Where's Wycliff? Where is the herd...? He thought dismally to himself, not quite sure how he ended up getting separated from them in the first place.

The piebald hind padded quietly into the yard, having little fear of humans. Behind her, Breen and Cardice, two other does, followed. Nettle, a white-lipped stag, had entered the yard a few meters away from the hinds. They were all serving as scouts, making sure that the place was safe to bring in the very ill Thorn.

The hind joined the group. She stopped a few paces from Wycliff and awaited the arrival of Thorn.

The small fawn was terribly weak by the time she reached the house. A small cry was released as she collapsed to the ground, the various cuts bleeding from the journey, the movement splitting open the scabs again. Her cry was to anyone, Wycliff or Orchid, someone who she felt safe with, her herd. She rested her head on the soft ground but didn't close her eyes incase she drifted off not to wake up again.

Bramble was nibbling absent-mindly at some of the dead perenial plants that he was laying amungst, against the house. The herbs were so strong and fresh in his nose, that he failed to scent his herd members when they arrived. But a cry alerted the yearling, and he sprang up, his big eyes looking around in surprise. "Mom!" Bramble cried out, springing from his hiding place and dashing towards her. Then he spotted Thorn, crumbled on the ground. "Thorn... what happened!" He asked, looking to the adults. The young buck nudged his friend, his eyes full of grief and worry.

She shuddered at Bramble touch and lifted her head to look at him through foggy eyes.

B-bramble?...

She let her head fall back the ground but her eyes watched her friend and she smiled weakly.