Summer filled the meadow with clover and tall flowers. Bambi played there with Faline and Gobo. They chased one another through the grass, leapt over ditches, and listened to Friend Hare’s stories, which always grew longer whenever anyone looked impressed.
One morning the young deer heard a deep rustling. A group of stags entered the meadow. Their antlers flashed above the grass, and Bambi watched in awe.
Then the old stag appeared.
The others gave him space. He crossed the open ground alone, calm and watchful. When Bambi tried to follow, his mother drew him back.
“He walks alone because he knows when company is dangerous,” she said.
As summer faded, the forest changed its voice. Jays cried from one tree to the next. Pheasants burst from cover without warning. New smells clung to paths where no animal had walked.
At dawn one day, Bambi and his mother reached the meadow. She stepped out, then froze.
Every bird had fallen silent.
Across the grass stood a figure on two legs. Bambi had heard the animals speak of Him, but had never seen Him before. A sharp scent rode the air.
His mother sprang back. “Run!”
A crack split the meadow. Gobo stumbled. Aunt Ena and Faline crowded around him while Bambi’s mother drove them towards the trees. Another crack came, and bark flew from a trunk beside Bambi.
He ran blindly until he could no longer hear the shouting or the dogs.
“Mother?”
No answer.
Then the old stag stood before him. “Your mother has no time for you now,” he said. “Can you not stay alone?”
The words stung, but Bambi stopped calling. He listened. Far away, a jay gave the all-clear.
His mother found him at dusk and covered his face with kisses. Aunt Ena arrived with Faline, but Gobo was not with them. He had fallen behind in the danger.
Nobody knew whether He had taken him or whether he lay hidden somewhere in the wide, dark forest.
The End