The doe looked about her forest, and called to all of her kin. They looked up at the hole where the Moon once was, their mouths gaping stupidly. The doe found herself capable of complex thought, and wished to speak to all her kind. But they were stupid, and knew not how to speak. So she invented language, and gave it to the deer.

She gave language to all the forest, hoping that they could co-exist, but that was impossible. So when her people came, begging her to help them, she gave them magic. The deer used their magic to chase off the predators, until only a handful of wolves remained. The doe warned not to kill all the predators, for if they did the balance would be upset.

But the deer did not listen, and the doe could not take her magic back. So she made the wolves large and strong, and then not even the deer could chase them away. As the doe grew older, she watched as nature tried to heal itself. The wolves became desperately inbred, and the deer had abandoned their old sylvan ways.

The old doe died, and in her place grew a white oak tree with stunning red leaves. She died with the hope that one day the magic would fade out of the world, so that it may return to how it once was.

The End?