dapples

A tic crawled slowly across the fore of the deer’s right ear, along the thin pink skin and across the map of veins just visible beneath the surface. As the rustling leaves cast dark shadows into the valleys of the ear, the tic climbed over the edge and began its descent into thickly bristled hair. The deer’s ear twitched slightly, then stopped. His eyes were trailing the figures just above him on the hill. There were two girls and two boys, their bodies seeming to levitate from the angle of the deer’s crouch. They were perched on a rock, limbs folded, eyes seeking in the chaotic decoupage of the forest. Their laughter rang through the trees, skimming along the ridges of the bark and launching off again to burrow deep into the dirt below. The trees stood up a little bit straighter, it seemed to the deer. It was like rain had just fallen.

The earth was cool and covered with leaves. It smelled like mushrooms and the sweat of worms as they began to wriggle their way towards the spots in the dirt where the laughter had hit. The deer watched a plant sprout rise, slowly but steadily up through a spot where a high giggle had lodged in the dirt. A bright yellow bird landed on the lowest branch of a nearby tree and stared at the baby plant.

More laughter fell, tossed across the forest like seeds blown from a dandelion puff. It landed in clumps of voices and in single notes, sprouting flowers and color and life. The deer watched the four figures as they opened their mouths and tilted their heads – eyes scrunching with mirth and their bodies swaying in slow rhythms of ease. The deer remained low to the ground, the earth giving birth around him. When the tallest of the four figures stood to stretch long legs and crunch the leaves that lay slumbering on the ground below him, the deer fled.