Deer and Snow

The first real gusts of Winter had made its way from up North of the continent to the lower central coasts, the first snowflakes of the season falling over unprepared villages and expectant Loshenkas.

The previous weeks had been rather warm for the time of the year, the Loshenkas slightly struggling with their now generous coat to resist the cold temperatures. Now, as the temperatures had rapidly dropped back to the usual for the season, they were all acting rather fresh and lively.

Canigó loved the cold, he was all for it and all it brought with it. The frost, the snow, the ice… the white and grey landscapes he so much longed for throughout the year to return… He only felt true to being himself when the snow and cold took over the Earth, where nature fell silent and the whole world seemed to go for a long sleep. He would wander in the mountains, following and tracing the paths that were well known to him by now, delighting in the muted crunches of the frozen ground under his strong hooves, with the glistening veil of white spreading slowly and quietly across the land.

Canigó was a Loshenka stallion built for Winter. His tobiano painted coat over a black base had grown dense underhair in the past weeks, giving him the look of a Loshenka ready to tackle even the harshest cold. His warm puffs of breath seemed to blend into the pale air, floating like small ghosts before vanishing in the cold air. As he continued to walk, the snow did not seem to bother him; rather, it actually seemed like it was energizing his steps, inciting Canigó to keep on exploring his surroundings.

The morning had begun rather lazily, the sky heavy with clouds, although the Loshenka still felt hopeful to enjoy a few sunrays. The first snow of the year always seemed to carry a special silence with it, a quiet hush that settled over the land, and muffled even the smallest of sounds.

The stallion had left early that morning, and was now standing at the edge of his usual mountain trail. He looked up, appreciating the snowflakes lazily drifting to the ground. They were still small, delicate as tiny feathers. Although there were very few for now, the snowflakes promised more to come. Much more. The Loshenka stallion could almost feel the storm forming beyond the horizon, his ears twitching, aware of the slightest shifts in the wind. He flicked his voluminous tail, thinking of what he should do in the colder hours to come.

He decided to continue ahead, following the ridge that wound along the upper slopes of the hills bordering the valley. Canigó looked down at the valley, dotted with clusters of naked trees, frozen shrubs, and dark patches of exposed soil. He knew that the landscape would be soon changing, covered by a thick, white blanket. For now though, Winter was nothing but painting its first strokes on its canvas.

Canigó’s strides were sure and steady, despite the narrow path he was following. He loved this part of the mountain, remote enough that only the hardiest creatures could roam. The high altitude made the wind his constant companion, the gusts reshaping the landscape and making it different year after year. 

The stallion lowered his head, smelling the hidden scents in the snow, beneath the frost, of those who’d come before. Pine resin, frozen leaves, cold stone… Those were the scents of the land. But there was a soft lingering trace of an animal as well. His breath puffed warmly against the snow, melting the tiny indentations into the surface.

Something in the periphery caught his attention. Not a sound, not exactly. It was more like a disruption in the quietness. He raised his head and prickled his ears forwards, his eyes narrowing down as he scanned the valley below.

It took Canigó a couple breaths to identify them. Across the stretch of rolling frozen earth, near a line of sparse grove of birch trees, there was something moving. It was more than just one creature, it would be too big if that was not the case. The Loshenka stallion kept observing whatever they were, until he recognized what they were in a breath. He was looking at a herd of deer.

The deer looked like shadow spirits from afar, their soft brown and muted coats blending into the colors of the Winter canvas. Canigó kept on watching them, their gentle movements making them stand out. He seemed captivated by the deer, there was a serenity to them that reminded him of snow falling. They were usually calm and delicate, yet fleeting if they were disturbed. He had encountered solitary deer before on his winter wanderings. He had sometimes found a pair of them, another time a single stag that had seemed to have lost his herd, but he had never found a whole herd this close on the trails before.

Bigger snowflakes had begun to fall, few of them sticking to the Loshenka’s tail. A few does led the herd through the frosted grass, their steps so soft that they barely stirred the powder snow. Two younger does followed the adults, their steps more playful, less discreet than the adults. At the back of the group, the biggest stag Canigó had ever seen overlooked the herd, he walked tall and poised, his antlers rising like branches of a tree.

The Loshenka stallion knew that the herd would not spot him easily, he was way too far from them to pose a threat, and his coat conveniently camouflaged him with the ridge. He remained still, observing how the herd weaved through the birch grove, pausing here and there to nibble on the little forage that remained. The snow wasn’t deep enough to bother them, but Canigó knew that even the deer were aware that harsher days were approaching.

Canigó’s curiosity made him want to get closer to the herd, not to meet the deer, but to observe from up close. He knew that if that huge stag deemed him as a threat, he would have to run, a lot, before he would be safe, and he honestly wasn’t in a mood to be running around.

While he was debating what to do, the wind shifted around Canigó. His attention shifted from the valley to the peaks for a short moment, but as the huge gust of wind swept through the valley, his eyes were again on the herd. Snow was lifted from the tree branches and sent it swirling around. The deer seemed slightly startled, but quickly returned to foraging as the gust passed.

Once the herd quieted down, the Loshenka stallion decided it would be best for him to get down the ridge before the storm arrived. Just like him, the herd seemed to also decide to look for shelter, heading to the northern part of the valley, where the ground dipped downwards into a sheltered hollow. Canigó recognised the herd of deer was smart, that spot was one of the best spots to take cover in a storm. He followed the same direction as them for a bit, but soon he had to take a different trail that would take him further away. The stallion paused for a moment to observe how the herd became smaller, until they were no more than a small dot moving into the safety of the hollow.

Canigó quickened his pace as he headed down the ridge, now focusing on his own journey down the valley. As he moved down the ridge, he thought about the herd, wondering if, after the storm had passed, he should go and check they were alright. He would for sure not get too close to that huge stag, but he certainly would like to befriend him if there was a chance.