It was a cold morning. It was a wet morning. It was just a continuation of the other day, where upon Louis first met eyes with a beautiful, mysterious creature of the wilds. His dark, deep blue hoodie was up, covering that hopeless ratty mess of blonde hair, his muck stompin' hoof boots were laced and tight, and he was ready and rarrin' for another adventure in the woods of suburbia. 

	Like a watched pot on the stove, Louis' attention fell to his right wrist. Every fifteen seconds, he glanced at the digital counter, trying to pinpoint the exact moment in which anything, 'funny' might occur. Nothing, so far. Not a blip, not a shudder, not even a premature beep by the audio chips inside. No sign of a repeat of the mysterious phenomena of the other day. Just more humid, cool rain, coming down like the fat tears of giant babies, slapping the wet, green and brown earth with their cascade of white noise. Mayhaps, it just need more depth. 

	Was she a dream? 

	It was a question that gnawed uncomfortably at the back of his mind. Louis had only in his life seen her the one time, that he could remember, and only after an unusually long time spent wandering the trees and grass. But as he passed road after road of the distant suburban neighborhoods that were separated by large gaps of trees, forest and waters, he started to lose faith in his own memories. There was no way what he remembered could've happened- it wasn't but twenty minutes jogging before he split the tree line for the next road. Right where it should be, but exactly where his memories said civilization shouldn't be. Yet, he knew without failure these paved roads and this sleepy little 'burb had been there and erect since before he was born. The wilderness stretching out into the infinite was the outlier, here. Not the homes, not the roads, not the literal signs of life. From picnic tables and trash in the ditches, to the Xing, Stop and Blind Drive indicators. 

	From a purely logical, material perspective, what he experienced was impossible. The geography left no room for rolling hills of trees and grass and dirt, freshly thawed from winter's grasp. By all rights, he could've only been exaggerating to himself exactly how far he traveled, how fast. It was no wonder, then, that a mere six minutes had passed since he'd decided to run back in. Any other explanation defied reason and probability. Every time he passed by a new, cookie cutter and standardized sidewalk made distinct and different only by the diversity of trash and the wabi sabi of mismatching stones embedded in the cement and concrete, the unique imperfections of the blocks and bricks, did he know he wasn't just walking passed the same manmade edifice, over and over again. 

	Some were shiny with quartz crystal impurities. Some had coinage stuck in them, and signs of peny pinching skinflints trying to remove them to no avail. Some had red splotches, some had salt marks. Some even were freshly violated by amateur grafitti artists, though given their recent appearance, it was an ongoing war. That danged super S didn't just paint itself. (Did it?) Louis finally stopped as he came to the natural, ominous ending point to his nature walk; an overhead bridge for train tracks, with a nine foor clearance for the electric-diesel challenged. In theory, the underpass could allow bigger vehicles to squeeze through, but so far none had gambled and won.

	Louis touched the space where the guard rail for the road and the side of the underpass met, turning back around and gazing out over the lake they'd built the tracks over. It was a long since decommissioned railway track, but the trusses and rails still held strong, despite the seasons weathering. Why, he didn't know. He didn't imagine the bums taking it upon themselves to sneak out every night and give them a fine grain sandpapering, or gangs of WD-40 bearing rapscallions giggling madly as they weatherized and maintained the infrastructure. Maybe they just built'em to last, back in the day. Maybe it was just luck. Gazing out towards his left where the overpass pointed with the train tracks, he wondered what lay beyond. He'd never bothered to walk this far from home, before. Not in this direction, at any rate. But, lately he was doing many things that before he hadn't. Why stop here?

	And then he heard the giggle. A familiar, feminine sound, from above. 

	Louis gazed upwards. Staring at him from above with her long, blonde hair hanging down passed her shoulders, her arms folded while she leaned against the guard rails of the train rail bridge, was she. The doe. The hind. Naked as a jaybird, pert breasts that Louis still couldn't place as just lithe or prepubescent, hanging different with gravity through her fur. Her fur, that gleamed slightly differently in this daytime light, so close to an urban center. Bright, direct light really brought out the reflective, blonde hues, but less direct angles showed her hide as sandier, browner, with hints of beige or graduating copper reds. Staring straight down at him, the updraft of the breeze billowing her hair in all manner of directions. If he froze the frame of that moment to still for an instant, it'd almost look as though she had antlers, like a buck. Infinitely patient, just gazing down at him with a Puckish, mysterious expression on her face.

	Before he could think to speak, she reminded him again. A finger to her lips, a gesture Louis could hear in his mind without her having to utter a single sound from her mouth, and the message was clear. Again, no talking. Even though he had a million questions, among them: Why the heck was she naked, outside of her forest? Or, at least, in public? The more he DIDN'T ask these questions, the more he was forced to answer them himself. He supposed if he was some sort of fairy, he'd flounce around naked as a jaybird as he pleased, himself. Still, his reasons weren't guaranteed to be HER reasons. 

	Opening her hand, she beckoned for him to join her up on the rail bridge. A cursory glance at the road leading under the railway bridge showed it curved- probably leading to a steep way up there. Convenient, but also, distant. And that was inconvenient. Louis' solution was instead to put his hands on the side of the railway bridge's support at the base, plant his booted feet against the thing and start climbing his way upwards, on the near vertical, ever so slightly slanted face. A decision which rewarded him with an open mouthed, incredulous expression by the golden hind, lidding her eyes and slumping her shoulders in pensive discontent.

	In short order, Louis' sure foot swing over the guard rail, standing up on it in precarious balance and folded his arms as he stood on top of it before her, striking a Superman pose. His little tail wagged behind him, fueled by his pride. She said nothing, just glowered displeasure at his choice and offered a hand to him with a kind of urgency of a big sister, minding a younger sibling that just wouldn't act right. She couldn't be too mad at him. Still, for this fleeting moment, Louis could read the concern and displeasure on her expression. Not a word was exchanged, but he'd seen that look far too many times before not to understand exactly how the dam of her vow of silence was tested by the high waters of his shenanigans. 

	Taking her hand, he hopped off to stand beside her with a crunch of fine sand and dirt beneath his hoof boots. A dissenting, caprine bleat from his throat, and an unapologetic smile and bat of his eyes at her. He didn't say it, but he certainly thought it; She was pretty when she was nonverbally concerned. 

	Rolling her eyes, the contentment of her smile soon resolidified to her cheeks. Releasing his hand, she turned on her fine hoof and started to walk across the trusses of the railroad bridge, towards the forest. Naked as she was, Louis' eyes were unavoidedly drawn to her back, thighs and rump. It couldn't be said she was a voluptuous girl, not thick, not 'thicc,' but a fine girlish beauty. Again, Louis could not place what age she was supposed to be. She could've been anything, from thirteen to a vibrant and youthful thirty, and look exactly the same. Were these the budding curves of a girl preparing for womanhood, or a woman that never lost the puppyfat and remained just round and bouncy enough to be slender and curved, at the same time? He didn't know. It was a fine blend. Appreciable, but not his first tastes. Louis preferred things a little.. rounder. But beauty was beauty. His higher functions told him so, as did his base urges. 

	And for his gawking, it earned him the wiggle of her tail. Only after a quarter minute of walking did Louis realize the sounds of metal striking metal with gentle thuds as they walked. Initially he assumed it to just be the noise made when feet stepped over railroad tracks, but then he realized his boots weren't similarly making them. And his friend's hooves made them, whether she stepped on the pressure treated wood of the trusses, or the rails. A kind of metallic, bronze ding. A high noise. A barely audible, beautiful singular ring. His ears perked, and once aware of the sounds, flicked each time one made contact with the earth and rang out its quiet, telltale sound. An action that did not go unnoticed, as she turned her head back, gazed at him with her peripheral vision and smiled. She knew, he knew. And now, he knew that she knew he knew.

	The sounds of the ringing got closer together, as she picked up her pace. The distance between them grew, as her strong, athletic legs moved quicker. It was a miracle that her long, unkempt hair didn't present a bigger problem of wind resistance than it did, Louis thought. He had no choice, he had to increase his rate of walking to keep up with her. As they walked across the railroad bridge nearing the halfway mark to the other side, she giggled and again increased speed. What before was a powerful walk became an impossibly graceful skip, as she moved from that five foot distance, threatening to gain passed a ten, then twelve..

	It was a game of keep-up. Louis was no slouth in the game of life, even if he was loathe to do much more than cursory participation in gym class. Unashamedly, Louis kicked it into the next gear, closing the distance again. Another giggle, more bounce of hair, fur and the balance of feminine fat over muscle, and the equilibrium was restored. At this pace, it wasn't long before they cleared the railroad bridge to run across the tracks on the pebble covered railway. This surprised Louis. Why was this creature, this entity of nature, sticking to the railroad tracks? And again, her face peeked around her right to gaze back at him with that playful, knowing gaze. Once more, her pace increased, and she began to pull away from him. The ringing of her hooves more constant, louder now that they were away from civilization. It almost sounded like she were wearing simple bells on her shoes. But there was nothing there but naked, bronzed doe feet. 

	Louis kicked it into the next gear, going from a casual jog to a more serious run. He had no choice, he'd simply have to breathe heavier to keep up. Slowly, but surely, he eased up behind her, coming upon close enough to touch that perpetually wagging doe tail. A good view of the naked buttocks in motion as they thundered down the tracks. 

	It was not but seconds after, when the hind's behind kicked into the next gear. Pulling away and ahead of Louis, she bleated her noise. Her exotic, alien cervine noise, long hair billowing behind her like a battle standard blowing in the breeze, whipping around. Foot by foot, yard by yard, metric unit by metric unit, that she left the distance to touch. Louis couldn't have that, even as his lungs started to burn. Her hide was shiny, doused in what he could only presume to be sweat or, more probably, the rain, glistening and glossy. They'd been running for nearly twenty minute straight by now, and anyone would be a bit sweaty from that. He had to seal this deal, and quickly, if he wanted to catch her. Because that was the objective of this game, right?.. He thought it was.

	A conscious effort, as he poured his heart and soul into his mighty legs. Hitting the afterburners on his muscles, sucking in breaths as quickly as his aerobic muscles could utilize them in a burst of sprinter speed, he reached out with a warm hand in the noonday sun to reach for that alluring little tail. 

	Just to catch nothing, as she pulled ahead an entire yard, instantly, before resuming that normal run. Gazing back at him from her left side, now, Louis could see a playful kind of patronization levied at him, as she moved her arms and kept pace. Maintaining this rate of speed was unsustainable, and he knew it.. But maybe, just maybe.. just five percent more would clinch the deal? His thighs burned with lactic acid as proteins burnt up in the furnaces that were his thighs and hips, propelling him forwards in a second by second regaining on her. His muscles were screaming at him, his glutes felt like rubberbands that'd been drawn taut too rapidly and too often. But flattening his hand, he made ready to plant a little swat on that glorious, tan asscheek.

	Just to hear her giggle, and then dash all hope to the winds, shattered into twinkling vapor before it could even reach the ground and shatter.

	With a twinkle of an eye that was more rounded emerald or jade than an eyeball, a hide gleaming in the noonday, overcast sun just daring to peek out like shiny bronze or gold, and the patter of those near silent bell bearing hooves as their frequency approached such that they hummed rather than beat repeatedly, the hind propelled herself forwards and out of his reach in a patently impossible way. 

	What at first was impossible morphed into uncanny, and then improbable, and then, ludicrous. Pulling away from him, the continuous motion went from a believable rapidity of a champion sprinter, to something only attainable by bipedal locomotion when you fast forwarded a movie. If he hadn't been witnessing it through the clear straightaway of a railroad track, Louis doubted he would have believed he was seeing what he was seeing. She moved like a mercurial cryptid, ignoring the laws of momentum and inertia at her whimsy. Though her legs moved the same as any other, she was clearly flying over land. Her hide had abandoned any pretense of mingling the now aggressively golden sheen, lit as if from her own molten golden core as she doubled and redoubled her speed. Even the sounds of her giggles grew feint and distance as the white noise and subtle resistance of air pressure held him back, while seeming to flow around her. The punishing, loitering air served as no obstacle, for her. 

	By the time Louis stopped, flabbergasted and stunned, she was already over the far horizon. No mortal soul alive could hope to catch that. He knew it. And, most importantly he realized, she knew it. There was no possible way he was going to catch her. Nobody could. From F-1 racer, to jet, bullet train, to speeding jet, the hind outran them all, with no hide or hair of a trade left to even prove she was there. Left slowing to a stop, panting and slouched forwards to squeeze his knees to remain upright. 

	This had been a lesson. One whose meaning was painfully obvious, if one had the cunning to interpret it. 'Don't call us, we'll call you.' Louis couldn't help but concede it, as he evened his breathing and stood back up. Removing his phone, he casually glanced at where the tracker told him he was in relation to the map of his hometown. Three miles from where they started. Nothing out of sorts, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, Louis smiled, for at least now he had a satisfying answer to just one question, in a world of so many left unanswered. 

	What a cheeky bitch.