Chapter Text
Years pass. The seasons change more than Phantom. One night, Phantom finds herself again under the stars, with another sleeping doe nestled against her side. This one is a fiery red, a white blaze striping her face from forehead to chin. Pale spots dapple her flanks and back.
What strange changes the menfolk have wrought upon her species, Phantom thinks. With a shudder, she wonders how it feels to where the signs of human domination on one's face and hide.
Still, it's not so unbecoming. Phantom kisses the doe right in the center of her blaze. Then, in one swift motion, Phantom stands.
As always, Phantom spares a moment to admire the sleeping figure, curled up and framed by starlight-silvered grass. This, this is her favorite part of her rescues. Watching a newly freed doe slumber soundly, peacefully, unburdened of a life spent in servitude. This doe in particular wears her freedom well. She hesitated at first, but tales of an endless horizon proved alluring enough. Two nights of talk were all it took for her to slip loose of her bridle and follow Phantom out into the wilds. While they ran, Phantom was proud to note that she never once looked back.
Having drank in her fill of the sight, Phantom turns and springs away. As the ground rushes by beneath her hooves, she casts one last well-wish over her shoulder for doe behind her.
Faster, faster, faster. The landscape becomes a blur. So long as Phantom doesn't have to wait for anyone, she is the fastest thing on four legs. And so she waits for no one. She is the Phantom, the ghost-deer roaming the plains, a myth and a dream. The menfolk covet her, for her beauty, her speed, and the mere fact that no man has ever touched her. Every time she dances within their reach, they can never stop themselves from hoping. Well, they can wish all they like, but she will always rip away before they can cross that final hair's-breadth. And she will laugh at them, and mock their fantasies, and set their prisoners free. And most importantly, they will never, ever have her.
Though the night breeze is a dull roar in her ears, her nose still catches bits of the scents it carries. Dust, dried grass, the wet smell of a creek somewhere ahead. Then: canvas, old wood, the greasy stink of menfolk.
Deer.
There's a wagon train nearby.
The work is never ending, but Phantom isn't daunted. She grins, and runs even faster still.
---
Eyrie leans forward in her harness, testing the resistance. She grimaces. Restocking stops: her old enemy. After weeks of slowly lightening up, all at once her wagon becomes an anchor at her back. She can look forward to be sore the next day.
As if in apology, one of the men offers her a sugar cube in a flat palm. Eyrie doesn't hesitate to snatch it from him, ruffling his hair with a huff. The man laughs and scratches at her neck, and Eyrie shifts to guide his hand toward her itchiest spots. Unfortunately, business calls him away. He rejoins the other men, busying himself with stacking yet more items into the wagon. Eyrie contents herself with savoring her rapidly dissolving treat instead.
She wishes the stop had lasted longer. Though she hasn't much to say about the town, the stables were nice. Soft bedding, cool water, and the sweet scent of hay. Usually that's all Eyrie hopes for, but this stable had a paddock open to her during the day. It was a rare treat, being able to stretch her legs without a weight dragging at her shoulders or a rope leading her. But even better was lazing around in the sun all day. When she wasn't snoozing in the warmest patch of light she could find, she was whiling away the hours watching the clouds drift and listening to the wind sing through the grass.
Of course, all good things come to an end. One man clicks his tongue and Eyrie, swallowing the last of the gritty sweetness in her mouth, takes one arduous step forward. It becomes easier once the wheels start turning, but Eyrie prays they won't run into too many potholes along the road.
Eventually, the burning in her shoulders becomes a background drone, and then she stops noticing it altogether. The town her group just left clusters at the base of a small valley, and so, their destination lies in a gap between the mountains ahead. Eyrie's world shrinks to the cleft in the rock face crawling steadily closer. A still-rising sun casts long shadows over the earth.
Then a spark flashes on the mountainside.
Eyrie startles, stumbling for a beat. Someone rushes over, anticipating an injury. But Eyrie shakes off his searching hands and throws herself forward with renewed vigor. The man, receiving the message, drifts away and leaves her to her pulling.
It's nothing, Eyrie tells herself, snapping her hooves into the ground.
Nothing.
---
Nightfall proves Eyrie wrong.
When the pebble bumps into her side, she's not really surprised. She was, after all, unable to sleep in anticipation of its arrival.
"Piss off," she growls, not bothering to open her eyes. Some part of her still expects no response.
No such luck. "My, what's gotten you so cranky?" comes a whining reply. Though it's been years since Eyrie heard it, the voice is unmistakable.
"Piss. Off." Eyrie, resigning herself to the unwanted conversation, swings her head up to glare at the speaker.
And there stands Phantom against the star-studded sky, just as Eyrie remembers. Luminous and insufferable. The only difference after all this time is a lack of antlers. But that's to be expected this time of year. And their absence only makes her sleeker.
"Come on, is that any way to speak to your rescuer?" Phantom chirps, in an attempt at charm that is wasted on Eyrie.
"Are you deaf or choosing to ignore me?"
Phantom rolls her eyes. "Geez, it's not my fault you got captured again. If I take your rope off will you stop being terrible?"
"No."
"UGHHHHHHHHH fine! I'll do it anyway even though-"
"No you will not," snarls Eyrie.
Phantom halts in the middle of a step toward Eyrie, blinking. "What? Why not?"
Instead of answering, Eyrie hauls herself up and slams her hoof into the wagon.
The crack echoes through the night. Phantom gapes at Eyrie. Eyrie holds the eye contact as she kicks the wagon again. And again.
Mumbling voices arise from the camp. Phantom flinches, skitters backward, but manages to stop herself from leaving entirely. The effort leaves her taut and twitching. Her wide eyes flick between Eyrie and the edge of the camp.
Eyrie raises her hoof one more time, but it proves unnecessary. Footfalls arise from behind the wagon. Phantom spares a last pleading look toward Eyrie, then bolts.
---
Eyrie doesn't bother hoping that's the last she'll see of Phantom. So the following night, the second the brush makes the softest rustle out of time with the wind, Eyrie shoots up to her feet.
"Waitwaitwait!" Phantom cries, springing forth from the shadows. "Will you please just wait!"
Against her better judgement, Eyrie pauses. She's not sure she's ever heard Phantom say please before. Though her hoof remains hovering in the air, she watches Phantom with mild curiosity.
"Can we talk? Please?"
"I'm listening."
"Not here," Phantom whispers, kneading the ground with her hooves, eyes darting between Eyrie's still-raised hind leg and the dull campfire glow creeping around the edges of the wagon.
Eyrie snorts and pulls her leg back to strike.
"Wait! Please! If you just talk to me one more time I promise I'll leave you alone!"
That gets Eyrie's attention. Her ears swivel forward. "You'll leave me alone?"
"Yes!"
"I won't have to see you ever again? You promise?"
Phantom gulps, but bobs her head. "I promise," she mumbles.
Good enough. With a snap of her head, Eyrie tosses off her rope. The men have not yet entirely forsaken the precaution of tying her up at night, but they have once again grown lax in their attempts to secure her. Phantom startles. She'd expected to have to remove the lasso herself. Both the suddenness and ease with which Eyrie casts aside her restraints shocks Phantom into stupefied stillness. The action seems practiced.
"Are you going to lead the way?" Eyrie drawls, when Phantom fails to move.
Phantom opens her mouth, but no words come out. In the end, she turns away without saying anything.
The does walk out of the men's earshot with ease. Tonight, the winds bluster. A river cups the camp in a bow of its chattering, misting length. Not even Eyrie worries too much about staying quiet. So it can't be fear of being overheard that keeps Phantom so silent for so long.
Eyrie and Phantom cross a shallow bit of the river downstream of the camp. The ground rises. The campfire shrinks to a dull spot. Stars wheel overhead. All the while, Phantom watches her hooves with furrowed brows and a frown and does not speak.
At first, the lack of conversation is a welcome thing. It's a pleasant night for a walk, despite the cutting wind. And Eyrie has no particular desire to listen to Phantom. But her patience runs out eventually. Eyrie halts once she notices the campfire has become but another star in the distance.
"Alright, this is far enough. What did you want to talk about?"
Phantom stops, but does not yet turn to face Eyrie. Her ears twitch backward instead.
"You weren't captured, were you?" Phantom asks, just as Eyrie is about to prod her again.
"No."
"Then WHY?!" Phantom yells, spinning around. "You were free! No more wagon, no more ropes, no more men! You were so happy! You left! You had no reason to go back!"
"Well, Phantom," Eyrie replies, keeping her voice neutral through great effort. "I left. With you."
Phantom blinks. "So?"
The effort becomes tremendous. Eyrie grits her teeth. She counts. One, two, three. "And then. You left."
"...Yes?"
"Phantom!" Eyrie snaps. "What the hell was your plan?!"
"......Um...I'd....help you see that you didn't need to be a prisoner? And then I'd help you escape? And then when you didn't need me anymore we'd go our separate ways?"
Eyrie stares. The tuneless duet of frantic wind and dry grass becomes static in her ears. Then something gives way. She laughs. She laughs and laughs.
"What?!" Phantom sputters.
"Nothing! Nothing at all!" Eyrie chirps. "Just that we're both idiots. Ok. So you set me free. Me, a pack deer who has spent her whole life in human care. Alone, in the wilderness, for the first time ever. And you, what, just expected me to figure it out? How to find food, water, shelter? How to avoid predators? How to not freeze in the winter? Everything, all on my own?"
"Um," Phantom says. But that's answer enough. Eyries dissolves into another fit of giggles.
"...Shit, wait... Eyrie! This is serious! Do you think the others-"
"Others?" Eyrie's grin stretches wider. "There were others? Wait, that's a dumb question. Of course there were others. How many then? Five? Ten? More? Or have you lost count?"
This time, Phantom is wise enough to not respond.
Eyrie doubles over with the force of her laughter. She laughs herself breathless. She laughs until her throat is sore. She laughs until something wet splatters against her shoulder.
Eyrie starts, then tilts her head up to a lightless sky. More droplets splash against her upturned face. She must have failed to notice the clouds rolling in during the conversation.
"Well. This has been fun," Eyrie remarks, with ugly cheer. "But I should really be getting back. Goodbye, Phantom."
With that, Eyrie turns to leave, but finds her path blocked by Phantom.
"Stop! You can't leave yet!" Phantom shouts.
"Actually, I can. And I kept my side of the deal, so I believe it's your turn."
"No! I mean you actually can't! The storm will flood the river, it won't be safe to cross!"
Eyrie squints. The rain has barely started. "You...you planned this, didn't you?"
"...No..."
"Unbelievable," Eyrie growls, leaping to the side. If she's quick, perhaps she can return before the rain really picks up.
Phantom follows the movement. "You don't understand! I know you think you can trust them but you can't! They're going to hurt you. I hear about it all the time. The things they do to us... they're- they're dangerous, Eyrie."
"You know Phantom," Eyrie snaps, growing tired of both the conversation and the dancing back and forth, "seems like the only person who's hurt me is you."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Phantom says, sounding genuinely wounded, "but I can't let you go back."
Eyrie decides she's had enough. She halts, and draws herself up. Though both does are about the same height, Phantom instinctively shrinks back.
"Phantom," Eyrie says with a venomous calm, "you don't have antlers right now. And you might be faster, but I think we both know which of us is stronger. Do you really want to try to stop me?"
She must have been convincing, because now, when she darts away, Phantom does not chase her.
Eyrie races the storm and loses. A pitter-patter rain becomes a roar, then falls in sheets. The guiding star of the distant campfire dies under the onslaught of water. Had Eyrie delayed leaving a moment more, it might have been too late to orient herself by the firelight. As it is, she charges blindly through the dark and the thickening mud, hoping she doesn't lose her direction.
After an eternity, she arrives at the river's edge. Phantom was right. The river is a swollen, angry thing, its surface gnarled by the merciless rain and its own churning. Eyrie balks, but the sounds of storm-muffled shouting finds her ears. She gathers her courage, and her anger, and leaps.
Immediately, she knows it wasn't a wise decision. The water sucks at her thrashing legs, pulling her downriver and down. She chokes on gritty liquid. At first, her only concern is keeping her head above water. But once she learns the trick of it, she begins inching her way to the other side.
From there, it's a short distance back to the camp, so Eyrie rejoins the men still coughing and wheezing. It's chaos. The men run amok, arms waving and shouting. Tents and gear have been hastily uprooted; some poles remain impaled in the mud. Eyrie spies a tin cup bobbing away with the currents. Worst of all, the wagon sits half submerged in water, swarmed with men tugging uselessly at its sides.
Once the men notice Eyrie's splashing approach, they rush to grab at her. Eyrie lets them. She expects them to guide her to where she need be, but the hands pull in all directions. Soon it becomes clear they won't resolve their conflicting commands and Eyrie, overwhelmed and disoriented, realizes she'll need to move if the situation is to improve. She surges toward the wagon -- at least she can be certain that's the place to be if she wants to help. But the men don't appreciate her initiative. If anything, they become more frantic. Hands become claws scrabbling for purchase on her hide. Someone yanks painfully on her ear. In the midst of the turmoil, a rope finds itself around Eyrie's neck. It has its own opinion on where she ought to go, and it doesn't intend to leave room for debate. The pressure on her windpipe kills the last of her composure. She squeals and rears, legs lashing out in a desperate bid for space, the whites of her eyes stark crescent moons around her irises. Panic makes her vision useless, spraying water and lightning flashes and the crowd of menfolk all smearing into a grey-brown blur.
Then Eyrie's hind leg buckles underneath her, and she crashes into the water shrieking.
Pain lances up her leg, blackening out the remnants of her sight in flashes, and taking her hearing with it. Something had struck her joint, hard enough for her to feel a crack in the limb.
Small mercies: the men finally back up. Fear replaces thought. Eyrie surges at a break between the figures. They try to reach for her, but they are too slow, too weak. Not even the rope can stop her now.
But her escape route is a poor one. Devoured by her need to get away, she forgets the storm, and plunges right into the deepest part of the river. Bereft of a clear head and down a leg, she has no hope of fighting the current. She disappears under the rapids.
The men never see her again.
---
The storm clears sometime before dawn. Eyrie limps across a plain brightly lit by a morning sun and a cloudless sky. Some small part of her is grateful for the warmth, but mostly, she resents it. Even the battered, soggy earth reflects the sun's cheer on rain-slicked grass and stones. Meanwhile, Eyrie has been chewed up and spat out. She aches all over. Her legs tremble with every step. Her functioning legs, that is. Walking on three legs would have been difficult enough without the mud sucking at her shins. Her lungs and throat still ache from vomiting water.
Though the plain sports a few scraggly trees, it's otherwise flatter than a frying pan. So it's a small wonder that Phantom manages to appear from nowhere. It's a small wonder that Phantom found Eyrie at all, really.
It'll have to be another bit of luck Eyrie is and isn't grateful for.
"You were right," Eyrie croaks, instead of a greeting.
Phantom is silent. Eyrie can't read her expression, but while searching Phantom's face, she suddenly realizes this is the first time she's seen Phantom during the day. Under the light of the sun, she learns that Phantom's eyes and nose are pink. Soft pink, like the inside of a seashell.
When Phantom moves, she does so gingerly, as if afraid of startling Eyrie. Fair enough. Eyrie stands obligingly still, even as Phantom begins sniffing at her injured leg. Phantom's nose ghosts over the swollen joint. Close enough to feel the heat of inflammation.
"Don't go," Eyrie says.
Phantom ear's swivel toward Eyrie's voice.
"You don't have to stay forever," Eyrie elaborates. "Just long enough to show me how to survive. Or at least until my leg heals. Please."
Phantom sighs, and gently presses her head against Eyrie's flank.
"Ok."
---
"Ok fine! It is a long distance. But it's not that far. We could be there in less than a week! There's no reason not to go!"
"Sure," Eyrie replies, stooping to drink, "but there's no reason to go either. There's plenty of food here."
"Actually, there is," Phantom huffs. "It's called having fun. Ever heard of it? It's a thing enjoyed by most people on earth. Besides, you've been wild for months and you've barely met anyone. And since there will be tons of other deer there you can play catch up. Or if you keep insisting on being antisocial it'll at least be a change of scenery."
"Hmm," Eyrie answers, muzzle now submerged in the creek.
"UGHHHHHHHHHH!" yells Phantom.
While Phantom lectures Eyrie on the importance of variety, and doing things, and talking to people, and not being a boring stick-in-the-mud, Eyrie finishes her drink. She raises her head, pausing to note her reflection. Her velvet finished shedding just days prior. This is the first time Eyrie has ever seen herself with full grown antlers.
They're not like Phantom's, bone-white and gleaming. Eyrie's are tan where they aren't splattered with darker brown. The tines are thicker. Less delicate.
They look like hers.
"You can go without me," Eyrie says, interrupting Phantom's tirade.
Phantom blinks. "What?"
"My leg. It's fine now." Eyrie stamps her leg in demonstration. "And I think I can take care of myself. You're not stuck with me anymore. You can go if you like."
"Well," Phantom sniffs, after a pause, "that's stupid."
"Hmmm."
"You should come anyway. You're still new to being out here. It'll be safer. And I can help introduce you to people. Which is a huge favor because you're such a grump, by the way."
Eyrie doesn't even grunt in response.
"Fine!" Phantom snaps, when it becomes clear Eyrie doesn't plan on answering. "If you really want to be this way, I guess I can't stop you!"
Eyrie listens to Phantom stomp away with a faint smile. Phantom's footfalls are only audible when she wants them to be.
Eyrie takes her time studying her reflection. It's a new face, after all. She can afford to linger.
When she's ready, she follows Phantom's hoof prints.