Chapter Text
The forest was alive with early morning mist, the kind that clung to the underbrush and made every sound sharper, every movement louder. Copper’s paws padded softly through the damp leaves. His nose twitched as the scent led him deeper into the woods. At just over two years old, he was a young adult dog—muscular, eager, and skilled, yet still playful in his exuberance. Amos Slade was out hunting today, and Copper’s job was clear: track any deer that wandered too far from the clearing and bring them back if possible.
Copper’s job was to track any deer that wandered too far from the clearing. But something about the scent he picked up made him pause. It was faint… delicate… cautious. And unmistakably young.
Copper nosed through the ferns and froze, eyes widening.
A tall, awkward yearling deer stood just ahead. His coat was a warm brown, faintly dotted with the last traces of fawn spots, and his small antlers were just beginning to bud. His wide eyes reflected curiosity and fear, and he lifted his head proudly, trying to imitate the Great Prince of the Forest on wobbly legs.
Copper’s instincts screamed “chase!”—his training, his duty, everything Slade had drilled into him. But his chest tightened. There was something about the way the young deer’s ears flicked nervously, the way his nose quivered, that reminded him painfully of Tod, of innocence lost too soon, of the cost of obedience.
He stepped forward slowly. “You… you’re alone,” Copper said, voice low but steady. “Where’s your mother? Is she gone?”
Bambi hesitated, then squared his small shoulders, trying to sound confident, like the Prince he was destined to be. “Man took her,” he said, voice shaking slightly, though he swallowed and tried to hide it. “I… I must be strong. The forest… I'll watch over it someday.”
Copper’s ears flattened. A pang of guilt hit him like a stick to the ribs. He remembered the chaos of his own youth, the way Tod had looked at him—eyes full of trust and fear at the same time. He couldn't this. Not now. Not to this awkward, grieving young deer.
“You have to move,” Copper said, glancing toward the edge of the clearing where the mist thinned. “Slade’s coming. If he finds you…” He swallowed hard, shaking off the tightening in his chest. “Go. Run. Get to the thicker woods. Humans won't follow you there.”
Bambi’s legs wobbled, but he obeyed, loping forward awkwardly as he tried to mimic the grace of an older deer. Copper followed only partway, making sure the path was clear, then spun back, covering the scent with soft paws and creating a false trail through the underbrush. He hoped that was enough to fool his master.
From the deeper part of the forest came the heavy thump of Amos Slade’s boots. “Copper!” Slade barked. “Where’s the buck?”
Copper barked back, low and insistent, guiding his master’s attention in the wrong direction. Slade followed the false trail for a while, muttering good-naturedly. “Ah, Copper… clever boy,” he said, patting the dog’s head. “Not today, little fella. You’ve done well. Go on, get back here.” His voice had no anger—only trust and a gentle humor. Copper wagged his tail, hiding the relief that flooded him.
When the forest fell silent again, Copper sat back on his haunches, chest heaving. He glanced toward the spot where Bambi had disappeared. Relief mixed with something heavier—sorrow, guilt, and a longing to do right even when wrong was expected of him.
And with that, the young hunting dog melted back into the shadows, leaving the fawn to the safety of the forest.
A low growl broke the silence. Chief, the older Irish Wolfhound who had trained Copper when he was a pup, stepped from the shadows. His eyes were sharp, knowing, and patient. He knew what was up.
“You spared him,” Chief said quietly, voice gravelly as he scratched his ear. “I’ve seen it before. You can’t save em' all, Copper. You’ll live longer in peace if you realize lettin' em go is the right choice.”
Copper nodded his head, optimistic as ever. "Oh, I gotcha, Chief."
Chief’s tail thumped softly on the leaves. “That’s the way, boy.”
Copper watched the mist curl and fade, thinking of the awkward young deer, proud and trembling at the same time. Then, with a final glance toward the deeper woods, he melted back into the shadows, leaving Bambi to grow and survive another day.