…or, Over The River And Through The Woods

My body blazed with the need to run. Every pulse of my heart propelled me onward, deeper into the woods. My feet touched the ground rarely and briefly. The whole world fled backwards from the strength of my kicks, and the forest ran forward to fill the void it left. Instinct and reflex sent me flying around trees like a magic-guided javelin. The sound of crashing leaves and branches filled my ears as countless scents filled my nostrils. Flowers, bark, moss, water, fur, sweat, and even the tiniest insects all advertised themselves to me.

The world opened up into a clearing and the pebble-strewn shores of a small lake. The fleeting feel of the rocky ground under my feet was jarring, but I welcomed the variety. I ran straight ahead, my hooves barely breaking the surface of the water as they skimmed across its surface.

Running on water. That was interesting. Even considering the fact that I’d been turned into a fucking deer, that was something that was worth noting. I skidded to a stop on the other side and tried to turn myself around to look at the lake.

Turning was also interesting, but not in the same way. It’s a more complicated operation with four legs than two. During the wild flight, I’d been moving naturally, instinctively. I fucked myself up when I started paying attention to what my feet were doing. Finally, I just kicked up on my hind legs and jerked my body around.

It might seem like I’d taken the transformation in stride. That was literally true; I’d been off and running before I’d had a chance to digest what was happening. When I didn’t think about it, there was nothing strange or unnatural about the deer body. It felt like it belonged to me, and it responded accordingly.
There was no feeling of alienation. This was my body. It had changed, but it was still mine. I was still me.

I walked up to the edge of the lake and reached out with a hand—foot, I mean. I held it just above the surface of the water and then brought it down by degrees until my toes passed into the lake. I stepped forward a bit and put my weight on that foot. It went down to the mud without hitting any more resistance than you’d expect from a lake. I took a couple steps forward, focusing my attention and will on my hooves. Nothing. I was walking through the water, not over it.

Of course, I also took a glance downward to see if I could catch my reflection. The murky lake water wasn’t a mirror, though. I might as well have been looking at my shadow.

The water felt good on my coat, though, after a long run, so I waded in deeper. There was a moment of panic when my hooves lost the bottom, and then I realized I could still swim. I went back and forth across the middle of the lake a few times, then around in a circle, before heading for shore. The cool water had a powerful appeal, and before walking out of the lake, I lowered my head and drank deeply from it.

Out of the water, I froze. I’d just had a sensation like hearing a floorboard creak or a twig snap, though I hadn’t heard anything. Something had happened, though. There was danger around.

A breeze drifted through the treetops, and then there were new scents in the area. Cloth, leather, metal. Drying human sweat. Sex.

Iason.

I shuffled around in a clumsy circle, looking for any sign of him. I couldn’t see anything. He was a stealthy bastard, but all my senses had grown sharper except for my sight and the last time I’d seen him, he’d stood out like a beacon to my new eyes. So, he wasn’t here yet, but he was close. I wheeled myself around and ran around the lake, taking a heading out of the clearing at a right angle to my earlier path.

Why was I running from Iason? He’d sent me hurtling away before I knew what was happening, but now I was doing so by choice. Rationally, I didn’t know the woods and I was far from any trails. It wasn’t obvious if I could turn back to a human on my own or not. Seeking Iason out, or letting him come to me, would have made sense. Still I ran, each leaping stride carrying me further and further away.

Why?

Because it was a hunt.

Also, it was fun. The sense of urgency which impelled me forward wasn’t fear, it was excitement. Running had become an act of pure bliss. In running away from Iason, the act gained purpose and significance.

I ran for just over half an hour before I stopped at another break in the woods . My sense of time also seemed more acute. A glance around seemed to tell me how much time had passed—something about the sun and the shadows. I didn’t fully understand what I was seeing. It was instinct again. That sweeping look showed me something else, too: a column of golden light rising up into the sky, not too far off and coming closer.

Iason really did blaze like a beacon to me. That would be useful if I needed to get back to him. It would also be a little helpful in avoiding him. I couldn’t keep turning around to check his position, though. My strength was in forward motion.

He’d said the bracelet would let him find me. Did it turn me into a beacon for him? I didn’t know. It was time to put some more distance between us, though. I kicked off and started galloping away.

After many minutes, I found a broad stream and turned to follow its course. That would be predictable, but if Iason could track me mystically then that hardly mattered. If he was tracking me through physical means then it seemed that running along the streambed would make that harder. It let me run in more of a straight line without having to veer around trees or turn my head to squeeze through tight spaces.

Also, constant running was thirsty work.

I stopped to get my bearings at a wide spot in the stream. As I came to a halt, hot breath streaming from my nostrils, I heard rustling and the sound of rapid footsteps pounding on the ground. Iason had veered to intercept me when I’d changed direction, and he was almost upon me. I turned and headed for the trees, running away from the noise.

Plunging headlong through the woods was more challenging than running alongside and through the stream had been, but it was an exhilarating challenge. I felt alive. “Exultation” is a word that doesn’t get thrown around a lot, but I think it described what I was feeling. Even when prickly branches scratched my flanks, the tiny stings blurred into a pleasant tingle. There was an itch in my soul and running was scratching it.

The land had been growing hillier as I went, and eventually I came to the edge of a bluff, overlooking a river. It wasn’t very far across, but it was deep and fast-flowing. I didn’t have enough of an understanding of my body to chance swimming in it, and I had no clue how I’d been able to run across the lake before. I did a quick check for Iason’s light, but the trees were too tall and too thick. I started running downriver. The ground sloped downward in that direction, and it would take me further away from Iason.

I had only been following the river for a few minutes when I felt the same warning sensation I’d had at the lake. A moment later, there was a rustle and a whoosh, and a heavy ball of scents dropped onto my back with a whoop and a holler.

I almost leapt out of my furred skin at the impact. The jolt was more than physical. Any trace of exhaustion fell away, and when my hooves next touched the ground I shot forward at double or triple my previous speed. I was the same size, but my whole being felt enlarged.

Iason’s hands grabbed at my neck mane. His knees pressed against my sides, spurring me onward as his laughter rang out over the river valley. I could feel him leaning low over my back, but his weight didn’t press down against me. He was a part of me. He added to my strength instead of to my burden. He was my rider. I was his mount. He was my knight. I was his stag. This was the bond he’d talked about, the one that was deeper than lovers—and more lasting than hunter and prey.

When the bank flattened out a bit, he turned me towards the water with insistent pressure. My body responded to his will as naturally as it responded to my own. My hooves hit the fast-flowing water at speed, once again finding enough purchase to send me flying over its surface instead of plunging beneath it.

I didn’t stop to question it. I just ran on. Iason turned me around so that I was running uphill, against the current. We passed back up between the high bluffs. The river grew wilder and more turbulent, but its motion never posed any problem for me as my hooves never touched it for very long at a time.

We came to a place where the channel was very narrow and the tops of the high bluffs hung out over the water. In the shadow at the base of one side, there was a round opening, obviously artificial. Iason steered me into it, up an underground tributary. The beginning of the tunnel was dark, but around a bend it was lit by flickering orbs of smokeless fire that danced around by the walls. By their light, I saw a series of shapes gliding down the water towards us. On instinct, I ducked my head and jumped with my legs tucked up beneath me, just barely clearing a trio of startled elves headed for the river in kayaks.

Iason laughed louder than ever, and we continued our mad race up the waterway. The passage wound around and around, sloping more steeply upwards as we went. Eventually it leveled off, and then we reached a point where the tunnel was wider, with boardwalks on either side of the water. There were doors set into the walls in some places, and crates and barrels stacked on the walkways.

The air was getting fresher all the time, carrying the smell of flowers, trees, and grass, as well as wood smoke and cooked food. Finally I saw sunlight ahead. We bolted out beneath the open sky, boxed in on both sides by the walls of a canal. A huge paddle wheel loomed ahead. Iason pulled to the side, digging his boots into my sides and yanking upwards. I understood and flexed my legs for a powerful leap. We sailed upwards, over the sides of the canal and onto the soft grassy ground.

Iason brought me to a halt. I looked around and saw we were in a large enclosure surrounded by a roughly circular wall of wood, alive and growing with twiggy protrusions that sprouted leaves. There were tree-like towers—or maybe tower-like trees—sticking up above the wall at almost regular intervals. In the center of the enclosure was a cluster of trees ringed with platforms and connected by rope bridges.

Slender forms moved among the walkways and around the bases of the trees. There were excited voices and rapid footfalls coming from multiple directions. Iason tugged on my mane, and I reared up on my hind legs and spun around while he shouted and whooped in triumph.

I didn’t need to be told where our ride had ended. As far as our chase had ranged, the underground river must have led us back much closer to campus. This was Treehome, the residence of elves.