...That I Can Be Brave, Like Him

Big red eyes became moon-sized with surprise. Geno stepped back so quickly his hind foot slipped on a flat stone and both rear legs crossed. The little buck sat down in the same awkward tangle his father used to find himself in, gaping.

”Grandfather!”

The little tail end, newly unspotted, scuffed itself upright and Geno dashed forward, head down, without another thought. That was wonderful. His head had been so full a moment ago, it was always good to have everything else chased out by the sight of his big, heroic, brave grandsire. He didn’t even register the beloved voice’s playful words.

But when Geno reached the Great Prince, and his slicked-back maroon fluff pressed against the former forehead, he didn’t shove or wrestle. Instead, Faline’s son stood as close as he could and pressed into the massive buck, rubbing back and forth in a deer’s hug. He took a deep breath of the Great Forest’s guardian, maple leaves and waterfalls and cool shade. Sometimes he thought The Great Prince was the most opposite of Gurri anything could ever be—steady, slow, and calm. Why did it feel like so long since he’d last seen his dad’s dad? Why did one look at the broad shoulders and dark coat make everything seem so much less weighty?

The feeling of relief didn’t last. The brainy kid’s mind filled up again suddenly. He pulled back from nuzzling so quickly he nearly slipped again, and his ears twirled down with embarrassment. ”Oh,” stammered Geno apologetically. ”I-I didn’t hear you coming—or feel you. O-or smell you. ...Sorry, I-I-I just—“”

Geno shut his wilting gaze and drew himself up, lifting his chin with the air of a deer hoisting much heavier antlers than his little buds. He arranged his front legs together and puffed his chest, trying to make up for lost appearances. The reddish buck took a deep breath and blew it out with great solemnity. ”A Prince must be ever vigilant.” He recited, tail flicking up. ”He must be ready for anything.” He couldn’t let Hrandfather think he’d forgotten!

With cupped teardrop ears, parted mouth, and round orange eyes, Geno was the very picture of the word ‘receptive.’ He gaped at the Great Prince like a flower soaking in nourishment from the sunshine, his Princely face falling away.

Geno loved a new lesson. It gave his brain a big, important meadow of ideas to frolic through and explore. Especially when it was about filling the hoof prints of his dad and grandfather.

When The Great Prince’s words concluded, Geno had momentarily forgotten his worries with Gurri and was staring vaguely into the horizon. ”Oh...” he murmured. Thoughts definitely felt heavy. He had sometimes daydreamed that each thought a smart deer had added a new branch to his rack—and that was why Gurri didn’t have any. Of course, he knew that was silly and does just didn’t have antlers.

But it did go right along with this lesson. And it explained why his Grandfather’s antlers were so huge. He shook himself to get back to actually seeing what was in front of him and blinked owlishly up at the curving brown points spreading like a protective tree above him. ”Heavy...like yours?”

Would his own buds ever grow to be so huge? Even Bambi’s weren’t so giant. How many seasons would Geno have to wait? And how was Grandfather so wise and so heavily antlered and so vigilant all at the same time? The questions crowded Geno’s childish mind like a flock of restless birds sheltering from the snow, too tightly crammed to fly out.

Geno watched with fascination while his grandfather’s answer spoke only half as much as his face. What did that expression mean? Geno had always suspected the Great Prince daydreamed as much as he did—but he always thought it was about big, important things. Hard to tell, looking at the older deer’s faraway gaze and somber mouth.

The Little Prince scampered alongside The Great Prince when he turned to keep walking. Skinny legs worked to match the longer stride of his sire. Geno’s maroon brow furrowed with momentary concentration. He couldn’t make his hooves move as regally slow as the protector of the forest’s did without falling behind. He guessed even the trees felt small and shabby when Bambi’s father passed them by. Instead, he decided to settle for stepping in time with just Algo’s forelegs.

In the meantime, Geno wondered. Sharing his thoughts did sometimes help him feel better. He remembered being able to play in the snow with much more lightheartedness after asking Faline his questions about frost and where the grass slept during winter. Of course Grandfather was right—he always was.

But...

The cherry-tinted head also had another memory clashing up against this one like two bucks sparring.

It was of the same winter, after Gurri had planned to surprise Mother and Father by digging out a new, big den in a snow bank with Kopa. Geno had had a sneaking suspicion that the whole frosty fort they were making would collapse and get his parents soaking when all was said and done. But Gurri had been furious when he’d told Bambi. She said ‘a Prince doesn’t rat his twin out!’ This time, if he tattled, it wouldn’t just be her who was angry with him.

Geno’s big eyes became distant again, flicking down from pebble to pebble as their walk continued and his grandfather waited for an answer.

What was troubling him was that Gurri had another crazy idea, and this time she was trying to bring the whole group of kids, all of their friends, in on it. Her Enchanted Stars thing was scary, and it was overwhelming...but a small part of his logical mind thought it might actually work. After all, when he’d upset the laundry basket into the stream last week, all the adults had been grumpy. It was awful. And if an accident like that could upset the Cursed Thorns, who had hurt poor Angel and done so much violence it made Geno’s legs shake...

Still, on the other hoof, it was definitely the boldest idea his twin had ever had. And that was saying something. So he felt like he should tell Grandfather, or someone smart...

But Kion wasn’t tattling. Or Kiara. Geno looked up to his lion cousins—they always seemed to know what a Prince or Princess should do. They did it without thinking and thinking and thinking.

Finally, Geno realized that what worried him wasn’t Gurri’s idea. It was how she wouldn’t listen to him. ”It’s...it’s Gurri.” Eventually the words tumbled out of the small tan muzzle. ”She’s got...all these ideas.”” Maybe he could do this without tattling and making his sister mad...

”I think some of them could be good ideas! But not all of them. And she won’t ever listen to me.”” He frowned, then turned the look balefully up to Algo. ”I have good ideas, too. I think. And sometimes her ideas are...well...” He searched for the right word. He didn’t want to make Gurri sound like she was being naughty...but there weren’t a lot of words to describe her that didn’t have something to do with naughtiness.

Geno’s wide eyes gulped in the new word just as evidently as his tulip ears. Unorthodox. Wow! Had Friend owl even heard that one? Geno loved words. One word could answer as many questions as there were leaves on the ground sometimes. His little mouth fell open.

”Wow!” Now the teardrop head tipped to one side. He stumbled a bit on the rocks and had to splay his hooves to steady himself. Things like this were what usually had Bambi’s son so distracted he sometimes walked into trees, or brooks, or other animals. He smiled up, a little shyness coloring his excitement. ”Maybe? What’s...unorthodox...mean?”

Could it be? Something to describe Gurri’s crazy schemes? Something that probably didn’t sound mean, since he’d never once heard The Great Prince say anything ungentlemanly (that was a new word learned from Mother) in his short life? Geno knew there was a term for it, even if Gurri defied most every other category the contemplative buck tried to sort the world into.

“Is it a bad thing?” That question popped out like a startled pigeon before Geno’s mind had time to catch it up.

Geno wiggled his way under the tree. Unlike his father before him, he didn't even think of trying to jump it even though it had been almost a full season since his antlers began coming in. Not because he didn't like following the Great Prince's every move--the brainy buck was simply too distracted right now thinking through what his grandfather was saying.

Unorthodox. Doing something differently than it was normally done. He committed it to memory, right next to the rut where he kept a mental image of his scraggly, gap-toothed sister.

Yes, she certainly didn't do things the way they were normally done.

He was pulled from a memory of his sister running into the thicket to pull all the blossoms up and carry them off, instead of eating one at a time, by the mention of a familiar story. An excited grin was there to meet the Great Prince when Geno joined him on the other side of the log.

”Oh! Yes!” He knew this one. It was a favorite story, and like facts, the Little Prince never forgot one. ”Father let them chase him to lead them away from a doe named Mena. Right?”

As much as Geno loved to recite things, realization dawned on him. Ever the quick student, he was already thinking through why Bambi's father would bring this up now. ”I...suppose that was unorthodox, too?”

What did that mean about Gurri? And the Enchanted Stars thing he was still trying not to tattle about to grandfather?

The fawn joined his grandfather on the top of the rise. Where any other kid might've been preoccuppied with cupping his ears and pointing his snout at the more interesting view of the meadow below, Geno's attention stayed focused on The Great Prince.

He watched the long muzzle, the movement of the mouth that always said such wise things and used new, helpful words. While the marroon eyes drank in the sight of his hero, the fertile mind was accepting the lesson. Geno's brows pinched that same wrinkle of thought.

It made...sense. Sort of. Geno had never thought of Gurri's plans the same way he did Father's actions in the stories. When Uncle Thumper or even Mother told the tales, Bambi's ideas or choices always seemed daring, bold, and a little legendary. Attacking a whole horde of Man's dogs by himself to save Mother? Purposefully leading his enemies up a cliffside in the middle of a thunderstorm? Even the funnier stories that used to make his spots dirty with rolling in the ground in laughter, like Bambi's famous 'porcupine' incident, had never made his son think of Gurri.

Maybe he'd been looking at this all wrong. No, definitely, if Grandfather thought so. Maybe Gurri's Enchanted Stars idea was like...drumming your hooves on the ground to distract bad guys. It was strange, and a little crazy. Definitely scary and dangerous. But it was something Geno, and other animals, wouldn't normally do or think of. It was an idea that could catch the Thorns off guard, at least...and maybe the Little Prince really could be helpful, if he listened to the Little Princess.

Geno's tail flickered up, and a smile bounded onto his face like a happy frolic. That was it! He was always wishing he could be braver. Maybe this was a start. Maybe he just had to stop listening to his fears and worries and listen to Gurri instead. This time.

A Prince must sometimes ignore his feelings.

The strawberry-tinted deer nodded enthusiastically. ”I think I do!”He jumped forward to press his face against The Great Prince's strong shoulder in a hoofed-hug. What would he do without his grandfather, like a strong tree dropping leaves of knowledge whenever animals needed it? ”Thank you, Grandfather!”

Excitement, which was not an emotion that usually lifted the spindly legs, had Geno turning and hopping backwards down the hill, babbling as he left. ”I'm gonna go find Gurri! A-and listen to her.” As his rump brushed the treeline, he blinked in sudden embarassment and stood up straighter. Shoulders back, head up. A head that no longer felt weighted with the antlers of confusion. ”A Prince does what's best for others.”

A grin interrupted the regal posture. Faline's son even wrinkled his nose a little mischievously.”Even when they include his silly sister. Thanks again! Gotta go! Goodbye!” A miniature autumn whirlwind of dark browns, Geno spun around and bounded into the bushes.

He wanted to find Gurri right away. He'd start with saying sorry for the turtle thing--they hadn't really been buddies since a few days ago. A Prince takes responsibility for his own actions. Then, if she was feeling better, maybe he could get her to tell him what she had planned for the Enchanted Stars. He'd just use all the right words so she knew he wouldn't tattle...Geno began thinking of as many big, perfect phrases as possible to do the trick.