The Torment Begins...

Grass was nice, Buttercup thought to herself, chewing cheerfully on a fine chunk of it. The dawn was nice too, the way the horizon was a pretty golden-red as the sun rose her face.

She gazed over her shoulder at her mother, but the elderly doe was busy gossiping with one of the other does. From her position here Buttercup could see the lead male, he was standing on a small hillock, his head raised so that the early morning sunlight passed through the circle in his horns, leaving a strange, distorted pattern on the ground. Suddenly a flock of Murkrow rose from the bushes cawing loudly and a large stag walked from them. A stranger. His flanks were scarred, great white cuts on fur that was almost black, and he held himself with a certain pride and dignity. He approached the head-stag with no sign of deference, no sign of humbleness, even though he was the intruder on the other's territory.

Buttercup felt her knees begin to shake. She could not understand why, but there seemed something wrong here. It was not rutting season, not for another few months yet. Buttercup was young, but would be a yearling at the time of next rut, and was beginning to have dim thoughts of becoming a mother. Nothing serious yet, of course, for most Stantler did not breed until their second or third year, but she was starting to think of the idea.

And she knew from the look of him that this stag was not the male she would choose. not that the does of the herd had any choice. Whomever won the rut had first choice of mates.

The Intruder stood boldly before the herd's stag.

"I am Lucerne," he said, his voice so bold and proud that Buttercup felt as though she should recognise it, but she did not.

Neither, it appeared, did the stag of her herd. "And I am Greyhorn," he replied a little abruptly. "I do not think that gives you any right to invade my territory!"

"You are wrong," Lucerne said, his voice calm. "It is no longer your territory. I claim this herd in the name of the Outrunners!"

Suddenly Murkrow and pidgey exploded from the bushes at all sides. And suddenly the small meadow was filled with stags. The does shrieked as the bucks pushed them together in the centre. Any that tried to resist were trampeled or beaten until they submitted or fell, never to stand up again. Buttercup felt herself being pushed flank to flank with her half-siblings, other yearlings like herself and their mothers. And on the hillock, Lucerne watched as Greyhorn was taken down and trampeled by two bulky stags...

After the dominant stag was well and truly dispatched with, and the captive does and their fawns, and the yearling males, surrounded, Lucerne stalked over to them.

With black eyes, burning with an inner fire, he examined the yearlings closely, his eyes seem to linger a little too long on some of the barely-past infanthood females. He caught sight of a sturdy young buck, who was busy glaring at one of the guards and nodded his horns at him.

Immediately, with much pushing of horns, the Outrunners seperated the youngster from the others, pushing him to one side. After a careful period of examination, Lucerne chose himself another yearling, and another, does and bucks alike.

Then his eyes alit on Buttercup. He smiled. She was a pretty wee thing, not much more then a wisp, but pretty.

"Her," he murmured, and with many puzzled looks, his Outrunners obeyed him, seperating her and pushing her over to join the others.

Pushing herself closely against another buck, a feisty youngster called Buckthorn, she lowered her head and whispered to him. "What do they want with us?"

Buckthorn could only shrug.

One of the stags pushed his horns against her throat. "We shall spoke when spoken to, prickling," he growled. And it was plain from his gaze that her slender, delicate form did not impress him. Whatever reason the leader had for choosing her, it was different from his reasons for choosing the others.

Lucerne completed his inspection, then called a muscular stag over. "Sage," he greeted him. "You have been with me many seasons now, yes?"

The great stag nodded.

"Then I feel it is time to reward you. This is now your herd, at least in-so-far as for you to escort to my territory. If you mate with any of the does, I shall kill you, understand?"

Sage nodded, wondering if it really was that great an honour to be chosen.

"Very good. Now go, take these weak eyed, weak hearted followers north and I shall return to you once I have acquired more for my army." Sage bowed, actually getting to his knees and touching the dark Stantler's hoof with his horns. It was the most pitiful display Buttercup had ever seen. Then, he stood up, and made his way over to the remnants of Buttercup's herd.

And Lucerne made his way over to the group of youngsters. "You are my minions," he addressed them, "within a few weeks you will all be trained to fight to my command. If you fail me, or attempt to betray me, you will die. If you are weak, you will die. At my hooves you will become stronger then ever before."

"Or die?" Buckthorn asked, a little cheekily. Lucerne lashed out at him in a second, his horns pricking the youngster's throat. "You will learn to watch your tongue, little one," he growled.

And so the torment began...

*

Buttercup watched sadly as her mother and aunts and some of her friends were herded over the hill and away into the distance. She glanced at Buckthorne.

"I don't like what's going on here," she whispered. "I'm scared..."

Instantly she felt a prick of fear and looked up to find Lucerne staring at her. His eyes were burning with an unnatural fire. Then he smiled. It was the most terrifying thing she had ever seen.

"You shall not be scared for long, little one," he whispered, in a voice that oozed like a Grimer. "You are one of my elite now. Soon you shall be a great warrior."

~But I'm not a warrior, I can't fight!~ She thought, but dared not say it, those eyes told her she would not get away with anything.

Then Lucerne puffed out his chest and strutted in front of the assembled and frightened youngsters. "Listen hard and listen well. You and you," he gestured with his horns at two of the young bucks, "must come out here."

One obeyed almost willingly, the other showed reluctance and was ushered out with a prodding to the hindquarters. They were Dandelion, a bold young male, and Bramble, a somewhat skitterish youngster. Dandelion pranced proudly, but Bramble stood there, staring down at his overlarge feet on skinny legs. He had still not quite grown out of the gangly stage.

"Now," Lucerne said, in a voice that reeked of arrogance and cruelty. "I want you two to fight."

Dandelion faced Bramble, whose large knees were knocking together in fear. The bolder buck was somewhat more experienced, and definitely the dominant of the two. He cowered back as Dandelion charged, barely managing to angle his head in the way so that his hard forehead, his horns little more then spears, got in the way. The two meet with a definite "bash" and Bramble staggered back, almost falling.

"No no no," the stag walked between them, shaking his great rack of antlers. "Do not use your horns yet, you're too much of babies to have horns! Use what you do have, those great big ugly feet! Now, let's see that again..."

This time Dandelion reared on his hindlegs, bringing his feet down on Bramble. Bramble tried to dodge, but skidded in the ground and fell on his side, so that the larger fawn's hooves crashed into his shoulder. There was an audible *crack*. Bramble squealed and Dandelion leapt away, looking shocked. Buttercup flinched.

"I'm sorry," Dandelion whimpered, staring at the clumsy fawn as he tried to stand up and fell, unable to support weight on his right shoulder, which had been broken. "I, I didn't mean to..." He was coming close to crying. He had been friends with Bramble and had not realised quite how powerful his hooves were as weapons.

Lucerne frowned, whirling on the fawn. "We do not apologise for our power over weaklings," he snapped. "Birch, Rowan, take him away," he gestured contemptuously at the injured Bramble.

Two stags, huge beasts with great manes and racks of antlers, stepped forward, cruelly forcing the lame fawn to his feet. Then they harried him, forcing him upwards every time he fell over, even though he must be in great agony. Bramble refused to cry. He knew the end was near for him. They took him over the hill, out of view of the herd. And ten minutes later, Rowan and Birch returned...

...alone...

*

Some hours had passed since Bramble had vanished forever, and Buttercup was grazing fitfully in the short space of time between training that Lucerne had allowed them for lunch. She was famished. As a herbivore, she was designed to eat almost constantly, and the act of not eating for some hours and exerting herself physically was almost too much for her. She felt light headed, and a little weak, but was trying hard not to let it show. Buckthorne, her best friend in the world was standing close to her, supporting her mentally and emotionally if not physically.

It had been a terrible morning. Lucerne had forced them to fight each other, and those that got injured were left to nurse their wounds as best they could. And there were many injuries. Stantler did not normally fight playfully, except when very small and that mostly consisted of the fairly harmless banging of heads, but throw in hooves and teeth, and add a touch of fear and anger, and one was bound to stop being completely in control. Only Bramble had disappeared, but others were wounded in a manner that would handicap them for a while at least. And Lucerne didn't care - he forced them to fight onwards regardless.

She could see him now, standing atop the hillock. He was staring into the middle distance, but she knew he was watching her. Certainly, every time she glanced at him, he was in the process of staring elsewhere, but she could feel those cold, hard eyes boring through her skull. She gulped.

"He's watching me, isn't he Buckthorne?" She asked, moving closer. Buckthorne glanced up.

"No," he replied, "he's staring at the hills."

The young doe shuddered. "I *know* he's watching me. He's just really sneaky. I hate him." She whispered the last bit."

The buck stared at her. "You want to be careful what you say, Buttercup!" He hissed, "I don't think Lucerne will take kindly to that kind of talk!"

"I don't care, it's true!" She insisted.

Buckthorne flashed his teeth at her. "Just SHUT UP!" He snapped.

Buttercup felt tears streaming down her face. Her friend had never yelled at her before, especially not when she was just being honest. She did hate him, with all her heart and soul. She glanced at him again, imagining him dead, his heart torn out. Such barbaric thoughts made her feel good, then she felt guilty at feeling so good about it.

She pushed away from Buckthorne, too hurt to be frightened, and stopped to browse on a nearby willow tree. Suddenly she felt hot breath on her flank, and heard a low voice whisper in her ear...

"Well there, my dear, now I have you alone..."

Her heart leaping into her throat, Buttercup whirled, and found herself not face to face with Lucerne, as she had feared, but with a scarred, one-eyed doe.

"Err, hello." She said tentatively, not knowing whether this deer was negatively inclined towards her or not.

The doe stepped forward, lowering her horns menacingly. "He's mine, you know," she said, her voice a low rumble, "and it will do you well to stay away from him. Understand?"

"Who? What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, little fawnling. You've been staring at his all day, don't think I haven't noticed. You want him. Well, he's mine, all mine! And if you try to take his attentions away from me, I'll kill you myself, okay?"

"But I'm not interested in him." She whimpered, backing away. The doe's white eye was freaky, pure white except for a tiny gobule of red blood.

"You lie!" The doe bellowed, rearing on her hind legs, bringing them crashing down. "You want him!"

Buttercup's eyes flared. "I would not want him were he the last stag left in the world!" She bellowed.

"Are you saying he is not worthy of becoming a mate?" There seemed no pleasing this one. "You think yourself superior to Lord Lucerne! Why, he will be bigger then Herne, bigger even then the stars!"

Buttercup took a step back. "I, I just don't want him for a mate, okay?"

But the doe was not to be pacified. "Why, it is you that is the worthless one, yearling. You're not even fit to be amongst his warriors! Look at you! You're skin and bones, you wouldn't even be a decent meal for a predator!"

Little Buttercup shuddered. this one-eyed doe was plainly psychotic.

"Why, how you dare to speak against the great Lord is pure blashemy. I should kill you, leave you a bloody smear on the grass for those words. I should, I should..." Whatever the doe was going to say next was interrupted as suddenly a Presence entered.

She shuddered and took a step back, gone mute from the moment he appeared. Lucerne frowned at the scarred doe. "Please, Foxglove, show some respect to the younglings. She is as yet immature and will eventually shape into a beautiful flower of a doe." His voice was soft, and very insincere. "You know there can be noone to rival you, Foxy-dear." He nuzzled the doe, and she responded, and the two trotted away, Foxglove following close on his heels.

As they were leaving, Buttercup saw Lucerne turn his head and draw back his teeth into a wicked grin. He had something in plan for her. She knew it...

*

Nighttime came, with almost no further events. Buttercup had never been so tired in her life - she had spend the whole afternoon practising fighting, kicking with her hooves, butting with her prickling horns, nipping with her teeth. She was covered in small scars from the teeth of her peers. Not only that, but every muscle throbbed from the exertion.

The Outrunners herded the deer together, surrounding the younglings.

"You must sleep," Lucerne stated, his voice strong. "For tomorrow your training really begins. We show no mercy to the weak."

"This isn't the training?" Buckthorne murmured. He was standing flank to flank with Buttercup. "I feel like I've been run over by a tauros."

The stag glared at him. "Hold your tongue, imputent fool," he scolded, "or I shall hold it for you. If you want to know what being run over by a Tauros really feels like, then just you wait a couple more days!" He threw back his head, thrusting out his shaggy chest, and bellowed, sending a flock of Pidgey flapping from the neighbouring trees.

Shuddering, Buttercup knelt in the dewy grass, closed her eyes, and somehow managed to drift off into sleep. Beside her, Buckthorne snored quietly.

Lucerne stalked amongst his new captives, his dark eyes flickering over their slumbering forms. His gaze lingered for a while on the little female. She was a pretty thing. He truly hoped she would survive the training. Even if he had to rig things a little to see that she still remained his.

Lucerne always got what he wanted. Always.

Suddenly the heavens split with a blood curdling roll of thunder, and water bucketted down on the small herd. Buttercup felt the rain matt in her hair, awakening her, and shook herself, but it had no effect, the rain was just too strong. Shuddering, she pushed her wet hide close to Buckthorn, lowering her head so that the rain did not get in her eyes or delicate nostrils.

Like herd animals everywhere, they would have to wait it out.

*

Morning came in a most desultory fashion. The rain had died down to a thin drizzle, but the sunrise was nothing spectacular, just a slight lightening of the sky. Buttercup stood up, shaking the moisture from her fur. Suddenly her nostrils rankled. She smelt PREDATOR!

Flicking her ears anxiously, she glanced around, looking for the location of the beast and also seeing if her companions had noticed it. It took her a while to locate the dark shadowy shape of a Houndour, crouching in the bushes off to the right. It was downwind now, a freak gust of wind had blown its scent in her direction.

She stood closer to Buckthorne, knowing that one Houndour was not much of a threat, but also that they did not generally come in singles. And she wondered if she dared point it out to the Outrunners. The idea of speaking to them chilled her heart.

Watching it from her periperhal vision, she waited, anxiously.

*

The Houndour was the sole survivor of its pack. The others had sucuumb to rabies and she had escaped. She was famished. Her stomach burned with an inner fire and the smell of Stantler had been too much to bear. She watched, wishing she knew how to bring one down, but they all seemed too healthy, too fit. Some were injured, she noticed, however. Carefully she singled out a young doe. The doe had suffered from a twisted foot the day before, and was currently standing three legged and trying to graze. Drool collected around the Houndour's muzzle. She licked her lips.

It would be hard. But she could do it.

Lowering her head, she stayed downwind, watching the doe, waiting for it to move away from the others.

*

Buttercup watched, and observed that the dog had singled out the injured Doe. The Doe was named Rose, for the pinkish tinge to her fur. Buttercup and her had been fawns together. But Buttercup was not the only one watching.

Captain Nightshade, a sturdy, violet eyed Doe, observed the scene with great interest. She knew that Rose was at risk, but had decided not to protect her. The Doe would learn to protect herself, or die.

Both does stared at the completely ignorant doe, and waited for the inevitable...

*

The Houndour waited until the oblivious doe was withing easy springing distance. She knew she had to make it look like there were more then one, so she mustered all her remaining energy into a double team attack.

Doppelgangers of her spread out amongst the herd, their eyes glowing, their teeth shining, they lunged at poor Rose. They could not hurt her, of course, but the young Stantler did not know that.

All she knew was that suddenly four Houndour had struck out at her. She bolted the way the spectres were herding her, too frightened to notice that they did not smell quite right.

Or at all.

She bolted towards the one lone female, hiding in the bushes.

Buttercup's ears flicked forward as suddenly the pack of Houndours erupted from the bushes. There was something wrong with them. Not only did they make no noise - something common enough in dark types, but they also had no scent. It was possible she was too far upwind to notice the odour, but she still thought there was something odd going on.

Rose fled into the trees, obviously too dimwitted to realise that an ambush could lie there. Even Buttercup knew better then that! Always flee to the safety of the herd, she had learnt. Although the marauding black dogs were not offering much choice in the matter.

The lone houndour lunged, straight for the prickling's throat. Her teeth closed about the chest, biting through flesh and sinew with her amazingly powerful jaws. The prickling fell, unleashing a final death scream. The Houndour could not drag her, she was too heavy for one canine. And she was famished. Tearing open the young Stantler's chest, the Houndour began to feed on the delicious innards.

A distance away, Buttercup startled as the deer screamed, and those feeding near Rose had already fled, closer to the sanctity of the herd. It was over, the danger had passed.

Except for poor Rose.

*

"There is a lone Houndour in the region?" Lucerne asked, his nostrils flaring.

"Yes, milord," Nightshade replied, bowing onto her knees respectably. "It has preyed upon one of our does. Me thinks it will remain around us for some time yet. We do offer a rather ready supply of food, after all."

Lucerne turned his head away, staring for a moment at the does. "That youngster that was also watching, Buttercup, I believe her name is?"

"Yes, milord?" The Captain waited patiently.

"Why is it that she did not try and alert us? It is clear that she saw it as plainly as you did."

"If it were not for her attention to the spot," Nightshade replied, "I would surely not have noticed it myself."

"Bring her to me. I must talk to her, I must know why she did not warn us of the predator!"

"It shall be done." Nightshade bowed again, hating herself for having to do so, and then waited until Lucerne had returned to grazing before taking her leave. That was how it should be done.

As she departed, Lucerne smiled to himself, ah, the little one was such a treat. How he longed to claim her as one of his. And, perhaps now he had her...

*

Buttercup stood before the Lord of the herd, her large knees knocking together, she tried to hide the shakes of fear that raked her skinny body, barely starting to fill into the curve of adulthood (found even in deer, it appears).

"Yes?" She whispered. Lucerne narrowed his eyes.

"Yes My Lord!" He instructed. "And you must bow, down on your knees, doe!" Oh, the feeling of power, how it brought a chill of delight down his spine!

The little doe knelt, "sorry my lord," she whispered.

"That's better. Now, you must be wondering why I brought you here?" He continued without waiting for a reply. "It appears you bore witness to a killing today?"

Mutely, Buttercup nodded. He was going to kill her, she knew it. All because she hadn't raised the alarm. But, at least she was quick thinking.

"Why did you not alert us to the presence of the predator?"

"I knew it was a loner, milord," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You knew? How?"

"I, I just did... Sometimes I just, know things. I don't know why and I don't know how. It just is something that happens."

Quizically, the stag stared at her. "Really?" He asked, "so, you knew it was a loner, and you still did not alert anyone? It was plainly hungry."

"I, I saw that it was after Rose my lord. And she was hurt, and well, better to take the weak, eh? Then have chased it away and had it remain hungry."

"Perhaps," Lucerne smiled slyly, "but, you have forgotten one thing, although it may not need to eat for a while, a week or more, it will need to eat again. And why should it seek food elsewhere, when it has already proven that one lone Houndour can feed itself here?"

She had not thought of that. She gulped. "I'm sorry. I, I didn't think, milord."

"I can see that. But let it never be said that Lord Lucerne is unkind," he announced, "I shall not punish you for your crimes, however, the life of Rose and anyone else killed by that lone Houndour will be your fault, and your fault alone. Every life it takes before we bring it to justice, is your responsibility. Rose was a weakling, and would have surely died anyway, but next time it may not be."

She could not meet his gaze. She could do nothing but stare at the grass. "I'm sorry Rose," she whispered.

Lucerne did not hear, he had already turned his attention back to a tree he was cropping, although her delightful perfume still lingered in his nostrils. He must have her.

Buttercup turned and returned to the herd, her head hanging low. Above her a rainbow hung in the sky, and she stared at it sadly, remembering a time when she would have delighted in such a sight, but now it just seemed a mockery to her misery. A tear trickled down her cheek, as she remembered Rose. The two had been friends, and perhaps she could've saved her... Perhaps...

In the bushes Murkrow squabbled over the remnants of the carcass, their voices harsh in the moisture-laden air.

*

The three Outrunners were a bit jumpy. It was not often they were called out to hunt. None of them were very happy at the idea, none but Nightshade, it appeared.

The big doe stared around them with her violet eyes. "Calm down boys," she said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "It�s only a lone Houndour and it's just ate."

"Don't mean it can't try and add us to the menu," Rowan muttered. There were twigs caught in his horns, he'd been thrashing bushes again.

"As you know, one adult Stantler is strong enough to take on a single Houndour," Captain Nightshade growled.

"Come on, let�s go catch the puppy!" Muttering to himself, Rowan followed her, his twin brother, Birch following behind, shaking his head glumly. Stantler should not be hunting dogs. It wasn't that way, and had never been.

*

Back at the herd, Lucerne called all his younglings together. "Right, your training will commence again now," he commanded, "and tonight you shall learn how to fight on soft, muddy ground."

Her knees where trembling, both fear and the tiredness. She shook her head a little, trying to avoid Lucerne from noticing, Belladonna was still terrified, but as many others there, she had no other choice.

Bella was slightly relieved by the mild occasional rain, but upon Lucerne mentioning 'mud' she began getting worried... with his hooves he had softened a piece of land, and as soon as he was done he began looking for 'volunteers.'

Lucerne quickly set his eyes one Buttercup, he grinned and began looking around, he had to choose wisely who would be appropriate for her.

"You, doe, step forward, you shall be the first one" Lucerne said almost mockingly Bella closed her eyes, but advanced nodding into the muddy patch, immediately Lucerne looked at Buttercup "You, move on too"

Buttercup forced herself to smile for Bella. The two had been friends, once, what felt like a lifetime ago. She swallowed, hoping she would not have to hurt her childhood playmate, and the two faced each other.

"Now, the rules with fighting on muddy ground, are take advantage of it. Brace yourself and try to overbalance the opponent, because once they are down, they must NEVER get up again. Except in this case I think it will be kinder on my warriors is you do allow your opponent to stand up afterwards." Lucerne strutted before them, his eyes lingering a little too long on Buttercup's leggy form.

Foxglove, watching him closely, snorted in disdain. The little tramp! She would pay for trying to lure the Lord away. She would pay. But she would have to tread softly - if Lucerne lusted after the little doe as much as she suspected... He would not take kindly were she to kill her. She would just have to meet with an unfortunate accident.

Buttercup and Belladonna stared at each other, the smaller fawn, Buttercup, bracing her feet wide apart in the mud, flaring her hooves for better balance. She lowered her head and then the two does slammed their heads together...

*

Captain Nightshade's nostrils flared as she scented the blood and death scent. The Houndour was near, and from the smell of it, so was some of the poor fawn. She shuddered. Walking close to a predator was something one never got used to, no matter how strong the warrior was. With her head she motioned for Rowan and Birch to move around, flanking the dog Pokemon.

Suddenly the Houndour noticed her presence, it stood up, nape rising and a growl forming in its throat. But it was slow, it had just eaten a huge meal and was therefore very sluggish. Nightshade rose her head, allowing the wind to whistle through her horns, invoking the sounds of an Arcanine pack - the Houndours's worst enemy.

She watched as the Houndour became anxious, glancing around. Now was the time...

Thrusting her head downwards, the strange and ghostly howling suddenly ceased, but something worse had happened to the poor dog Pokemon, Rowan and Birch charged from the bushes, their horns slashing at its rump and shoulders. It whimpered, and tried to run away, but Nightshade stopped it by swinging her horns downwards before it.

"You're my little puppy now," she grinned...

*

Bella winced as they crashed, the force almost sent her back but she managed to hang on. She looked up and grinned at Buttercup and then she lunged at her side trying to take the chance to catch her off balance.

Buttercup could feel the ground slipping beneath her feet, she twisted, trying to avoid the blow and also to avoid falling over, heaving her body weight against Bella's side.

Bella, overly confident, was surprised by Buttercup's quick reaction, she braced her legs to support Buttercup's weight, but the mud under her hooves did not quite help. She slipped at a side and fell heavily on her side spilling mud all over everyone nearby Lucerne, watching, allowed himself a slight smile. He did not see the way Foxglove glared at the small youngster, hatred burning deep in her eyes.

Buttercup stared down at Bella, wondering what she should do now. Luckily she did not have to wait long, Lucerne stepped forward, and reared on his hindlegs, bring his forefeet crashing down inches from the fallen doe's head.

Belladonna Squealed scared to death, for a moment she thought Lucerne was going to kill her, she tried to get up quickly but she slid in the mud again, injuring her pride even more.

Lucerne chuckled and stepped back. "Get up doe," he snarled. "In a real fight you would be dead. That's the trick, Buttercup, and you others, the moment they are down, crush their skulls with your hooves. Once your opponent is down, they must never get up again. Only, don't do it here, ok, because if you do I may well just run out of trainee warriors. Proper combatants will be provided for you later, and you can see what its like to kill then."

Belladonna shivered and she slowly began pulling herself up as she listened carefully to Lucerne's instructions, she began questioning all of this, she would not be able to kill anyone, not like that, not in any event.

*

Nighttime fell on the distressed herd of young deer Pokemon. Buttercup pushed herself between Buckthorne and Belladonna, glad of their company. She shivered slightly.

"Don't you think its all gone wrong?" She asked Bella, quietly, although the Captains and the Outrunners were, as usual, a distance away, surrounding the small group, flanking them. Just in case one of the youngsters decided to make a break for it. "I mean, once it was just a matter of playing and finding a mate, and now, look at us! They're training us to be warriors. And to fight what, may I ask? Each other..."

Buckthorne, overhearing, snorted. "They want to turn us against our own kind," he muttered. "Lucerne wants to master the Stantler of the world, and become Lord."

*

(somewhere farther away)

Nightshade, Rowan and Birch stood nervously beside the predator. With such a beast you had to be on your toes constantly. They had forced the Houndour into a pit, where it could not get out easily, and stood at the top, dodging the occasional spurt of flame it directed at them. Nightshade had tried bargaining with it earlier - but predators did not talk to prey, so it assured them.

Nightshade had decided to make it the prey.

She glanced down at it. "Almsot ready to relent and take on the task?" She asked.

The Houndour growled. It was standing ankle deep in mud and slush. "I shall never bow to food like yourself!"

"As you wish." There was not much chance of it climbing out - the ground was too muddy for it to gain purchase. The fun bit was, Nightshade thought, that they had to get it complying and out of the hole by tomorrow morning. She hoped it rained overnight.

Lucerne has plans for this dog.

*

"But that's wrong... it has never been like that, we always have helped us each other, why figthing, that's not doing any good to us..." Bella glanced around "Then again.. we dont really have much choice..."

Bella nuzzled Buckthorne and looked at him hopefully "How are we going to get out of this?"

"I don't know," Buckthorne replied, shaking his head sadly. His horns had grown now, but were no more then a few inches long. "But I do know we're going to get out of it!" There was conviction in his voice. "I'll think up something, we can't stay here, its just wrong. And it�s terrible, unnatural. Stantler should not be taught to fight with one another! Especially not does!"

Buttercup rubbed herself against him, enjoying the feel of flank against flank. She was very fond of the young buck, and if it were not for the current predicament, she might have considered him a worthy mate. Right now, her considerations were more on getting out of this alive.

A distance away, through narrowed eyes, Lord Lucerne watched. He could see the affection between the doe and the young buck, and it tore at his chest as though it were a hungry Growlithe. He could not have that - he could not have her fancying that prickling! A small smile formed on his muzzle, oh yes, but he had plans! He did indeed.

And they would be followed through on the morn. Provided his Captains had managed to secure the canine.

*

Morning did not bring happiness to the young Stantlers. Nor to Lucerne, who was trouble with comments made about a human-hunted prickling one of his Captains had picked up. She would have to die. Humans were disastrous, and they were one thing that Lucerne would deal with once he was Lord of All Stantler - mightier then the Mighty Herne.

He snorted. Well, at least there would be some fun this morn. He had a new plaything. The Houndour.

He strode through the assembled deer, noting with some annoyance that it was time to move. The hooves of so many Stantler had stirred the ground into a mud, and taken much of the food from the area. No matter. After this morning's education, he could move them this afternoon. It was almost time to send some of the youngling's north, for further training, and take the promising ones with him to the south-west. His army to the north had grown manyfold. But he would take that young doe with him, Buttercup, she may not be strong, but she was a precious treasure. HIS precious treasure.

"I have a very important lesson for you this morn," he said to his minions. "And it will require some of you to be well fed, so graze and browse now, for I shall gather you together as soon as the sun is truly in the air."

Buttercup quivered, pressing herself against her friends' flanks. She felt weak and shaky - the food she had eaten had not been enough to sustain her, and there was pretty much nothing left in what had once been a rich area. All of the trees had been grazed as high as an adult Stantler buck could reach, and some of the trees had also been ringbarked. All the grass had become mud, churned up by hundreds of hoofprints.

She stared hopelessly at her companions. There was nothing to say.

"Come out of it Buttercup!" Bella snapped "If we don�t move fast they'll find good grass before us!"

Buttercup looked around hopelessly. "Its over, there isn�t any left here, why do we even bother?"

"Why do we even bother? Because its no use in just waiting for death to come!" Bella leaned closer to her and whispered "After all, there might be a chance of someone being free again"

Buttercup's hopes went high, she wished that was true, and they could someday achieve freedom once again....

"Stupid! you'll never catch me!" everyone set their attention on a buck, he was running towards the east in hope of escaping.

Buckthorne merely shook his head as the two does watched the scene... the rebel buck was easily intercepted and they took him down quite easily, Lucerne, attracted by the commotion arrived in the scene....

Lucerne stared at the escaping buck, his gaze held the stony silence of destiny. "You think you can escape, foolish one?" He asked, his voice like a funeral toll.

The buck was shaking now, Lucerne typically had that affect on people. Something in his eyes was dark and powerful. The buck found himself unable to speak.

"Do you know what the penalty for escaping is?" The answer was fairly obvious, given his speech two days earlier, but he did not give the attempted escapee time to actually answer. He lashed out with his hooves, sending the buck to the ground, then stabbed him with his horns.

Although the buck struggled, he was only small, his bulk nothing compared to that of his attacker. Looking up from the corpse, blood dripped down Lucerne's antlers and face.

"Let that be a lesson to all of you," he said.

*

Afternoon came all too soon and Lucerne was prepared to diminise the greyness cast by the runaway's death that morning by an even greater blackness.

He was preparing to bring out the Coup de grace.

"Gather about, my underlings," he called, and the weary and half starved young Stantler gathered around him, Buckthorne, Buttercup and Belladonna huddling together, seeking each other's warmth for their own internal strength. "For I have a treat for you!"

And, on cue, Rowan, Birch and Captain Nightshade forced the Houndour out into the now rather barren field at horn point.

"A real, genuine predator, who even managed to kill one of our own." His eyes lingered on Buttercup for a moment here, and she looked downwards in shame, and in guilt. She had been responsible. And she was responsible for its presence here.

The Houndour snarled and growled, lunging occasionally at its captors but always meeting an impenetrable barrier of horns.

"Now, we need a worthy opponent for our fiend. Someone strong, someone bold and someone who has trained well." His eyes fastened on Buttercup and she felt her knees knock together. She could not fight the predator... she couldn't! The mere site of it almost froze her in complete terror.

Then his eyes changed to the side of her. And he spoke five words, "you, the buck, come here." He was staring straight at Buckthorne...

The two stared at each other, predator and prey, eyes locked in a battle of wits. The Stantler could barely hold back his fear, he stood upright to stop his knees knocking, tall and stiff. The Houndour stared right back at him, there was fear in its eyes too.

Lucerne yawned. "Well, children, fight! Do not just stand there looking like frightened fawns!"

A growl formed in the canine's throat, the fur on its back bristling. It had been mistreated, its hide was bloodied and torn, grazed by the antlers of Nightshade, Rowan and Birch. And it was still sluggish from the rather large meal it had partook of the day before.

Buttercup pressed up close to Belladonna. "I'm worried, Bella," she whispered. "What if Buckthorne isn't strong enough?"

"Hush," Bella replied, although fear was in her voice too. "I am sure he will be. He has to be."

And then, perhaps annoyed by the lack of action, Lucerne slashed the Houndour across the flanks with his antlers. "Fight!" He snarled.

For a moment the Houndour locked eyes with him, and Buckthorne saw his chance. He lunged, grazing the dog's flank. The dog whirled, a gout of fire escaping from its mouth. Lowering his head, Buckthorne tried to block with his horns, but they were not overly well developed yet, and could not protect him nearly as effective.

The smell of singed hair filled the air.

Dancing backwards, the young Buck lashed out with his hooves, striking the dog across the shoulders. It rolled to the ground, but managed to regain its footing before Buckthorne could deal the final blow. And then, somehow, it managed to get under his chest...

A gout of fire flared upwards, seering through the tender flesh of the buck's chest, Buckthorne reared upwards, squealing in acute agony as his chest was slit by the flame, scorched through to the bone and delicate organs protected within. He lashed downwards, his hooves catching the Hondour a fatal blow and shattering its spine, before he toppled dead, falling on it.

The Houndour, still alive but fatally injured, tried to drag itself from under the Stantler, but its back legs were useless and as it dragged itself forward, Lucerne brought his hooves down on its throat, sending slivers of bone into its windpipe. With a final gasping whimper, it too perished.

"Right," Lucerne said, cleaning the dog's brains from his hooves on the grass, "can anyone tell me what young Buckthorne did wrong?"

Buttercup, a cry rising in her throat, rushed forward, towards her fallen friend, but the scarred Foxglove stepped out in front of her, her antlers blocking the way, her eyes narrow and angry. The rage flared in the young doe's breast, and her heart hammered against her ribs like a bird trapped behind glass, frantic to be free. Slowly, however, the stronger doe forced her backwards, so that she stood beside Belladonna.

"He was my friend," she whispered, "my friend..." And when she looked up, she noticed that Lucerne was staring at her, satisfaction clear in his eyes.

Hours passed, the sun sinking below the horizon. The events proceeding Buckthorne's death were a blur in the mind of the young Stantler doe. She remembered practising to fight, practising to fight against an attacker with the advantage of fire, but she could not remember what she had learned. Buckthorne was dead.

Lucerne stood before them all, that evening, slightly earlier then usual, before the last rays had slipped into darkness. "Sleep well," he said, "for tomorrow we move onwards and forwards and I want you all well and prepared to fight."

Buttercup leaned against her friend, Bella. She would not sleep? How could she sleep?

Buckthorne was dead... killed before her very eyes, by a predator she had known was around the herd. And she knew another thing too, Lucerne had not chosen Buckthorne as the fighter by mere chance, there was a purpose to it. She was terrified. He was after her...

"Bella," she whispered, "I want to get away from here now!"

"Hush," Bella replied, "such words could have you killed. You saw what they did to that buck this very morning. The Lord Lucerne is watching, if we hope to escape we have to make plans, and make them well..."

And so the two does stood side by side, too frightened to sleep and too frightened to stay awake. Morning seemed a long way away.