The night was fresh, and my cheeks were a mix of inner heat and outer cold. I kept walking, one angry step in front of another, stumbling over snow and branches. It only made me angrier and my steps firmer and more resolute. The weight of the rifle on my back pushed me forward, its clacking noise reminding me why I was here. I didn't want to be here. I'd rather be anywhere else. I love the forest. I enjoy the chill as any winter-born child does. But at this moment, I wish to wish it all away, myself included. And yet, I kept walking, by now deep into the forest, as deep as I've ever been, my mood dropping further with every step. After a while, I couldn't maintain the tempo anymore; my anger run out and could fuel me no longer. I sighed and looked around me. The forest was dense, and the full Moon bathed everything in its silver. Every tree, every lump of snow-covered soil, every shadow cast a shadow of its own, stretching over the freshly fallen snow like arms of death reaching out. I wish they were reaching out to me, but they didn't.

I sighed again, noticing it was the only sound I could hear now that I had stopped walking. Nothing moved but the mist of my breath. I took a deep breath in and held it in my lungs, craving more of that silence. Instead, my heartbeats pounded in my throat and in my ears. Slowly, I exhaled. The forest was magic to me; it always was. I've never felt such peace as I did by the river or deep in the forest, away from everyone else. My parents never understood it. Most of my village didn't even bother. For better, I think - it's not something one can explain to those who don't feel.

I noticed a small clearing on my left and walked over. It was the top of a high cliff, clear of trees, as if they stayed behind, fearing falling over into the abyss. At least it's how it appeared now, the moonlight not reaching its end. It's probably not all that deep, I thought, trying to remember if I've ever noticed it before. I must have walked past it a hundred times before but never bothered stepping on it. Now, under the full moon, covered in fresh white, it shone like a stage of silvery fire. I sat near the edge, dropping the rifle on the ground next to me. I took some dried fruit from my left pocket and a flask of my grandfather's whiskey from the right. It's always good to come prepared.

I smiled at my own thoughts and took a sip. It burned all the way to my stomach, and I felt warmer immediately. I knew it was only the alcohol, and soon it would have the opposite effect, but I enjoyed it while it lasted. I looked up. The moon took over the sky, but there were still plenty of stars visible, those willing to put up a fight and claim without fear what was theirs. I wish I was like that. Proud and strong. Maybe my father would feel some pride if his youngest showed some signs of pride and strength, two virtues he desired the most in his children. But he knew, as well as I did, that I just don't have it in me. Or don't really want to, anyway.

"Ah, well? at least he has my brothers," I said out loud and took another sip from the flask, and then another one before the first one reached my stomach. I smiled to no one and faced the moonlight again.

"You don't care for my problems, do you? You have your things to do, us humans have ours, I guess? but I'll tell you this?" - I took another sip of the whiskey - "?you are beautiful!"

"Yes, she sure is." - a sound of a deep voice shook me out of my slumber.

I jumped into the air, nearly fell over reaching for my rifle. I grabbed it and pointed it, raising my sight for the first time. A giant stag stood in front of me, its eyes bright from the moonlight, its antlers bright as if on fire of silver. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My hands gripped the rifle tighter, as if it was the only truth I could take right now.

"Don't come any closer" - I said, my voice shaky and unsure.

"I just came to admire the moon with you." - the stag said. "It is a special full moon tonight, you know?"

I looked at the stag, then at the whiskey dripping from my flash where it dropped on the ground, then back at the stag again.

"You are not drunk." - the stag said with a deep, reassuring voice. I, for obvious reasons, wasn't so sure.

"So, are you going to kill me?" - the stag asked, looking at the rifle. I lowered the rifle, then dropped it on the ground. The stag came closer. I could feel the warmth of his breath hitting my face.

"You can close your mouth now, you know?" - the stag said with? yes, definitely with a smile. I was sure now that I'm drunk to the bones. Or crazy in the same way. I reached out and touched its antlers. They were surprisingly soft. I exhaled and remembered to breathe in again.

"Who? what are you?" - I whispered.

"I'm everything. But I'm also nothing. I'm a creature of the forest, but not really."

"Well, thank you, that makes it clear, then." - I nodded, suddenly feeling dizzy.

I fell ass-first on the ground and turned towards the moon again. Maybe it was something in the moonlight that was affecting me. Maybe my mum's mushroom soup this afternoon.

"Do you mind?" - I heard the voice just behind my ear. I didn't turn.

"Do I mind what?"

"If I lay here next to you. As I said, I'd love to enjoy the moonlight, too." - the voice said.

"Sure, of course, it's not my forest." - I said back, sounding much more confident than I was.

"Maybe so, but you're the one with the rifle." - the stag said, already lying down. It? he was big, must be at least 7-8 years old, maybe more. Much more, I felt. It took him a moment to finally settle down in a comfortable position, with his nose parallel to mine, but once he did, he seemed to be smiling again. I looked at the moon reflecting in his eye, then dared to look at him. His head was twice the size of mine, at least. His antlers spread like angel feathers, reaching out to the skies, a glowing halo in the air around them, just like the one around the moon he was so mesmerized by. I didn't think I was drunk anymore, but I didn't care.

"The moon has special powers, you know?" - he finally spoke, his breath glowing like the moonlight.

"My grandmother used to say so, but I'm not sure I believe," - I replied.

"What is there to not believe or believe? You just stop and feel."

"Now?" - I asked.

"Now is all we have, my human. Try? close your eyes and feel."

I did as he said. I felt something on my skin, but that's just air, right? I felt the warmth of the stag's body next to me. I felt the cold warming up in my nostrils. I felt my lungs moving, expanding and contracting with each breath. I felt the moonlight on my eyelids, dancing in red and white. I exhaled and opened my eyes.

"I don't feel any special powers." - I said finally.

"Mmm? maybe you're focused on the external only. It happens." - the stag replied. I was sure there was a hint of playfulness in his voice, but his expression did not change, and he was still facing the moon.

"I know why you are here?" - he said, his eye reflecting my face now. In the cold air of January winter, I blushed and bit the inside of my mouth.

"I'm sorry." - I said, really meaning it.

"I know." - the stag whispered, one giant eye reflecting my face in the moonlight. "That's why we're here now."

"To stop me?"

"To help you with the choice." - he fired back, still looking straight at me.

I shivered under that gaze, felt its strength, observed its gentleness. He is ageless, I realized, maybe as old as this forest, or older even.

"My father wants this done, and done this night." - I whispered back, finally.

"I know what your father wants." - he said calmly.

"And?" - I asked.

He sighed. I could swear he sighed. I felt it on my body as his lungs rose and emptied. But his face remained the same, his eye locked onto me, his antlers bathing in the moonlight.

"He is not the one talking to me now, is he?" - he said. I understood. I nodded to myself and turned my face back towards the moon, away from that gentle eye and the beauty I couldn't accept right now.

"If I don't do it, he will disown me. I will have no one, be no one."

"You will still be you, maybe even more so." - he said, again with that smile in his voice - "If we were all nothing but our father's sons, we would only be spinning in circles forever."

I thought about it. Not just now, I mean, but before. How different I feel, how I wanted to belong, wanted them to know me and accept me, but also knew for sure it just can't be. There is too much void between our ways of seeing the world. Knowing it didn't really help me accept it.

"I'm their blood? I wouldn't exist without them." - I said, desperate for him to understand.

"True, you came to this world through them, and you do share a bond?" - he said, turning towards me. I felt his eyes on me but dared not face him, feeling where this is leading to.

"But is that bond a leash? Doesn't it go both ways?"

I didn't know what to say. Of course, he is right, we are not born to be servants to our fathers, but in the same time I can't deny the thirst I have for his love and approval.

"I'm sixteen tonight. This has been a tradition in our family for generations. All my brothers did it."

"I know, I watched them kill my children? and it's not just your family, it's the entire world of men. I have watched a lot of blood being spilled in the name of tradition." - he whispered, sadness mixed with anger.

"I'm sorry." - I said, my words as hollow as a hole in my chest. He said nothing in return, but his gaze returned back to the beautiful Moon, suspended in a broken mesh of the night sky. There was a single tiny cloud slightly over the horizon, illuminated by the same moonlight that created every shape our eyes could touch tonight. I wondered where it was going and where it will be tomorrow.

"Where do you want to be tomorrow?" - the stag asked. I held my breath in surprise.

"You can hear my thoughts?"

He didn't reply, but I thought I saw the corner of his mouth curl again. I shivered, suddenly cold. I reached to tighten my coat, but stopped half-way. I realized it was a deer fur that my father killed and skinned and my mother sawed for me. I took it for granted, but somehow, it felt wrong at this moment. I looked up to find the stag already looking at me.

"I'm sorry" - I said again, this time feeling it.

"Yes, I know." - the stag replied with a glimmer of sadness in his eyes - "You can take it off, if you want. I'll make sure you're warm."

I looked at him, unsure if he was being serious. I couldn't tell, but I proceeded to take the coat off and immediately felt better. The stag readjusted its position, laying flat to the ground.

"Lean back" - he said - "Rest and warm up."

I did. I've put my hands under my head and my head on his warm belly. His breath was slow and steady, and my body followed the movement of his stomach, relaxing immediately in the rhythm and warmth.

"What did your father tell you about tonight?" - he asked, the sound of his voice trailing off into the moonlight.

"He said I'm not to come back without killing a stag or a deer. He said it was my time to prove myself a man." - I answered honestly, shame escaping between my words.

"Did he send you to this part of the forest"

"No, I just kept on walking. I couldn't bring myself to even look for the trails." - I said, shrugging.

"Mmm? It's ok, just breathe, relax, you're safe now, no harm was done." - the stag whispered.

"But, the morning?"

"Don't worry about the morning? Just be here now, enjoy the warmth, feel the moonshine." - his voice grew deeper, his body gently expanding and contracting in slow pulses. I found myself relaxing, dissolving into the warmth of his body.

"Don't you worry about a thing? You will not need to kill tonight."

"What about my father, my family?" - I asked, suddenly sleepy and tired.

"No need to worry about them either, boy? You are where you belong now... and forever." - the voice swirled gently through the air, mixing with the moonlight. I yawned and sank deeper into the warmth.

***

"Father, Ivan, come here!" - a young man's voice bounced off the snow-covered trees. Two men, a father and a son, raised their heads. The snow creaks under their feet as they run, their breaths almost freezing in the cold morning air. They stopped as they reached a small clearing where the young man waited.

"Look at the trails, he was certainly here." - he said, pointing at the tracks in the snow. The three of them came closer, observing the ground.

"But where is he now?" - the other brother asked into the silence. - "I only see his tracks coming to the clearing; there are no trails leaving..."

"Maybe he fell over?" - the younger brother asks, leaning over the ravine.

"No, look at the steps, he didn't even come near the edge." - his brother replied, shrugging - "Father?"

Their father didn't reply. He observed the snow and the footsteps his youngest left coming in from the forest. They come to the center of the clearing and just stop. Not turning back, not moving forward.

The father looks at his boys, puts the rifle on his back and heads back into the forest.

"We're leaving. Now."