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Weekly Contest #353
(Sensitive theme in story: blood, talk of death, bones, maggots, rot, war, and flesh.) As war raged on, blood spilling on pikes and rocks, birthing fluid coated the soft clovers that blanketed the forest floor. Mother, my mother, a deer, birthed me, I look at her into her big brown eyes. I believe I am the first of my kind to be sentient, I stand on unsteady hooves, while I listen to the human men bark orders nearby. Mother licks me clean of her fluids, and I lean into her tongue, while the antlered men of my kind flanked the sides of our ...
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