“He stopped and looked at me,” Bambi told his mother, as he watched the majestic Great Prince of the Forest, stoically moving toward the trees.
Yes, I know,” the beautiful doe, Fern, answered, as she watched her mate, Briscoe, disappear into the shadows of the forest.
“Why was everyone so still when he came into the meadow?” her young fawn asked curiously.
“Everyone respects him,” Fern replied, “For of all the deer in the forest, not one has lived half so long. He’s very brave and very wise. That’s why he’s known as the Great Prince of the Forest.”
Her mind traveled back in time, remembering when the Great Prince had first looked at her too.
It was one of those beautiful spring mornings in which the dew clings to everything and the sun’s rays cast a radiant golden glow on everything they touched. Most of the forest animals were awake, no matter what their habits were; the early risers busily called cheery greetings to anyone they saw, and the nocturnal creatures tried to get settled in their beds despite all the noise.
Fern stood alone, grazing peacefully on the clover growing near a softly babbling brook at the edge of the meadow, just beyond the safety of the trees. It was her first season to be interested in stags, and she stole fugitive glances toward the young ones who playfully sparred nearby.
She couldn’t tell whether she was hoping that one of them would stop and speak with her or if she was afraid that it might happen. All she knew was that watching their fine, muscular necks bowing up as they shoved each other around and their sun-dappled golden-brown coats sent shivers down her spine. Her heart wanted to burst into song as she watched their graceful legs leaping through the tall grass or heard their racks crashing together in play.
Suddenly, all the young stags ceased their play and stood perfectly still, alertly watching the forest on the other side of the meadow. A hush fell over the land and Fern couldn’t help but feel afraid.
She ceased her eating and alertly swept her gaze over the vast meadow, barely moving for fear of attracting the attention of some unseen foe. Then, to her overwhelming relief, she saw Briscoe, the Great Prince of the Forest, stately walking down the ranks of young stags, as if he were a king reviewing his troops.
He was a number of years older than she and already the Great Prince when she was born. As a young fawn, she’d learned to have great respect for him. He was her protector; her mother had said. He would keep her safe.
Now, Briscoe stopped, surveying the meadow and everyone in it. His eyes roamed over and around her several times as he searched for any possible dangers, but finally, he looked directly at her.
Instinctively, Fern eased backwards, toward the shelter of the forest. She wasn’t afraid of him, but his special attention made her as uncomfortable as it made her excited. He’d never paid the slightest attention to her before, so why now? Had she done something wrong?
A giggly magpie in the branches above her head made her ears burn with embarrassment. Imagine the gossip that she’d attract because the Great Prince had singled her out? He couldn’t possibly be interested in her, could he? Wasn’t it he who’d often been heard saying that his duty was to protect the forest creatures and that that came before any passionate desires he might have?
He kept coming toward her, and though he never ran, it seemed to her that his pace quickened the more she backed away.
Thus, she faced a dilemma.
It was clear that he wanted to speak with her and she knew that it would be rude to run from such an esteemed stag, but that giggly magpie chattered all the more as Briscoe approached. Fern felt as if she might melt into a puddle and become one with the brook if she stood beside it any longer.
If she’d looked past the Great Prince, she would have melted into the brook, for every stag’s eyes were fastened on her, the object of the Great Prince’s attention. Luckily, she couldn’t take her eyes off Briscoe. For the first time, it dawned on her just how beautiful he was.
Before, he’d only been her leader and protector. But now… he made her weak in the knees.
He stopped in front of her, and she involuntarily quivered as she looked into his soft-brown, mesmerizing eyes. His breath was warm on her face. She’d never really thought about how tall he was before now.
She lowered her eyes, waiting deferentially for him to speak first. The magpie seemed to have gone silent too, but Fern knew instinctively that it was still there, peering down at them with far too much interest. Her ears burned again, and she felt the urge to dart away.
As if he could read her mind, Briscoe shook his magnificent rack at the little intruder on their private affairs, and the bird flew off with a squawk. Briscoe’s laughter was low and soft as he watched this expected reaction to his strength and status. After a moment, Fern was able to join in with his mirth, relieved that the magpie was gone.
They laughed together for several seconds before Fern suddenly remembered who was standing in front of her. Her giggles silenced abruptly, and she lowered her eyes again.
Have I done something wrong, your majesty?” she asked demurely, wondering again why he’d single her out.
“Not at all,” he replied, looking perplexed for a moment, then slightly amused.
“Then why…?”
Her voice trailed off as his stature and gentle demeanor mesmerized her all over again.
“I’m getting old,” he responded softly, matter-of-factly.
“I always thought,” he continued, “that a great Prince’s duty was to only look after the forest and its creatures, but lately I’ve felt the burden of my age.”
“I won’t last forever, Fern,” he said, coming to his point, “and there must be someone to take my place when I’m gone.”
She blushed with pleasure when he spoke her name and felt a thrill race through her body when he told her his deepest thoughts. Still… why had he chosen to tell her all of these things?
“I don’t understand, your majesty.”
Again, he chuckled gently, and she felt as if she could walk in the air.
“Yes, you do,” he replied.
Then, making his intentions clear, he added, “I’ve been watching all my does for some time now, and you’re the one that I’ve fallen in love with. I want you to be the mother of the next Great Prince.”
The meadow seemed to go silent, and Fern felt dizzy in her happiness. The two deer stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity, then slowly she raised her head, and he lowered his. They closed their eyes when their noses met in the middle.
***
Shrill bird cries broke Fern’s reverie, the sound sending waves of alarm coursing through her body. They must flee at once!
“Bambi!” she called alertly, her eyes and ears swiveling in all directions, hoping to see or hear her little fawn.
She barely noticed Faline and Aunt Ena dash past her as her alarm grew to outright panic.
“Bambi!” she called again, terrified.
Then she saw Briscoe charging toward her, guarding their young son every step of the way. She turned and fled with them, back to the safety of the thick foliage.
Her sides heaved from their mad dash and the strain of realizing just how close she’d been to losing the two deer that she loved the most in this world. She couldn’t imagine the forest without either of them. Briscoe was standing beside her, calmly watching, but where was Bambi?
She made a quick scan of the bushes but saw nothing until her mate nodded toward the little fawn. Bambi was tucked safely into the thickest bushes and Fern smiled with relief.
Briscoe stepped forward and, once again, she raised her head as he lowered his, and their eyes closed when their noses met in the middle.
[Author’s Notes: I chose Fern for Bambi’s mother’s name because it reminds me of the forest, but it’s not too flowery. I think of Bambi’s mother as having a down-to-earth personality despite her status as mate to the Great Prince and mother to the future Great Prince. I chose Briscoe as the Great Prince’s name because it sounds a bit lordlier, but not incredibly highbrow. It is an English name that combines two words with Old Norse elements and means “birch wood”]