It started like any other afternoon. I was near the fence line, scattering hay under a quiet sky, when they appeared—two deer emerging soundlessly from the trees. There was something unusual about them. No fear, no startle, no rush to flee. Just calm, steady purpose.
The larger one stood still, watching. The smaller one tilted its head at me with a curious blink, as if it understood something I didn’t. I smiled and pulled out my phone, snapping a quick picture. “Got some visitors today,” I joked as I uploaded the photo.
But the moment I lowered the phone, something unexpected happened.
The smaller deer stepped forward, approaching the fence without hesitation. Then, to my astonishment, it dropped something on the ground before backing away. I crouched to investigate.
At first, I thought it was just a rock or a piece of cloth. But as I picked it up, I realized it was a folded fabric—clean, soft, and strangely pristine. Inside was a tiny wooden box, and nestled within it… a silver locket, old and weathered, etched with intricate symbols I didn’t recognize.
I looked up. The larger deer remained still. The smaller one was watching closely, as if waiting.
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