You’d seen him before—fleeting glances, mostly.

A tawny spot or two that you weren’t sure if it was real or just dappled light in the forest. Shed antlers just past your property line, too small to be any of the bucks you’d seen around.

You knew he was there, though. Always. He was watching you.

Not in a predatory way, no. More like he was studying you, or maybe—just maybe—gathering the courage to approach you.

It was cute, in a way, how he acted like you hadn’t spotted him, even though you not knew he was too bold to stay well hidden. It didn’t take very long for that boundary to be crossed.

It starts with him getting closer, close enough that you can make out his features—deep green eyes, a constellation of tan and white freckles on his shoulders, little tufts of fur on his arms that match the hue of his legs; the same legs that are furred, clearly not human, with dark hooves at the bottom.

He’s cute, you decide. His antlers, still with their velvet from having just grown in, are familiar—you’re sure he knows you’ve been saving them after he sheds them, keeping them like mementos in your home.

He’d made himself known, and you’d made it clear that he was welcome in your space.

He started coming around more often after that, leaving gifts of berries and wildflowers on your doorstep, things that you know take care to deliver.

In return, you welcome him into your home. His hooves are unsteady on the wood floor, more used to soft moss and raw branches than anything else; he has to duck so that his antlers don’t knock against the doorframe when he enters, but it’s become a quiet sort of arrangement.

Like tonight, he knows he’s always welcome, but he knocks as more of a courtesy than anything. He settles on the plush rug in front of the crackling fireplace, with you beside him.

The velvet on his antlers has begun to come off, peeling away in parts that look painful but that you know aren’t.

“Happens every season,” he tells you as you rub salve on the space between the velvet and the newly exposed bone.

“I’ll shed ‘em completely after the winter, and they’ll grow back in soon enough.”

You listen intently, tending to his antlers as he talks softly, gently explaining the nature of things.