Monarch of the glen.

Steam rises from his nostrils in the chilled air. Hunters moon hangs high and bright. making the snow sided peaks glisten as if made of silver. He faintly catches her scent over the fragrance of pine. His pulse quickens.... He knows she is close. He can feel her.  Tossing his head. his massive antlers like a crown of war spears on his brow. Head held high... sniffing to cold air. He has ignored lesser females... She is special. The one... For unlike many of his kind he searches for one. A special one. Like him. different in an unexplainable way. more aware. soulful. He is the Monarch of the glen and there is but one queen. She drifts across his muzzle on the wind. Playfully... her soul is shy as her heart is strong. He has to find her...earn her.  South... she is to the south.  He knows where. There is a small valley. just below the frost. Full of yew and yarrow. late season berries. She is smart and well as crafty. Moving south along the ridge. her scent calling him stronger and stronger. desire is in his heart and joy.. He knows before he sees her. She is the one. Just feels it. Further south... the valley is just over the next ridge. Her scent is strong now. Slipping down behind low growing fir trees. he catches a flick of white through the branches.  Stone still he watches... There she is. graceful and grand. The Gods of the wood had led him without fail. He paws the ground . In a moment she sprints! Bounding high and fast. Half a heartbeat and he is behind her! coursing through the tall grass. The moon high watching them intently. All night time eyes are. This is a glorious moment. She bounds down hill toward the stream. Water bubbling over rocks seems to cheer them on. His heart is full! Joy, love, lust anticipation....  She leaps into the shallow water and runs up on he small island in the middle of the stream. One solemn oak dwells in its center. ancient and stubborn. He balks at the running water. A king of the high country never did trust water... His test.... Damn ! why water? Why not wolves or bears? Foes he had fought so many times.  The points of his antlers blood red from battle. No... It had to be water. She tosses her head at him. Daring him. ... In his ecstasy during the chase he did not take note of the path she took through the water.. The mountain forest silent... watching him. The old oak even taking a small interest. Her eyes burning through him.... She wants he to succeed but will not help him, she cant. Pawing at the waters edge. Looking frantically for the rock path through. The bright moon making the ripples flash like silver coins obscure his sight.  Closing his eyes.... trusting to the norns. His faith will lead him where his eyes cannot. A small step. The rushing water over his hooves makes him frightful. Steeling his will he takes another step. A hush as the world holds it breath. He winds his way agonizingly slow. feeling the path edge with his foot or by dragging his antlers to the side. Slowly he approaches the rock island. She happily flicks her tail at her courtiers progress. Distracting him breaks his concentration. He slips ! falling over into the stream. She rushes to the edge  but cannot see him for the thrashing. The watersilent. Her heart pounding. Seconds pass as years. Suddenly  the water erupts as his tremendous antlers breach the surface !  Scrabbling against the current! His eyes locked onto her. Every sinew in his body straining against the push on the river. He moves forward. Bit by bit... Slowly reaching the shore. nuzzling his muzzle. They revel in each other touch. The wind blows leaves around them in joyous applause. The royal wedding in the wild is over.  A new era dawns.  From this union honor and faith is reborn. The valley sighs relief. Even the water babbles in encouragement.  The royal couple slowly walk into the brush. And the winter moon weeps